Today was Hard

Today I could not write. I love to write fiction and poetry and have since I was in middle school. I am very passionate about writing and using my imagination. Because of all the pain I have gone through, and the trauma, and the fact that it did not get better, but much much worse over and over and over I found that today my mind was just frazzled, two steps from shattering. I have gone through too much. Today I am sad about it. At the moment, all my dreams, that I held precious to my heart, feel like they are destroyed. Because of my trauma’s I have an ongoing sense of fragility and the feeling of being destroyed. I used to want a husband, and I am naturally a romantic soul, so I’m sure a part of me will always want my “soul mate” but ultimately I am so damaged I think my ability to trust is severely damaged along with every other part of me. But, even writing about love…shesh…I think that romantic part of me may be the only part that never dies. No, I take that back, if I’ve learned nothing else through this whole season is that FOR ME there is nothing I have that is safe to not be destroyed by the world.

I am aware of how damaged I am.

I feel like the idea of rescue is so beautiful. I’ve dreamed those dreams, that my soul mate would rescue me, meet me at my most vulnerable, protect me when I am nothing but an open wound. I have even tried to let myself see God as my protector but I have been unprotected in ridiculous ways from my teenage years onward. Like I’ve said in another post, It’s wild that I have even a working brain left and because I expect nothing anymore from life, I would not be surprised if that goes too. I have been unprotected, period. It is not negotiable. 

Yes, tonight I am ranting, but,  this is tame from everything I could say.

I wonder if I will be able to have a good job again. I know I do not function, physically, mentally or emotionally the way I used to because of the trauma resulting in a good amount of ruin in my being and hopefully not death- but well see.

I wonder if I will ever be able to be a wife or mother. I in many ways doubt it. I don’t have much to give at this point, except for a wounded body, wounded mind, wounded emotions, wounded soul, and a good “grade A” knowledge of suffering. 

I feel like my femininity and natural sensitivity was disregarded by life. I have the strength of a soldier and the battle scars to prove it from fighting against my physical, psychological and emotional demise. But I also have the fragility of a deer, or better yet, a butterfly.

I wonder if I will ever be able to have my own apartment again, a stable income, physical ability, restoration of the damage to my brain, heart, nerves, organs, senses, memory, thinking.

Well see,

Like I said. In this life, now, I expect nothing.



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