Trauma is Temporary

Reads: 126  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


Everyone has trauma, but it's up to us to leave it behind.

Submitted: August 24, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 24, 2018

A A A

A A A


Everyone has a story.

I've endured a lot of pain and heartache in my life as I'm sure everyone has. The beginning of my struggles really started when my father and mother left me at a very young age. To this day I tell myself it doesn't bother me, but who am I kidding? I'm a liar if I said it didn't. Which I'm also sure some of the people reading this can relate. I had the military family lifestyle for the most part. Mom navy and dad Marines. Long story shorrrrt, they chose the military over my brothers and I. (I'll skip the in between).

Anyways, I grew up with my grandparents. They gave us a great life. That is, until my dad one day decides he wants me back. I'm about 11 at this point in my life. Again, long story short he took my grandmother to court and got custody of me. Of course I was super ecstaticbecause it's my dad...and who doesn't want their parents? Boy was I mistaken...to feel the way I did living with my father, I would never wish it upon anyone. I don't speak much about what happened at that point in my life, but I feel people can relate. A lot of the emotional trauma I endured in those years still haunts me to this day in my adulthood. I will never forget the fear I developed for the man I once saw as my knight in shining armor. The man that I saw as respectable and strong. Little did I know, that man would change my life forever...

I specifically remember when things started changing. Slight mood changes, constant drinking, the blank stare at me while intoxicated, pacing the house back and forth. It didn't click what was wrong with him until the first time my dad hurt me. Mind you again, this is coming from a girl at the time who never thought her dad would harm her. He was supposed to be my protector right? I remember it clearly. Do you ever get that feeling that someone is staring at you? Then you look and nothing is there? I was sleeping and my father was standing over my bed staring me dead in the eyes...I remember those two words he said to me before he lost it.."get up" before I could even bat an eye, he yanked me from my bed and pulled me down the stairs by my hair. With very little time to react I allowed it as I didn't dare try and fight back. He sat me at the dinner table. As I whiped my eyes of tears and sleepiness I didn't understand what had happened. What had I done wrong? Why was I here? At that moment in time I had lost my father...I lost my father to whatever he was going through. Nothing a 13-14 year old girl could understand. To a little girl at that age, their father is "supposed" to be one of their biggest romodels. Someone they look up to. At this point, I completely lost most of my respect from my dad but in a sense I still wanted him close and I yearned for his approval. I tried to forget about that night but it was stuck in my head for good.

Let's fast forward to a few years later. Im older now, in high school. The abuse at home becomes worse with age. I never knew what I was going to expect coming home. Not only had my father made it to where he wasn't involved much with me anymore, but now my step mother had taken on the role of the aggressor. My father stayed in the background and didn't deal with me much unless things got so bad he had to intervene. In a way he still cared about me yet never did anything to stop my pain.

The endless nights of no sleep, or sleeping in the garage or on the cold floor in the kitchen with no blankets or pillows. Going without eating food that night or dog food was usually a great substitute for meals. I was under attack and I couldn't stop any of it. I wouldn't try to or else I'd know the consequences of those actions.

I turned to writing at times like these. When I would get in trouble, my room would be stripped of all of it's belongings including my mattress. All I had was my paper and pen. I wrote like there was no tomorrow. Poem after poem. Releasing my feelings on to paper was my way to cope. I didn't know who to turn to or talk to so my greatest friend has always been my notebook. You see, I struggle today with talking to others about things happening in my life. Nothing I said mattered and when I did speak up about how I felt or what was happening in my life, I was shut down or punished for it. I communicate best through my writing. I can say what's on my mind without someone stopping me. I can say how I feel because when you're alone and writing, you aren't lying about how you truly feel. In a way I feel it helps me but also is a crutch that I have to stop using. Relationships have never been my strong suit...I can't always blame my childhood for my almost total lack of communication skills...yet it played the biggest part in it. I know a lot of others on this site can relate with what I'm saying in one form or another. Some days I just want someone to tell me how to live so it would make this all so much easier instead of trying to find a way to deal with what I'm still to this day recovering from. I've gotten better through the years and still have recovery down the road. Never let someone new make you feel the way an abusive parent did. You deserve better than that. Someday you'll meet someone who wants to learn you and will empower you to do better. They will lift you up and never tear you down. They will make all those bad memories seem as though they never happened. It may take time but trust me you'll find them...I found mine.

 

My reasons for writing this aren’t for sympathy, but to share personal events in my life that I for so long kept to myself. I share it because I know others who’ve possibly went through what I have, don’t know how to express their feelings on it. I’m here to say from personal experience, that you can get through the bad memories and come out much stronger than you were ever told you were. The road isn’t easy but there are people out there that will listen and understand such as me. I write to take away the pain because I find serenity in my words I write. If you’re reading this, I hope you can find your serenity too.


© Copyright 2018 Mediocre-Dreamer. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

More Non-Fiction Short Stories