All of a sudden the water creeps up on you out of nowhere and your stuck in a place you shouldn’t have been. I really don’t understand it. No matter how much I feel like I have gotten better. Stronger. Overcoming my past. It is always the yelling that bring me back. Traps me. Makes me feel like I’m drowning and I can’t breath and I’m almost too scared to try because what if I actually can’t? That will cause a whole new panic. Sometimes it just a small wave that comes. When the yelling isn’t directed at me I can take a little bit. And when I say a little bit I mean like one small sentence. Then the waves get bigger and bigger and suddenly the water is up to your neck. Anything more than that and the more I hear the more set back I become. I try so damn hard to fight it. SO fucking hard. I don’t know why I can’t be fixed. The therapy. The medication. Buying something new. Sleeping pills. Alcohol. Sleeping with someone who gave me attention for two seconds. Weed. I figured eventually something HAS to work. Nothing has worked so far. I really want to hope that one day I’ll be “fixed”. After I’m done drowning suddenly the water will disappear but every time someone yells I can’t help but sit and relive all the things I try so fucking hard to forget.
I hate this feeling. I really fucking hate it! It’s nothing I can control as much as I REALLY wish I could. Nothing is right. Nothing is how it should be. I’m so uncomfortable but that doesn’t even describe it. Why aren’t things how they are suppose to be? This isn’t right. This isn’t what I know. I complain, yes. But no. I don’t fucking like this one bit. This isn’t right. It’s not how things are suppose to be. Why can’t I sleep. Why can’t I feel normal. When is this going to be over. WHY. nothing is right at all. I can’t help it. Why won’t my legs stop moving. Everything is too uncomfortable. I hate it so much. To the point I really hope no one else understands. I don’t know how this became one of my comforts because it is so damn uncomfortable. But I can’t stop. My legs got tired so I hope it stops no one will understand the redmarks and I’m sure it’ll turn into some stupid joke. But it’s real for me. And the people that get it. It is so real for us. I’m glad the panic makes me tired for now, but when tomorrow comes I know it will be the same thing over agin. Even with the medicine, why won’t it stop?
It was the middle of the night. I woke up to a dog barking but not a normal bark. It was a bark that sounded like it was in fear or trying to defend itself. I heard it like it was right on the other side of the wall but it just didn’t make sense. Maybe it was just a dream. I was too scared to look out the window. I closed my eyes. I think. Did I even open them? Nothing is making sense but it’s happening so fast. I was lying on my side with my back towards my door. I was struck with terror when I felt pressure on my side as if I was covered in a 100 pound blanket. I couldn’t breath. I couldn’t move. I could feel breathing on my ear and a man say “don’t move”. I was terrified. All my doors are locked how is this happening? I think that’s when my eyes really opened. I knew it couldn’t be true and it took everything in me to turn onto my back and when I did there was nothing. Why do nightmares have to feel so real?
Here I am again looking out the window in which displayed fog. The fog is gone well for now at least. The sun is shining but there are still no leaves on that tree.
I stood with you. Not everything was going according to my “plan” but we were still on the right track. I was doing my best to shove down any and all feeling of what I knew would have to come. It was your day though, not mine and I would never want to ruin it. All the people rushing by. The kids loudly shouting. I was so damn hungry. Waiting. I had to wait. But they’re not answering and games are always played so I -not for once, or at that not for last- went and got food. It might seem ridiculous but the anxiety was something not everyone can know. Anyways fast forward. We were standing there, in what felt like the middle of the room, but actually wasn’t. I thought I was okay. I thought I was in control I can manage this. But then it all fell apart. Suddenly we were in the middle of the room. It’s like that time I was in a glass box. Did anyone see? This time I didn’t yell but after that why didn’t anyone ask if things were okay? How did no one see that? You put your hand on my throat and squeezed. And I so badly wish it was any other person in the world. I know you didn’t really mean it but you did it. There was a look in your eyes. And then you laid on the floor as if it happened to you and I knelt down to comfort you. I hope you don’t remember because I wish there was an answer to how I could erase it.
A train keeps going around in circles but faster than I could ever keep up with. Then another and another and another. They’re all going in circles back and forth running straight through each other without even crashing. Why can’t I keep up? What is going on? There goes my heart rate because I can’t completely process or even think through anything. The uncomfortable feeling through my body that I wish I knew how to fix but the only thing I can do is forcefully rub my feet together to try and be in control of something. Why do my thoughts have to be trains? Especially when I’m trying to sleep.
Everyone has seen a different version of me and I really wish it wasn’t that way. The quiet girl who doesn’t say anything and just sits there observing. The girl who can be loud and annoying but doesn’t care about it. And all different versions in between. No one knows exactly who I am and really neither do I but I’ll get there some day and I hope you get to meet that girl too. There’s this problem that I have. Because there is this little other version of me that I carry that no one as seen except for a few. I really wish I could block it out but every time I get yelled at every single thing resurfaces. And if you don’t know what I mean by that I mean my childhood along with my parents divorce. I could do on forever about it so I’ll try to cut to the point. But there is a version of me where I’m in a box and I can see and hear everything outside but no one outside can see or hear me, nor do they wonder where I am. I was 9. One of the bedroom doors got kicked in because one parent locked the other one out. The screaming and yelling. This is one of those storms I was talking about. Then came the food throwing. I went to my corner in fetal position for my comfort and I watched and then all of a sudden it came to my Pringle’s. No. Not my Pringle’s they are my favorite. It seems so silly now to be upset over chips. But I was in the corner crying and now yelling. Begging “no!” But I was ignored. Did they even hear me? I must have been in a glass box. I was 15. I didn’t understand why you stayed in the truck after you brought home food. But I didn’t think anything of it. Everyone needs space. But it turned into the cops being called. There goes that yelling again. I found my corner behind my door this time and grabbed my childhood teddy bear for comfort and tried to curl up into the smallest ball possible. There was no comfort. The cops had showed up and the anger and yelling got worst. I cried. I screamed like I have never screamed before. I put shame to babies who are tired for hungry. I tried the block out the noise around me but it was still there. There was more violence from the cops that night than from my parents to. And I was still unnoticed. I must have been in a glass box. I still don’t understand why you did that. * To be continued another time