(Content Warning: domestic violence)
Triggered.
Traumatised.
Taken back to the war zone
I grew up in.
Didn’t look like it from the outside.
I-
It’s a painful place to go back to.
Sad, alone, in pain.
Pain caused by people who were
my entire world,
who were the first to love me.
It’s a special kind of heart pain-
Remembering hurt caused by someone
you love,
have forgiven, and
choose to keep in your life.
Re-membering yourself
Feeling the betrayal,
crying the tears,
(they feel fresh each time)
Sitting still in one spot
on the floor, back against the wall,
hugging my knees-
The body remembers.
The body stores it all.
(Read next: A World Is Ending)
Triggered.
Scared.
Alone.
Remembering.
Re-membering.
Maybe I should talk to somebody
I do know how to self-soothe
These are my darkest parts,
my softest, most fragile places-
I’m now made to revisit.
I trust the universe;
The only way out is through.
War Zone:
Loud,
Violent,
Breaking glass,
Lies,
Gossip,
Abandonment,
Invisible pain
I’m confused-
I know you love me
You were my first best friend
You fought my enemies until you
had to be barred from entry,
We held fast together through
so many worsts,
and bests
Yet,
You raged so violently at me
Constantly
I remember it all
(as much as my mind & body will allow me to)
You were bigger, stronger,
meaner.
So fucking mean.
I can’t imagine what being you was like.
Probably worse.
I know you protected me from some worsts,
I know you had many worsts dished out on you,
exclusively.
I’m sorry for the things that happened to you.
I hate the war zone we grew up in.
Violent triggers take me back there.
I’m 10 years old,
crying alone in our bedroom in serious bodily pain
Or, I’m 10 years old,
you have me pinned to the wall by my throat.
Or I’m 10 years old,
you’re shouting at me then you slap me,
hard.
Or, I’m 10 years old
you kick me so hard in my stomach,
I cry until my nose bleeds.
And on, and on.
I know you love me
“she loved only her bike and her sister”
I love you too,
You’re so great.
You always looked out for me.
I modelled so much after you
(discovered my love for writing through you).
It’s a special kind of heart pain-
Everytime i’m made to
remember.
Triggered. Violently.
I prefer here,
In this place where I feel this heart pain.
It hurts so bad because I already
opened the closet,
took out my skeletons, and
looked at them in the light.
It hurts so bad because I can now trace
violent triggers back to the
original hurt.
This special kind of painful place
is better
than the place before-
where triggers sent me into endless
darkness & turmoil,
and I was too scared
(not equipped yet)
to open that last closet
at the back.
Endless darkness & turmoil, like
Too depressed to function,
Call the doctor,
Load up on psych meds,
Even go away for a while,
Cycle in, cycle out,
Cycle in, cycle out,
(this was a horrible existence,
I wanted to die so many times).
In this special kind of painful place,
My heart hurts.
My body hurts in remembrance.
I cry from the soul for 10-year-old me.
This special kind of heart pain,
Is my signal to stop,
drop, and acknowledge
my own pain first.
Feel all of it,
Feel it freely,
Feel it safely.
Be held (by me), for
as long as I need.
Be my own soul balm.
(We did it, we got out!)
(I have a home that is stable & free from chaos)
(No shouting, no breaking, no lies, no abandonment)
(My home is mine, is calm, is love, is fiercely guarded)
(I’ve got me)
Still,
I must love you.
I don’t know any other way to be.
I do love you;
(my true day one)
(my first best friend).
What is this world we live in,
Where love is so complex,
Especially in our foundational
relationships?
(but we must grow up,
and then “grow up” as in,
get over it.
Forgive & forget-
stop bringing up the past.
Because we share blood,
everything goes,
and we must endure it
then ‘grow up’
and ‘get over it’
what a scam!)
Even where we close those
doors forever,
The heart still hurts,
The re-membering is still
excruciating,
& lonely.
A special kind of heart pain,
Triggered,
Violently.
On the floor,
Against the wall,
Away from all the windows,
Cosmic Love by Florence,
on loop.
Cigarette.
Speaker.
Ash tray.
Half a doobie.
Knees hugged to my chest,
Sobbing,
Smoking,
Hugging myself closer,
and sobbing.
(each time the tears feel fresh).
