My Poison

I have spent countless hours searching for the words to say to you, to truly express myself; overwhelming layers of emotion threaten to consume each sentence.

Sadness, Anger, Hopelessness, Confusion, Loneliness.
Emptiness.
Longing.
Each interwoven with one another;
A complicated nest of despair.  
You cannot pull one twig
Without tugging the position of another.

The tears and the sorrow and the pain.
The guilt the anger and the shame.
Some of the words
“Not enough”
“Never enough”
“Ugly”
“Worthless”
I can still feel them,
You know.
Still feel where they were etched
Over and over and over and over
Into my everything.

It’s so raw-
The scars are still so real
….More real than the words I write today.
I wonder, are they even scars at all?

I can still smell the shame,
I can still taste the tears.
I can still feel the noose
     -That specific and indescribable claustrophobia
     -MY ENTIRE EXISTENCE
Oh, How I longed to wake up in the morning
And be someone else- anyone else.
Sometimes, to not wake up at all.
I still
I still feel afraid
That I will wake-
And it is yesterday again.
The dream was today.
And the nightmare is reality.
I can still feel my sorrowful plea
To God.
Please let there be an escape.
Please. Please.
Help me.

It’s like no time has passed.
Little me is still there,
I can still see her.
I’ll always see her, if I want to.
Sometimes when I don’t want to.
I’ve just learned how to pull down the drapes.  
But she’s still there.
Her trauma is on repeat for infinity
My macabre and permanent passenger.
I ache for her.

I am so angry;
So, heartbroken.
Where were you when I needed you?
If not later in the journey of sickness,
Then in the before.
Before the contamination of my soul,
Before the hurt became second nature,
Before my very skin and words and thoughts became tainted.
Where were you?

I cried for,
I longed for you.
I needed you.
My only companions?
Tears, broken memories, and my own echoes.
You weren’t there.

I recognize that abuse is so multifaceted, and I empathize with you. You were a victim, too. When I cry, I cry for you and for me. I struggle because I know that you love me, but I don’t understand your love. You were as much a poison to me as He was. Often times, more so. I needed a refuge from the chaos and anger, and instead of seeking refuge in you, all that were left were the daggers and thorns. I had no blood left to bleed.

I just don’t understand, mom. There are no words to adequately express the grief in my heart, and the confusion that I still feel.

There is no doubt that He caused so much damage.
His disease is chronic, progressive, and without a cure- it consumes his light, and chokes his soul. His poison was without a target, although highly infective and potent. He left enough hurt in my heart for me to die the same death every day, until time stops. This I promise you.

But mom. As much as He Hurt.
You.
Hurt.
Worse.

I understand what poisons Him. The poison that He fed me is the same that He was fed, moreover again and again. But the victims were faceless. It wasn’t specifically curated for me

But.
Your poison was for me.
Where did your poison for me come from?
Why did you make it for me?
I don’t understand.
Do you?

How I long for the memories
That never were.
For an existence
I created from magazine covers
And Hallmark cards.
From sleepovers.

How I longed for the end of your love with Him-
Because it gave me a brief glimpse of peace.
Of the “what could have been”.
Your tears hurt me, and I felt so guilty for your pain.
For hoping for your pain.
What is wrong with me? To hope for your suffering?
But.
Truly, it was the only time I have ever felt needed by you.
Wanted by you.

I could feel your love sneaking back in.
It felt like a bathwater that was left out too long
Only to have someone heat it back up.
It was warm and even. A little stale.
But it was for me.
Your love was for me.
And I only wish I could have felt the water warm all the way up.
Before the tub was drained.
Just when I thought the poison had been cried away
Down through the drains
Back it came.

I miss you so much.
And I don’t even know you.
It really hurts me.
I keep saying that- hurt.
But it’s not an accurate descriptor of the pain I feel.
The void that’s still there.
I want to know you.
I know you want to know me, too.

But I can’t forget.
I try
SO HARD
I think that I must be crazy.
It’s the only explanation for holding on so long.
But the blackness won’t be forgotten so easily.
It won’t be ignored.
It requires it’s pound of flesh.

I am asking for patience
For grace
Humility
Love
Compassion
Forgiveness
Empathy
Validation
From you.
And from me.

I don’t know what the void requires.
I don’t know how much will be enough.
But I hope to find it.
To pay the blood price.
Will you help me?