Yesterday marked a year since I was sexually assaulted. Today is the aftermath of what happened a year ago. Going to the ER, calling to report the crime, the shame, the labels, people not believing my story. I feel like I am standing on the top of this hill and its cloudy. I can see the dark clouds rolling and I know its happening. The blades of grass is blowing in the wind around me, the sky is turning darker and darker. I can feel it becoming colder and the rain starts. When it rains it pours. The intrusive thoughts, the little will I have left to keep myself upright, the wind makes one big push and I fall. I fall hard. The wind is keeping me pushed down as I lay flat on my back and watch the storm go by, its cold, dark and rainy. People close to me are pushed out and a large glass cup is placed over me. They can’t see I am struggling and if they do they can’t get in. How long is the storm going to stay this time? I am not sure. The sad thoughts are like my safety blanket. Whenever things feel okay the thoughts come over and hug me tight. I am constantly depressed. When I laugh or smile, it’s like putting a band aid over a small cut. It feels better and it can start healing, but when I feel sad its like the band aids rip off and I am faced with the hurt all over again. The mask I put on, the adhesive falls right off when it no longer needs to be on. I am falling apart yet I am hanging on by a thread. I some people have told me that after my father died he gave me the strength that I carry everyday, I do not think that is the case and I hate that people tell me that. My therapist told me that last week, I didn’t want to tell her I did not need her to tell me that, I just sit in anger. I carry myself for whatever reason because there are some people who give a damn or who would be heart broken if I gave up. I am a push over, some would say. I think that because they care I am here for them. I hate that people say that you need too be here for yourself and no one else. I have been my own damn best friend for years. I do NOT need to be here for myself, I can be here for whatever damn reason I am here for. I hurt, and I hurt and I break and I wear down and I hate myself and I hate who I am because I think I am weak. I want to self harm. I think it has been 6 months since I last did. but I am sure I’ll break soon.
I have to put my mask on and go to work.
Until next time.