loneliness: VI

loneliness (noun) - sadness because one has no friends or company

I never got to be a kid. 

I never felt safe, or secure. I never felt joy. I never felt excited for anything. I never felt free. when the terrible reality of my situation of repeated abuse set in, the only things I truly felt were fear and sadness. 

I couldn’t relate to the other kids in my elementary school class. one time when we lining up to go to lunch in the 4th grade, the girl in front of me was talking about how she was so excited for the weekend because she was going to be spending it at her grandparent’s house. I remember thinking to myself, “I wonder what it’s like to be excited to spend the night at your grandparent’s house.” 

being repeatedly sexually abused and tortured and verbally berated for the entirety of my childhood left me completely empty and detached from the world. 

instead of worrying about what to bring for show and tell in kindergarten, I was worried about the wandering hands of my grandfather and how they hurt me. instead of worrying about learning how to tell time correctly in the 1st grade, I was worried about what my grandfather would do to me the next time he trapped me alone in a room with him. instead of worrying about losing my last baby tooth in the 2nd grade, I was worried about my grandfather sneaking into my room at night. instead of worrying about how to complete one pull-up for the PE fitness test in the 3rd grade, I was worried about whether my grandfather would bruise the skin on my legs again. instead of worrying about learning my multiplication tables in the 4th grade, I was worried about whether my grandfather would scream at me again or not if I cried when he put his hands on me. instead of worrying about getting braces in the 5th grade, I was worried about how the abuse I had to suffer through would probably last forever.

I wasn’t normal. I wasn’t a kid. I was so lonely.

completely isolated in an endless and miserable circle of abuse.

I still am sometimes. 

he’s gone now. the world has been free of his pathetic wretched existence since 2018.

he cannot hurt me anymore. there is no possible way he can ever physically hurt me again. I am finally safe from his hands. 

but despite this, I still feel so terrified, and disgusted, and ashamed of my childhood. it’s really scary writing all of my feelings like this out and sharing them. 

will people be disgusted with me? will they see me how I see myself? will they think I’m just too damaged? will they think I’m not worth all of the effort that this baggage may bring? will they blame me and think that the abuse was my fault? will they abandon me like how my mother and her family did? will they listen to me? will they think I’m just weak and whiny? will they care? 

am I worth it? am I worth anything at all?

he may be gone. the threat of any physical harm may be gone. but the psychological damage he did by ripping away my childhood, my innocence, my freedom, my happiness, my security, my trust, and my humanity continues to fester. 

I’m trying my best to make it through. to breathe each day. I really am. but it’s a lifelong process. and it’s hard, and scary, and lonely. 

the delicate glass full of carefully built up self confidence, happiness, and courage sometimes slips through my fingers and shatters at my feet with no rhyme or reason. 

I’m constantly caught up in this swelling storm.

it’s frustrating. it comes and goes in waves. but I need to be patient with myself.

  

because I survived. he cannot take that away from me. and I will forever continue to survive.