Life Beneath The Words At Play

Growing out of trauma

A part of healing my trauma was accepting it was traumatic. Another part of it was realizing it was abuse. I mean, it's still abuse. Realizing it is abuse.

Then, of course, I had to face what was right in front of me.

Me.

I had to learn how it affected me.
I had to unlearn what I did to cope.

I had to face my mental health problems and slowly unravel them with tears and an aching heart.

It was like I was reliving it all over again and painfully slow.

I could have given up, but I've always known I am meant for greatness.

I'm not meant to be in pain. I deserve good. I deserve food, new clothes, loving healthy relationships, friends, and comfort. I deserve to live a good life.

I also needed to learn from my past as painful as it is. As hurt as I always will be. It is still traumatizing me to this day, but now I know how to cope healthily.

I know I shouldn't shut the world out and cry silently alone in bed, hiding sniffles and bloody pillowcases under the duvet.

I know it's not shameful to talk.

It's okay.
It's not my fault.
It is never our fault.

Even if things could have changed, I wouldn't regret anything.

I would never want to go back, but I don't want to take the experience away because without it, I wouldn't be here.

I wouldn't be the person I've matured and grown to become without it.

I wouldn't have been able to achieve my own greatness.

I find so many ways to project my story and what I've learned and been through through art, poetry, life lessons, metaphors, and stories.

I always tell my story. I speak up.

I talk about my mental health now.

I ask for help when I feel I need it, even when I feel like biting my tongue and returning to my bed to cry silently.

It's uncomfortable, even painful, to transition to a healthy place after being used to living in hell with the devils and demons laughing in the background.

I just wish she could do the same.

-

I love you.

I'll see you again, someday.

I'll tell you my story when you'll sit down to listen even if you were right there with me as it all happened.

I'll always be proud of you even if I don't talk to you.

I love you, always.

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I mean it all.

A bit personal... maybe more than a bit, but I had to get it off my chest. I also feel like others can relate to how weird it is to heal from trauma. I didn't even accept it was traumatic at first. I just tried to push it down and lock up my feelings so I wouldn't drown in my own sea of tears. I hope this poem finds the right person. They'll never read this. I'm well aware of that. But maybe the right person is the people who can relate and understand or need to hear this.

I love you.