letters to T-not sent


I can hear the soft rumble of thunder in the distance and the pitter patter of rain outside of my window. A storm is brewing and it reflects back to me how I feel at this very place in time. Uneasy, uncertain, and full of pent up energy.

You feel far away from me, although my mind tells me it has only been a few days since we last met. We’ve been talking a lot about my family and my nightmares are playing out the past like an old 8mm movie reel turning in the distance. Sometimes, the memories don’t feel real while other times it’s like I am thrown back into that time of before when I was helpless, hopeless and alone. I don’t know what to do or how to change the way things feel yet I have an uncanny desire to figure out what exactly creates these things in my mind.

The things I could not speak of all those years ago still feel very difficult today. While I walk the walk and talk the talk, underneath it all I am afraid. Of being too much. Of not being enough. Of not being believed. Not belonging. Of being alone with all the madness that it brings. There are parts of me that wonder if a time will ever come where I will be at peace with all of these things. You tell me it will get easier–it has for you, you say–but it’s hard to look into the distance and see the change happening. Lately, it feels like all we do is talk and cry, talk and cry. There are so many tears that we wonder if we will ever have enough. One day the wells of our tears must dry up. But what happens then? Do we feel nothing again, or is that when the rage comes?

I want to speak, but my lips feel sewn together like the tight stiches of a handmade quilt. How do you speak if no one’s listening, if your voice is banned, or no one understands your words? The silence rages against me. I feel sad like there is a force pushing down on me. The days of drowning are here again. A cold, suffocating place only I can feel. In these moments is takes all the strength I have to make good choices. I can’t go forward, I can’t go back. A great sense of weariness sweeps over me and I question my very existence. Why are we here again and what does it mean?

I feel lost and confused. I’m going through the motions of living but I don’t really feel alive. I think there has always been a part of me that has wanted to self destruct. Something very dark lurks in the corner of my mind and I find it hard to see the way out of things when I’m stuck in the middle of it.

I think about my father a lot. I don’t miss him but he is on my mind more than I care to admit. He drifts around my head like thick smoke from a campfire, prying in on my world. He mostly seems agitated and anxious. I keep going through my mind looking for pleasant memories. Things that I can anchor onto. But he just wasn’t someone who could bring those things to me. I always thought that he didn’t like me, but really, I think it was more that he didn’t like himself. We couldn’t even look each other in the eye, unless he was mad, then it was a long and steady glare. He always seemed mad and I never knew why.

Something inside feels broken. Something inside is missing. Everyone has a shadow. Mine is one of childhood sexual abuse. The only way to get rid of it is to turn to the darkness, and face what I fear. But I can’t because I am afraid of the dark.

6 thoughts on “letters to T-not sent

    • yes, it’s such a new thing–being heard and understood–and I’m so glad I have T on my side. I’m not quite sure where I’d be without him. Your T sounds very similar, so I’m so happy you have him. Stay well, xx

      Liked by 1 person

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