As a child, there wasn't a compelling reason for me to stay present, in my body, in the now.
I was miserable with being raped, tortured, sold, shared. My home life, outside of the sexual abuses consisted of hunger both physical and emotional, neglect, ridicule and lack of love. I couldnt find the pros of having a body at all, much less staying in it for hours at a time.
Happiness was a brief cloudburst, like when we would play on the swings at the playground far from home and untouchable. I always knew that positive feelings were fleeting little wisps. It would hurt to leave happy to go home. It was better to avoid the positive emotions all together as it would hurt worse returning to my reality of pain.
It hurt worse to visit and know the peace of paradise and then leave, than to deny all happiness exists. I stayed away from any feel good emotions as I saw them for what they were, freaky little cruel bits of cake in a world of moldy bread crusts.
I walked out, as much as possible, those erratic small feel goods.
I'd rather pretend that they didnt exist at all. It's like, you never miss candy if you've never tasted sugar kindof mentality.
So, somewhere locked away inside, I think, is my ability to feel happy and the thick wall that encloses it.
It's strange being me. Trust me
I was miserable with being raped, tortured, sold, shared. My home life, outside of the sexual abuses consisted of hunger both physical and emotional, neglect, ridicule and lack of love. I couldnt find the pros of having a body at all, much less staying in it for hours at a time.
Happiness was a brief cloudburst, like when we would play on the swings at the playground far from home and untouchable. I always knew that positive feelings were fleeting little wisps. It would hurt to leave happy to go home. It was better to avoid the positive emotions all together as it would hurt worse returning to my reality of pain.
It hurt worse to visit and know the peace of paradise and then leave, than to deny all happiness exists. I stayed away from any feel good emotions as I saw them for what they were, freaky little cruel bits of cake in a world of moldy bread crusts.
I walked out, as much as possible, those erratic small feel goods.
I'd rather pretend that they didnt exist at all. It's like, you never miss candy if you've never tasted sugar kindof mentality.
So, somewhere locked away inside, I think, is my ability to feel happy and the thick wall that encloses it.
It's strange being me. Trust me
