I was abused. Why does this still shock me?

How do I feel right now? In shock. Not so bad as I was earlier, and certainly not finding myself in the hysterical heap I have been in throughout the day. That stage has past, but I’m feeling in shock…about my past. About the fact I was abused, as though it’s only just hit me somehow.

I properly let myself feel earlier. I normally am a bit of an emotional robot; my emotions the most shut off part of me because frankly I know it’s going to hurt, and they’ve been carefully locked away for years. But today one of the bottles exploded, and so I had to “feel.” It felt horrendous, frankly the worst kind of emotional pain endurable. But in the long run it’s good as it’s one step nearer recovery, and afterwards…well…I felt more human. Like I was responding more like a normal person would to my past.

I curled up on the floor, clutching my teddy, and scream-sobbed until my throat was raw and my eyes so puffy that I’d simply ran out of tears. Then I just lay, with my eyes closed, and sobbed tear and sound free. My body shaking violently, and dry sobbed.

Forgive me, it all sounds a bit dramatic and desperate. It’s not. I couldn’t allow emotions to leak as a child; they were simply a weapon for the abusers. I’m kinda glad I’m in a place now where it’s safe enough for me to feel the shock, despair, horror and complete sadness that I had to bottle whilst inside the ring. It means I’m getting there…getting nearer normality.

But my God did it hurt. Like, in every sense. My body throbbed, my head pounded. My heart ached. My stomach felt like someone was twisting it violently. My throat felt raw. The emotions felt like acid being poured on raw skin. It was insanely painful, and it’s no wonder I needed to bottle them all as a child. More than once today I thought “oh my god how am I going to survive this pain? I can’t…I can’t…I need this to end. I need this to end and it won’t. I need to die. I can’t do this.”

Luckily was able to soothe myself and calm myself down and convince myself the pain would stop soon, and that the pain was in a weird way, good. As a child I’m not sure this would have been possible.

But as ever, I feel more in shock about my past after a day like this. I’ve got into the habit of going “I was abused” without any feeling. Now I’m like, MY GOD I WAS ABUSED. I was a victim of ritualistic abuse, and then abused by my partner. How on earth did I make it? Will this new pain destroy me? Can I cope? How will I cope? Hang on…I was abused!! I was very seriously abused. I’ll never have what normal people have. Oh my god they abused me. shock shock shock. Sob sob sob sob sob.

Cathartic meltdown. Useful in the long run… the worst kind of pain in the short term. It feels like the equivalent of being set on fire. Desperately terrifying, excruciating, and out of control.

This fire is different though. The only way to the right side is to grit my teeth and somehow get through the days where the fire swallows me. Somehow…I must do this.

Shock. That’s all I can say.


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