It’s a war, this. My whole life. One great big messed up war. There’s lots of battles, and I mean *lots*. Some are battles between myself and abusers, others are battles between conflicting parts of my head, some are battles to find the strength to keep going after a particularly nasty fall.
I’m at the point where I’m like… “why bother? Really? I get so far but I’ll crash out in a few months. Either someone will hurt me or my own head will attack me or something, but it will hurt a lot and take all of my energy and more to actually pick myself up and try again.”
There’s only so many battles a girl can handle. 20 years is a long time. It never really felt long before but now it does. I feel weary, defeated. I feel like I’m dragging my feet along, and my hands, because I’m crawling. And then collapsing and trying to find some inner strength to keep breathing, drag myself back up and crawl forwards another inch before collapsing again.
When I collapse I’m lying on my front, my eyes closed, and my body shaking with exhaustion and defeat. My breath is laboured. It’s a task. It’s no longer natural to me. It would be so easy to just….stop. So tempting. Just let myself lie still and calmness gently hug me. Calmness gently hold and soothe my wrecked and broken body and mind. Calmness stroke the tears off of my strained face and let me sleep, finally. Let it stop. Let everything stop please. Or give me a reason to keep trying, and some energy to do so.
Because I can’t find that reason. I love my friends but my family hurt me. I hurt my friends because I’m a wreck. My babies are in the sky and no baby should be without their mother. No baby. Isn’t that classed as neglect in some form? My reasons are up there…my heart is up there..and I am down here in a desperate hell, beaten and exhausted, frightened and heartbroken, wanting the hurt to just…stop. For my lungs to have half a chance, for my mind to be calmed and my fragile body tended to; my wounds cleaned and dressed… for my eyes to close and for me to sleep calmly, for a long long time.
Maybe forever. To sleep forever and dream of my babies…
Or better still, to be left like this until breathing grows too laborous, and my body gives in. Then I really will sleep forever, and I’ll be with my sweet babies…
Until then I must keep crawling. Somehow. Even though there is no reason. I can’t find a solid enough reason to keep fighting that feels powerful enough to overcome all of this pain and exhaustion. I just can’t. Does that make me selfish?
I’m so exhausted I can’t even give up and do anything to make the pain stop. That would involve planning and thought. There’d be notes to write and stuff to do. And it would cause me further pain; sad for what my friends might think, physical pain by whatever means I escaped, sad for what could have been, ashamed that I was defeated ultimately by…myself. No, this isn’t an option for me. I’ll keep crawling, and search for the reason to keep fighting…and keep collapsing in the dust and breathing heavily whilst I regain some strength. I’ll ignore my shaking body and keep going…because what other choice do I have, really? To stay still just prolongues this present pain, I can’t go backwards, I can’t escape. If I go forwards maybe my heart will just keep breaking but maybe then it’ll be enough. Maybe my body will then finally say…enough.
And I will rejoin my heart up there…
Until then….I will crawl until I either find a reason, or I’m too exhausted to continue crawling..and then I will just hope someone will find me in the dust, and either soothe me or free me.
If I were a dog they’d have put me down by now. A car, I would have been crushed in some tip. A house, I would have been demolished.
But I am human, and for some reason this means I must be more immortal. One hand in front of the other, grit my teeth through the pain and let the tears flow because they heal me. Inch my way through this dusty wilderness and just like those lost in the desert, I hope something beautiful will reach me soon…
Jesus I’m so exhausted…I’m just exhausted. I’m tired of being in pain constantly. And I hate that there’s no way out of this other than to keep going. I hate that.
Tonight I’ll lay in the dust and close my eyes and feel my heavy breathing. I’ll feel my muscles ache and my heart screaming in agony as two fists try to tear it apart with grief. I’ll let my hot tears roll off my tired face into the dust, to be lost forever. But they bring water to an otherwise dry land, and that must be good.
Tomorrow, I will open my eyes and crawl forwards some more, always looking for the reason to get back up and fight.