Furiously Bri

Something I’ve been wanting to talk about a little deeper lately is trauma and how it really holds onto you in different ways. I have memories that haunt me. I have conversations that play in my head over and over again that remind me how little someone truly cared about me as a human being. I remember every single time I was disregarded, stigmatized, and berated. And something I can’t help but shake each time is the pain I feel. The anger. Not at them, but at myself. I realize after the waves of triggers are over, I realize I’m angry because I keep blaming myself for how I was treated when it was never deserved.

As an early aged adult, I was extremely defensive and timid. I tiptoed everywhere, thinking to be seen and not heard. I can still subconsciously recognize footsteps, even in my job. I still apologize when I spill something. I apologize when I flinch. I can’t be physically angry. I do not show people my anger, even when I should. It’s bottled up because I have seen what it can do. I now have to find ways of expressing myself in a healthy manner because it’s new to me. My therapist has suggested music. I took that to a level further than listening to metal. I want to learn to play drums, and I’m writing poetry again.

I have OCD which apparently can stem from traumatic events, and I’ve experienced many. I am afraid 24/7 of various things. It’s a battle I’m still learning to fight and the stress is still a lot sometimes, but I’m glad to be able to have a few tools to cope with it now. I think this fear of being watched that I have is something that stems from trauma as well and I worry that someone will see my poetry that I am soon to be sharing will feel attacked and try to make me feel bad for doing what I need to do for myself, which is share my truth. I have spent far too long sparing feelings because I knew I would be made out to be some sort of villain for sharing hard truths. No more.

If my poetry makes you feel uncomfortable or called out, read it anyway. Feel what I feel. I will never name names, but you will always know who you are. Because one apology and no changed behavior is never going to be enough for me anymore. And I know there are many others out there that will see my words who do not know me at all that will either identify with how I feel or have felt, and some will also feel attacked because they have treated someone to make them feel how I feel or have felt, themselves. I was taught to not be vulnerable and to never cry. But how do people know that they’re in pain if they’re never allowed to feel it? I won’t hide myself anymore. I hope whoever reads my blog feels less alone and feels okay to cry, because it’s part of the human experience. We are (going to be) okay.