In the dark days

There is much about the past that seems to be an enigma even to me the one who lived it. Living with a disease is never easy but most assuredly it is not easy when it is mental illness, growing up there were a lot of indicators that I would eventually have depression and that I would eventually have to deal with it on a daily basis. What I did not realize was the impact that it would have on my life and the decisions I would make along the road to becoming the adult I am now.

The reality that I have this dreaded disease something that as I understand now is quit common and can be hereditary began to show itself in the formative years and shyness and quiet retreat, as I got older it showed in other ways, drug use and promiscuous behavior. Self-destructive behaviors were normal for me. It began though in the early years, having suffered at the hands of a family member, sexual abuse that would continue to define my life and lead me to more and more reckless behavior.

Looking at it now I know it for what it is, but it would be many years before I would come to terms with the things that caused trauma in my life. And many more years before I would be well enough to discuss it openly with so many people who have found themselves in the same dark place. In my family it was normal, I do not believe that there are many family members at least in my generation who did not suffer some kind of abuse during those years of growing up.

We all carry the scars from that time and now must learn to define our lives as something other than broken abused children. It is for me cathartic that I was able to deal with and find peace with the ugliness of the past that we grew up in, suffering at the hands of our own family members. So I had to ask myself where and when did it begin? Who allowed this hideous past to continue trickling down into every generation that followed? How many more lives have to be shattered before they realize that by keeping silent they are destroying lives?

All good questions yes? but one problem there are no answers, so what am I supposed to do? At least these were the things that I asked myself while I was going through the healing process. As my mamma always said ” Pick yourself up and dust yourself off” yes but somethings are not so easy to get away from and this is one of those things. How do I live day to day with the after math of sexual abuse by someone I loved?

Getting right with myself was the first step in making it through the quagmire of lies and secrets that have kept my family in silence for many years. For me, the fear died when I was 21 all that was left was rage, and depression and a need to destroy the very person that I should have been healing and protecting, Myself.

This is my journey, along with some poetry and other things I will use this space to begin a trip through my journey in the hope that some where along the way I might help someone in need so that they know that like me, they are not to blame for the things that happened to them and that there is hope at the end of that darkness.

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