gothicgrove

[gothicgrove]

How does one change enough to face the fear and confusion that shattered and stained memories bring? Complex PTSD is a never ending battle. My perpetual tug into the underworld that coerces mr to maintain complacency in even the darkest of situations. Struggling to feel real in a world that only brought blow after blow, more pain each day with no chance of acknowledgement from those who hurt you. That somehow it always ended up being your fault that they were hurting you. I would wait for someone to come take me away each night, sure in my heart that I must be something different from everyone around me. An alien that had been left here by accident, belonging to some faraway world where everything made perfect sense compared to the one I was leaving behind.

Or maybe I was something worse, some kind of demon that made my family suffer. That every bit of suffering I went through was deserved because of the misfortune I brought onto my family.

When I looked in the mirror I felt afraid. There was something wrong inside of me. I could see it so clearly. There was a monster in the mirror, on the glass window panes, in my shadow, inside of me. I couldn’t sleep either, too petrified that if I moved at all or breathed too deeply something in the darkness would kill me. My dreams were strange, nightmare after nightmare. Sleep paralysis that left me petrified of what was to come. I felt sick. I still feel sick. My mother called me a hypochondriac.

Nevermind that I wasn't allowed to eat at the dining room with her new family. Instead I had to eat off of the floor of my bedroom that I shared with my two brothers while my stepfather got three rooms to himself. That I spent more time away with the Boys & Girls Club than with them. That she would leave me to go on vacation while saying it was for work any time I got sick. Which I would only find out through her Facebook posts. Gee thanks mom, it’s great to see you’re in Hawaii while I’m battling the plague. Anything she could do to push us far away from her placate my stepfather and keep us from invading their bliss.

Then I would go stay with my father for the summers. Along with some amazing times together, I would face a new circle of Hell. As much as I adored him he became a different person when he drank. Alcoholism can turn even the kindest of people into warped versions of themselves. Accusing me of loving my new stepfather more than him as he wrapped his hands around my neck. That was his preferred method of punishment when it came to my perceived wrongdoings on his part.

Still I chose to live with him instead of my mother. The verbal and emotional abuse seemed negligible compared to the loneliness and neglect that swamped my time with my mother. I’d rather be locked in the house all day with someone yelling at me than sit there alone to fend for myself and my older brother. Those years with him were both the most wonderful and painful times that I have experienced in my life but it would all come to an end on April 6th, 2016. The day he committed suicide.

He blamed me before his attempt. My birth had brought ruin and destruction to his hopes and dreams. I was in fact the burden I had tried so desperately with every bit of my love not to be on him. I wanted to save him. I could’ve saved him. Tragically, I was held back by the fear of what he would do to me after I called 911. Knowing he would likely try to kill me when he came back home. I have spent every day since that day regretting the choice I made not to save him. For listening to my brother and stepmother when they told me not to run earlier when the ambulance sat at the top of the hill, lost and confused about where the house that showed on no maps could be. For not running faster even if the gravel stung and cut deep into my bare feet as it dug in. For being the 12 year old I really was and not the adult he carved me into. He was my entire world. What do you do when the world ends because of you?

Scream.

Except I couldn’t scream,

I still can’t scream.

So a part of him can live inside of me forever,

To replace all that died inside of me when I lost my dad.

To my dad,

I hope that you can find forgiveness in me in the same way that I have found forgiveness in you. You were hurting in a way that I could never comprehend as much as I tried to. That the VA never provided the proper support for and let our entire family down by failing to do so. May there be the peace, love, and gentleness in your afterlife that you were not given in your time on Earth. Please take care of the piece of me that you took with you, as that was always yours to have.

We all still miss you every single day that you’ve been gone and know that we all loved you with every fiber of our being. Thank you for the time we had together and know that we will never forget you.

-KMC