I finally said no. I finally said I’ve had enough. I finally stood up for myself in the most difficult way. I want to be proud but I don’t know how. In the midst of this triumph, the most I feel is grief. I feel tired, exhausted, and lost. Trauma has been my identity for the last 6 years. I was trauma bonded. I hate that crutch of a phrase. I’m more comfortable when someone yells at me, ignores my tears, and becomes physically violent. I’m used to being threatened and being unheard. Being barricaded when I feel unsafe or uncomfortable and I just want to go home. I’m okay with chaos following after too many drinks. A call from jail, or a threat that a life will end if I don’t do as they say. I’m used to believing that I deserved it, and it’s my fault – even if I wasn’t there. Coming back to it all for the 9th, 10th, 11th time because I believe maybe this time it will be different. I fall for the apologies and the love bombing. He knows that I care too much about him despite everything. I listen to others who are used to it and normalize it. I’m used to people giving up and losing touch because they can’t keep watching me put myself through hell. I’ve been used to it. I’ve been addicted to it.

I relived fragments of suppressed memories to do this. I relived my hardest moments for this. I was nauseous every day. I forgot how bad it truly was because I didn’t want to believe it. It’s normal, it’s fine, I’m not the only one. The others like me are doing okay, so I should be okay too. I went through another fast version of hell for this. I’ve been numb for years, experiencing, repressing, and moving on to exhale into the next day. Shouldn’t I be relieved that I am finally free? I can finally live my life without someone shaming and guilting me for every choice I make to feel happy. No more threats to my safety and well being. No more meeting toxic expectations for love. No more being stuck and not being enough.

That is correct, I feel grief. I’m fully seeing everything for what it really was. I grieve the years I lost to suffering when I could have bloomed instead. The people I loved dearly who I pushed away. People who chose to walk away too. How I am failing to function and I still feel afraid to make wrong moves. I have to live with this, all of it, be silent about it, and pretend it never happened. Smile for society and the systems in place. Pretend like I am doing just fine because on paper, it seems like I should have no reason to feel unsafe, traumatized, imprisoned, right? Right. I’m doing just fine, like I’ve been pretending for the last 6 years anyways.