The words swirled around in my head, doing a dance of destruction, making my two worlds blend into one. The one set of two simple words a fluke, a one time situation, said without thought, said without knowing. The other set having been heard over and over for fifteen years, but having lay dormant for seventeen.
And then I’m not here any more. Every day the worlds swirl together faster and faster, reality becomes quite blurred, then I see the other face. I hear the other voice. I can feel the punches in my stomach, I am actually doubled over in pain with something that isn’t real.
Finally the shell shatters. It took close to seventeen years to build a new, almost fully-functioning brain. A strong woman built from nothing, a survivor. It took two words and the release of the conditioning that was carefully tucked away and sealed up with what I thought was a protective covering.
Soon all the old words take over…stupid, crazy, worthless, unlovable. All the old pictures of his face, his actions. Hearing his words, all of it apparently embedded in my brain. It all flashes over and over until I can actually see the shattering happen. I see the pieces blow apart, flashes of pain stuck in the memories of each part of my damaged body.
In my mind, the blade glitters with power. I can see it slicing through the flesh on my arm, my leg. The two-fold release of the blood. Punishment for being such a worthless human being and thinking that I could hide it all away for so long. Pain transferred from my brain, my heart, to something I can see. Something tangible. Something I can fix. I can’t fix what I can’t see.
But I really don’t think I can fix any of it all. I was just fooling myself and everyone around me.
I retreat to my safe place. It feels like too much effort to get the blade. I think of the mess I’ll have to clean up. I see the look of fear, pain, guilt, and yes…love, on my husband’s face.
My brain is tired, my body is tired. I cry myself to sleep. I dream of fighters getting knocked down, then standing up to fight some more. I dream of people, some I haven’t even met but know what it feels like, picking me up, wrapping their arms around me. I dream of my husband’s arms holding me tight, telling me how much he loves me.
I’ll try again tomorrow.