I would like to tell you how I really feel. How much you hurt me, how much you screwed up my thinking. I grew up never feeling good enough, because I wasn't. I was always looking over my shoulder waiting to hear what I'd done wrong. And then there was what you did physically. Which I am so not ready to write about. But I think about it lots. Because of you, I struggle with anger- rage, even. And self esteem, and body image issues, and panic attacks, and flashbacks, and depression. Not all because of you, but in part because of how you are and what you did.
Sometimes I can still feel you. Have you any idea what that's like? I wish you did. I wish you could feel as miserable as I do sometimes, when I'm in the middle of a depressive episode and am thinking everyone would be better off without me, or when I'm in the middle of a flashback and I can actually feel you touching me, or when I wake up from a nightmare in a cold sweat, or even when I'm so angry my heart is pounding out of my chest and I'm digging my fingernails into my skin to keep from losing it. Well, I suppose you have felt the last one, haven't you?
There were good times, too, don't get me wrong. But I think knowing there were times when you were good makes it more difficult to deal with the times you weren't. Makes me doubt myself and my own goodness. Makes it difficult to justify how it wasn't my fault. Makes me realize why everyone took your side.
You are done controlling me. I'm a strong adult who can stand on her own two feet. I don't think I'm so very strong yet. But believe me I'm getting there. You got to win for a little while. Now it's my own turn.