Today marks six years. Six years of tensing up whenever someone touches me. Six years of searching for you every time I venture out of my house..searching for your face, searching for your voice, searching for your hands, or the smell on your clothes. There are times, more often than I’d like to admit, that my mind tricks me into seeing you and my body reacts. My feet turn to concrete blocks, my heart races, my head spins, my breathing slows, and I feel sick. Then there are the times that I really see you. This is no way to live, if you want to call it living anyway. The fear, isolation, anxiety attacks, flashbacks, nightmares, depression...I am not me anymore.
You see, before you I was in an abusive relationship and it took me two years to start rebuilding my life. I put myself in college and I made friends (lots of them!) and the professors loved me and raved about how far I would go. For the first time in my life I was happy and doing well. A boy came along and broke my heart and I went to you for support. You were my friend..I trusted you. I stopped talking to my friends (they were your friends too) and I graduated with honors but never used my degree. My life crumbled from underneath me.
I want so badly to ask you why. Why me? Why didn’t you stop? Did you plan to do it? Why did you do it?
Its been six years...but with this post, I’m ending the silence today.