Dealing with Post Traumatic Stress is like living in a permanent fog. I can tell you complete story lines from books but important events in my life like who I dated and for how long are often difficult if not impossible for me to remember. It is a constant source of frustration and sorrow. Always trying to remember people and places and never quite getting there. This is just a little poem on how I feel at times.
Just a poem regarding the feelings that hit me from time to time as I struggle with recovering from drug induced anorexia. Sometimes the battle between getting healthy and what my warped sense of what I should look like it a difficult one to fight. Like recovery from any addiction / illness it is a day to day struggle.
For me finding myself pregnant at 16 had more to do with looking for my self esteem on the outside instead of trying to find it within myself. I liken it to the SuperMan complex. Teenagers feel invincible, they feel like bad things happen to everyone else not to themselves. The truth is though all of us have our own version of Kryptonite. For some of us it is drugs, alcohol or for others like me, it is sex.
This is my story of dealing with a gang rape when I was a young girl. It is only now as a grown woman that I am able to write about and acknowledge what happened to me as a teenager. I spent many years denying and hiding what happened in an effort to forget and move on. Rape is not just a violation of your body, it touches your very soul, strips away a piece of you that you will never get back. This is my story, I hope it will let you know that you are not alone.
When I was 19 I lost my apartment in Colorado and ended up living in a homeless shelter. The fear and sadness that I felt of not knowing how I was going to eat or even worse how I was going to feed my own child was terrible. We take for granted so much in this world, in particular the fact that most of us in this country never think twice about where our next meal will come from.
I choose to stand out rather than blend in. I choose to speak out rather than keep silent. I choose to seek my path rather than let it find me.
I write a lot of poetry, stanzas about my feelings, thoughts at certain times. I want to clarify that because I chose to share these so publicly does not in any way, shape or form, mean that I advocate or embrace anorexia, drug abuse etc… I am in recovery and very, very proud of it.
For many years I was a bird trapped inside a gilded cage. The outside seemed so close yet so far away. Within my barred existence I did my best to sing even when in my heart I knew no one would here my song. I spent a long time looking out and wishing for a way to be amongst the other birds so beautiful and bright.
My brother Ruben died on Sept. 21 in his sleep at the age of 31. I have been struggling the last few weeks on how to process and deal with his death. Like me he too had an issue with prescription medications, his choices where pain killers (downers) while mine where speed (uppers).
It’s 6 am, the world is dark but my thirst is great. I am barely out of bed yet my thoughts are already on that glorious orange pill locked within the secure box a few feet away.