The Sting

You know I’ve never denied that I have “blank” spots in my memory. In fact, I try very hard to remember as much as I can. Years of mental, physical, emotional abuse caused my brain to “protect” my traumatised thoughts. Every now and again, when there isn’t a traumatic event and the place is calm and safe, I may have a memory return; sometimes good, sometimes bad.

Today’s happened to be in a place not expected, but then most aren’t where I expect them to happen. I’m not going to get into all the how’s and wherefores, let’s just say it came from a place I never dreamed of. My past has a way of creeping up on  me, when I least expect it. When something is brought to my attention, depending on what it is, can depend on how I will respond.

I was a very messed up, confused teenager. I did not have a diagnosis like I do now. I made plenty of mistakes and many choices were made as a result of the dysfunction in my home as well.  I was not stable, I know this now. When words are said to me that go back to that place, it feels like a “nail into my heart”. I felt ashamed that my past was that bad and moreso when I was reminded.

The sting felt far and wide inside of me; I contacted a friend who has been in my former group programs and we bounced it off one another. I just needed that person to help me filter and process it.

Words can sting especially when all one needs to do is “open mouth and insert foot”.

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