When I open up about trauma, what I've gone though, my child hood, my life. When I open up about the torture I've gone though and the layers of hatred I've faced and the ignorance and arrogance of people. Along with the psychical, mental and sexual trauma.
I feel like I'm opening up unhealed scars. I'm allowing people to look at bruises that never really healed, wounds that forever be dripping and oozing. I'm allowing people to see me at my weakest part, and I feel like as I open up about my trauma, I'm also uncovering marks and showing them off, but at the same time. I want someone to kiss and tell me my marks don't matter. Or that they don't make me weak.
Because what happened to me made me feel weak. disgusting. stupid. A freak. I feel worthless.
I have a lot of grief and blame with my trauma. I still hate myself for stuff thats happened. I still choke on tears and angry, I sometimes can not find the tears I search for, the cries I can not make. I can still feel the marks, the scraps, the bruises, the beatings. I can still feel it.
I guess apart of me has always hoped that Trauma might end up moving out, let those scars be scars. Not have remaining a live bits go and survivor. Sometimes when I open up, I feel like I'm playing a game show, like survivor and I'm going to be kicked off of my own island.
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