Healing (176)

I hate this word. Like really seriously think it’s such a goddamn stupid word, at least in respect to trauma.

A broken arm heals. A fractured toe heals. A gash that’s required 17 stitches will heal. Does trauma seriously heal? If it does I’d like someone to let my body in on the know-how please, because I seem to be a bit slow on the uptake.

The concept of healing always seems airy-fairy when it comes to this stuff. Like you need to relax, let it be, and magically you’ll start to love yourself and move on. Bullshit. Maybe one day I will get over the fact that it happened. Maybe I’ll learn to hate myself less, maybe I’ll be brave enough to remove myself from my family. But it’ll always be there, it’ll always hurt when I look at it. It really won’t just heal and be good as new. Fuck that idea.

one hundred & seventy eight: mother

i really can’t do this one justice either, tonight. though i feel like i write about her every second entry, i feel struck dumb by the magnitude of this one.

i am one. a mother, i mean.

i had one, but i don’t anymore.

there is almost nothing that fills me with more desperation than the absence of one. nothing that makes me feel more lost and bereft in the world.