I’m far from ok. I thought telling my family would make it easier to be not ok because I thought them carrying me when I couldn’t stand on my own would make it easier. It didn’t. It’s harder. Them not knowing meant that I could keep pretending that my story wasn’t a part of my reality. When I couldn’t bare that my history is my story I pretended that it had never happened and since my family didn’t now the truth it made it easier to pretend. I can’t pretend anymore, I can’t escape my history so what to I do now in the moments where I can’t bare my story? I ended up flat back on my kitchen floor earlier this evening, all energy just drained and I fell apart. My story keeps slapping me in my face, I can’t outrun it and there is no where I can go where it isn’t a part of who I am. It’s unbearable.
Tomorrow I am going home, the train leaves in 7 hours, it’s 11 pm now and I know that it will be impossible to get any sleep to night. If I do, nightmares will haunt me. I don’t want to see my parents faces, I don’t think I can bare to see my story in their expressions. The pain my story is causing is enormous. My father cried when he heard it.
I decided that I will report him to the police.
You broke not only me but my entire family and for that I hate you!