My Truth

My truth is that my husband hates me beyond measure and I am not sure what to do about that. It ruins every moment of every day knowing that it is just a matter of time before I get into trouble for speaking my mind that I am not allowed to have. The justification that he comes up with to ignore me on the regular than come unglued when I am unable to reciprocate any other emotion than anger and fear. I am there. I sit there wondering what I did to deserve this life and if another day is worth seeing it through. It is only in those moments when I feel stuck here. When he is glaring at me from across the room. Letting me know that I am worthless and everything else in this house is his. It is rare to find an outfit I worked and paid for out of my own pocket. He just likes to have that kind of control and power over me.

My truth is I figured out how painful life can be at a young age. Not everything is rainbows and unicorns and once that myth is broken it will be impossible to try and fulfill any other dreams. Magic is necessary for you to feel inspired. To push you in the directions that you yourself never thought you could ever go. Point and case is I fear dark water. Whatever lies in the depth of the darkness terrifies me right to the core. When I can’t see the world that is below me my anxiety likes to pretend that there is no bottom to be found. In the darkness there should be some comfort because if we can’t see we can’t be seen and there is at least some serenity in the notion of that.

My truth is that you will never tell a loved one enough how much they are loved before they are gone. I mean you could tell them just before you turn to leave but you will always wish you could say those words just once more. I still see my Grandmother at the top of her stairs holding onto the rail as she told me to come back often. “We are getting old you know and we won’t be around much longer.” Why are these words the ones that are constantly in my head. I see your grey paisley dress matched perfectly with the silver ringlets in your hair. Your little arms reach out for me and your eyes smile at me one last time. My truth is that no matter how many days go by it always feels just like that day. If I come back to your house like I used to will you promise to come back and open that door? I still remember the pain my Dad experienced as he looked anxiously throughout the neighbouring towns for blue patent shoes. Your last wish was a pair of blue shoes. I know we weren’t able to fulfill. Grandpa’s Alzheimer’s began to take him shortly after you were gone. He was probably gone before that but you were always the glue that kept us holding on. My truth is that after you left I became a horrible woman. I was so angry that the Universe kept taking I no longer cared if I was alive or dead. I still visit you grave but truth be told it hurts so much that you aren’t lying there with Grandpa. In true Doukobohr tradition people were buried in the order that they came which means you two will forever rest a part. All those years together in life to be separated for eternity in death.

My truth is for most of my life I was somebody else for reasons I will never understand. I hated almost everybody for some reason. Sometimes, most times, it was just out of jealousy that they didn’t have to suffer the way that I had. I hated that I wasn’t allowed out on weekends or nights. My controlling, older boyfriend kept very short tabs on me. The only time I was allowed out was when we were with his friends. I will never forget the cocktail of Kiwi Coolers and Vodka or the burn from the Salt n Vinegar Thunder Crunch chips when it all decided to come up. The boot to the back of the head that came while I was retching caused my forehead to smash into the porcelain. I remember thinking at 13 this is it, this is happening. This is everything my parents ever warned me about. Coming in and out of consciousness I thought for sure I was going to die. There were teens engaging in sex all around me. This was my nightmare. This sure as hell wasn’t me.

My truth is I am so exhausted from running from it all that I took a hard stance here right in the sand. I was tired of what others were saying about me. If my truth wasn’t good enough then who needs them? Am I right? Why even give a damn? Who I am today is a by product of all these events that have happened to me before. Some good. Some bad. Some could be said to have not even happened at all. I get that a lot. It is not up to me to determine what it is you feel about me and why. My intent has always been raw and honest. I hope to help others to one day get their courage to be brave enough to fly. We are as only as great as our mind allows ourselves to be. Once we learn to protect it life falls away a little more easily. To connect with others with nothing holding you back. Nothing in between or in front just a raw realization of trust and truth, now what do you think of that?

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