Thursday, August 5, 2010

I see dead people

The past two weeks he has relentlessly haunted me day and night. There have been moments of excruciating mental and physical pain and it’s felt like I’ve moved into the Amityville house of horrors. There was one night in a panic I had thoughts of calling a Demonologist to come and exorcise my body.

I’m not fond of reliving the past. I do not wish to watch this horror film over and over and not only is it in 3-D, I can feel the actual physical sensations over and over again. There are times when I watch from outside my body, floating above that little girl, not feeling her pain, but seeing the pain in her eyes as she stares into mine pleading with me to help her. Other times I feel that I am her, trapped, in pain, unable to breathe. I hurt where she hurt, I feel what she felt, I see what she saw, I relive what she lived. I see the look of pleasure and power in his eyes as he made me into who he wanted me to be. It was a look of supremacy. Ownership. I was his.

The shame and humiliation of this continuous looping has left me battered and torn. I have tried to continue to live with an outward persona of a woman who is somewhat normal but that in itself has made me weary and vulnerable. I have done my best to get through each night but the scars within me feel like deep jagged cuts which are sealed off from the outside world, but remain a gaping wound visible only to me, and those within me.

I am doing the best I can right now. It will get better soon, right? Soon I won’t feel so small and frightened, right? I wish I had someone to sit with me tonight. Help me stay safe. I don’t feel safe.

He is dead but I still see him. I still feel him. I still hear him. I am dead. He is dead.

I see dead people.

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