There’s a monster living in my home. The monster is ruthless, cruel and calculated. The monster lashes out in verbal abuse, knowing exactly where to strike me, cut me. The monster has no heart. The monster lies and laughs at me. The monster snickers and mocks me. So, I left. I moved half way around the world.
Many years later, I came back and there was the monster, still. The monster smiled a knowing smile as if to say, I knew you’d come back eventually. The monster did haunt me all the years I was far away, but the monster is not aware that I learned something. I learned that I had to let it go to find and keep myself. The monster knew I was scared and weak, but the monster did not realize that my desire to be me was stronger than my almost paralyzing fear.
I was lost and processing my trauma all the years I was away, far away. I used that time, without knowing it, to lick my wounds, to mourn and to sit and feel my depression. In those years, I raised my kids, I worked and made friends even though, I had and still have social anxiety. Often my digestive system rebelled and would not break down all my sadness, shame and fear. Often, I was stuck and could not breathe from all the emotions I suppressed with in myself. My husband and daughters loved me and that helped me not give up, not stay in the web of depression.
So monster, I did it. I left and never returned. You thought I never would.