The Roller Coaster
Depressed. That's how I've felt. Depressed and then, well, not depressed. It is this huge roller coaster, and frankly, I want off. At this point I don't really care if they let me off at the bottom, the top, or right in the middle. But please for the love of all things holy can we please stop this craziness of going from one extreme to another. It's irritating. Really.

I spent my day laughing, then crying, then laughing. I felt completely incapable of anything good, then I felt like I was the best ever. I guess that is the life I lead. I used to be used to it. I think. It's just irritating me now. I don't like being all over the place. Enough rambling.

I woke up yesterday morning with a strong sense that 'he' was in my bedroom. The night before I spoke with his wife (who I'm not happy with right now, either) and I dreamt of them both all night. The dreams in and of themselves weren't bad. But when I dream of him I wake up feeling like he's very close. It throws my whole day off. I hate it. Every time I see a car like his I think, just for a split second that it's him. Every time the phone rings I'm afraid to answer it. I don't want his voice in my head. Not that it ever goes away, but lets not refresh the memory.

I hate this life. Don't get me wrong, I love my life. I love my husband and my children. I love my job, my church family, my bestest friends. I love where I am and who I am, for the most part. But I hate 'this' life. I hate having these memories. I hate having to wonder if this is who I am supposed to be. Maybe if this hadn't happened to me I would be someone different altogether. Maybe I would be strong. Maybe I wouldn't lay awake at night remembering my childhood. Maybe I wouldn't be a 25 year old teenager. Maybe.

But that's all it is. Just a maybe. It's all it can be because I will never ever know what could have been. That's hard for me to come to terms with sometimes. I want to know if he did this to me, too. If he changed who I am, essentially. But I guess maybe I was supposed to be this way. At least that way it feels as though he hasn't touched everything. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know better.

I am stuck in my childhood these days. Well, really more in my teenage years. I'm going home soon, as I've mentioned before. As the days get closer I become more and more afraid of what is going to happen. I don't want to be there. I don't want to. I can feel it now. I can feel the memories rush over me. I can feel the regret and the shame. The hurt. The fear. The loneliness. The desperation to be loved, by anyone who would love me. I remember all the nights I spent intoxicated just to hush the memories. To hush my guilt.

I know, certainly I know that I shouldn't feel guilty. In my intellect I know that it wasn't my fault. I think most of my guilt stems from the way I reacted to the trauma. The things that I did. What a horrible person I was. I also think I feel like I should have said something a long time ago. I spent so much time trying to protect him, and the rest of my family, that I hid in my fantasy. I pretended like it never happened. To keep my whole world from changing. In that time, how am I to know that he has never hurt anyone else? I can't know. I hate not knowing. I feel like by not telling I put other people in danger. And at the same time I feel like I had no choice. Maybe that's my own weakness. But I was terrified.

I am not afraid any more. I am not afraid of him, anyhow. Just afraid of being paralyzed by the memories. I sometimes feel as though I can't breathe. I can't get through the pain. The memories wash over me and all of a sudden I'm twelve again. Lost in a world where I don't belong. Lost in the pain, the smells, the sounds. Sometimes I don't know how to make it back to reality. I guess that's what I'm most afraid of on this trip. I keep wondering that if my memories can consume me here, how much more paralyzing will they be when I get there, where those things took place? Am I going to be able to shut it out? Am I going to be able to walk away? Or will I collapse under the weight of it all? And most importantly, will he show up at the last minute as he so often does? I don't really have the answer to any of those questions. I just pray that God will get me through.

Ahem. Okay no lying. I don't pray that. I don't pray anything at all. I can't bring myself to make it through an entire prayer. Sometimes I can't even start one. I don't know what is wrong with me, but I've got to find my way though this before I'm completely lost. It seems so weird to me that I can't pray. I mean, really. I trust God. I rely on God. I know that I can't live without Him. So why is it so hard for me to approach His throne in the middle of this storm? Why can't I reach out to Him right now? I don't know. I don't know.

I guess I really am just rambling now. I'll go for now, and leave you with a hope for a sweet rest, and a happy tomorrow. May God bless you all.
4 Responses
  1. Just Be Real Says:

    Broken, I am so sorry for the reoccuring memories that you are having.....must be painful. I can relate so much dear one. I know the struggle with crying out and praying to the Lord, it does not come easy when your mind is flooded with hurt. Still, as hard as it is, God is really the one in the long run that can comfort us, even though we may not feel His presence, He is there! Dear one if okay, I would like to give you
    ((((safe hugs))))


  2. Broken Says:

    I'll take those hugs and hug you back :) Thank you so much for your encouraging words.


  3. Just Be Real Says:

    Blessings dear one! Hope you are doing a bit better.


  4. Just Be Real Says:

    Do hope you are sleeping better dear one! I know it can be rough, especially with those dreams that penetrate your subconscience. Blessings and sweet sweet dreams.


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  • I'm a wife. I'm a mom. I'm a photographer. I'm a lover of Jesus. My house is a mess, my kids are dirty, we eat take out more often than not. My life is loud, busy and crazy. And that's okay with me.
    This is Eric, the man you've been praying for. He's a paramedic. He quilts in his spare time. No, I couldn't make that up :) He has NASH (a form of liver disease, non-alcoholic) and diabetes, but those things don't define him. He's a man of God, an insanely wonderful husband, and the best daddy in the world.. Just ask these guys..
    Our daughter Ali, she's 9. She's fiercely opinionated and strong willed. She's a Daddy's girl, but the umbilical cord hasn't but cut from me, either. She's a gymnast, and proud of it. She spends more time upside down or turning flips than she does walking. She's crazy smart, and absolutely sure of it. She is my insufferable little know it all.
    Our son Dylan, 7. We lovingly refer to him as Chubs. Or Chubby. Or fat boy. Ahem. He is all boy, as you can see by his crazy wild energy. He has the highest pain tolerance of any child I have ever met. He plays soccer and does gymnastics, but truly he is a gamer, a nerd. He is an avid reader and loves to climb. Not to be outdone by his sister, he's a drama king, but to him, I'm the best mommy in the world.