I had a flashback at the end of August that brought something that I thought was a nightmare into focus.
As I started writing about it – I noticed that my perspective shifted from first person to third person. And then I noticed that I do that a lot with my writing.
Turns out I have a habit of talking about my trauma as a “story” – and I remove myself from it. But according to my therapist, I need to start telling it as MY story. It happened to me so why would I tell it as if it happened to someone else? *insert eye roll here*
So my psychiatrist and I and came up with this little challenge to write this about this event as it comes to me, and from multiple perspectives. But I HAD to finish the first-person version first.
So here is part I of who knows.
Trigger warning – child abuse.
While the Words behind the words for this piece will be coming soon - I feel like there's a few things about this event that I need to state beforehand.
This piece takes us back to September 2005 - when we were packing up my Grandfather's cabin and a place that had been his home since the 1970's.
This photo is the view from the window that was right next to the piano. A view I spent a lot of time looking at as a kid, when the only toys I had was a deck of cards and whatever stick happened to float up onto the beach.
We were putting the last boxes in the van and I stopped for a moment to watch the shadows dance - for the last time.
But I was quickly interrupted by my mother - who, without speaking a word, pushed me up against the closet door and wrapped her hands around my neck.
This is where the flashback starts.
And to the people who are going to try and gaslight me - this event was witnessed by another person who wasn't involved in the situation.
And it was their screams that finally made my mother let go.
