Even though Mama warned me that there would be days like this:
When #MeToo took off I felt uplifted about the epidemic of sexual violence. Inspired. Motivated. Hopeful.
A great swell of healing was entering the atmosphere.
I am very familiar with the freedom that comes from being able to share your traumatic experiences, openly.
I am also familiar with the feeling of being in bondage as you drag those nightmares, flashbacks, and the heavy as hell pain with you.
I told my family about the horrible experience of, by that time, nearly a lifetime of being raped when I was 13-years-old. I had to.
I was trying to commit suicide. I was failing at it. Since I had to live, I had to tell. I just couldn’t live with it anymore.
I went to therapy, got better and went on to enjoy high school. As a matter of fact, I thrived in high school.
when I was around the age of 19, my throat physically closed up. Yes, like the allergic reaction I have to certain fruits.
I could barely swallow.
I could not talk.
I was “talking” but no words were coming out.
I had no voice. I literally had no voice.
I wish I could say it was all of a sudden. It wasn’t. I felt it coming on. It was like every day of my life was grey. All of the people and everything around me was black and white. Actually, everything around me felt like scenery. I felt disconnected from my life. As if I was living outside of it.
So, I knew something was coming. I didn’t know what it was, so, you know I didn’t how to fix it.
I had to seek professional help.
to be continued in Part 2………
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