Trauma 1

Trauma 1

The weird thing about traumas is that, aside from trying so hard to overcome it, it also feels like a recurring event. I myself can speak my truth about how much I try every single day to forget my fears and just be brave like I always do. But you know, I’ve come to a point in my life where I let myself soften up and feel things. Feel fear. Feel anxiety. Feel weak. Feel the need to ask for help. Because during that time, I thought that doing so is human and humane. And I actually let myself feel from time to time. To not put my game face on. To not be this strong and firm and resilient human being. It’s not losing, or maybe it could be. But for me, it’s an act of kindness to myself. I am being kind by letting myself feel vulnerable. Coz I got weak points too.

I deserve to be saved instead of doing all the saving.

Today is sunny Tuesday afternoon. In my whole writing experience, it’s always easier to pour emotions when I am feeling sad, broken, down. Ah, name it! Basically anything that doesn’t equate to feeling okay or fine. It’s important to take advantage of what you feel while it hurts. No matter what time of the day it is or wherever you are, jot the pain down. Because once you get over it, and your heart has recovered, writing about that exact pain you have won’t be the same. I mean, it might still give the same aura or vibe. But the emotions? It’s something you couldn’t cheat on completely. The reader and the writer knows when what they’re reading isn’t written whole heartedly.

So yeah, basically, I’m writing this entry because in a hot Tuesday afternoon, I’ve found myself blank.

Why? Trauma.

It hunts me over and over again. And sometimes, I wish people could feel what I feel so they would understand. Sometimes I wish they also experience what it’s like to cry in silence and make sure no one hears you. Sometimes I wish, they feel that painful cramp-like-pain in your chest and suddenly you are gasping for breath. Sometimes I wish they feel how it feels to be judged, disliked, belittled, doubted by people who don’t even know a quarter of who you are. Sometimes I wish they feel how sad it was when your mom asked you how your day went and you fake a smile and say that it was good. But the truth? What I wanted to say was, “Oh God it was awful. They’re so mean and cruel. They’re so evil and full of hate. I’m sitting there like I did not exist. I’m someone people admire, but with them? I felt dead”.

Part of me also wants to keep people safe and save them from experience what I felt. I wish they would never feel what I had to feel. I wish they won’t encounter people who keep biases on who to be good to. God I wish no one would ever treat anyone the way they treated me. I wish no one had to suffer what I had to suffer. Because honestly? It’s a recurring nightmare.

So yeah, this is very personal. I know.

But if you’re reading or listening this, please always be kind to people. You don’t know a single thing of the nightmare they have to wake up from.

They needed to wake up from, actually.