Public Slander

I have been told time and time again to not share my personal stories of pain and suffering with anyone. I must keep “hush hush” about my personal demons and what I have experienced. If I am not supposed to communicate with anyone and I have to keep this secret, where is my release? What about my songs? They have messages in them. My songs have a story line. Why can I share my songs and not the stories behind them?

I always asked this question. People do not want to hear about depressing things such as this blog here. The problem is, self harm and suicide are growing in numbers. People feel that they cannot talk to anyone for the fear of being ridiculed or judged. I say fuck that shit! If you do not release these feelings and emotions properly, they will never go away. Of course, going public is not for everyone. However, I am ready for it. I have grown. I have healed. My purpose now is to help others who are in need of help. Maybe you stumbled upon this by accident, but I promise this was no accident. Look closer, and you might find something about you that resonates here. Please do not let people tell you to not post things like this on the internet. There is a reason for doing so. Mostly, it is a cry for help. I am a huge advocate for getting help. I wish I had known people who would be able to have helped me and understood me when I was going through this. I felt very alone and abandoned by those I loved. They did not understand, but they asked why I did this to myself. I did not understnd this myself. The only thing I knew, was I enjoyed the pain. The pain was my escape.

Truth be told, I have not died yet of telling someone about my pain. My insides died from anxiety. I did not die physically though. Parts of my mental illness started dying off like dead flowers and fell to the ground once exposed to what would be considered pesticide. In this case, pesticide being awareness and truth. The flowers being my vulnerable state of mind. Once I started exposing my secrets, I could breathe again. There was no elephant on my chest anymore. I started sprouting from a seed into a stem. I flourished into a beautiful flower, full of hope and love. I was growing. I was letting go of what harmed me. I let go of creating physical pain to deal with the emotional pain.

Society as a whole does not like to talk about these things publicly. Some are afraid they will be unfairly judged. Others think you should keep your entire life personal, as in do not tell a soul anything. The government keeps millions of secrets locked away in vaults with iron mallets locking the doors. Those secrets keep them in control. What we do not know we cannot change. What is not released cannot be saved. I agree that there are some things you should not tell people. On the other hand, you have to tell someone at some point. I created this world of angry minions and angry beasts in my mind from not releasing my emotions. Did I get very far before I fell down the rabbit hole? No.

My mom had this one person in her life who became someone that entered my life eventually. This person was not nice. In fact, this person was quite abusive to our family. I was favored though, because I kept my mouth shut so tight my lips would bleed. I never disagreed. I never stood up for myself. I never felt safe. At the time, I did not know my mom did not know how to get out of this situation. She loved this person dearly. She wreaked havoc on my family. “Kids are to be seen, not heard.” That was her favorite quote. She always had to sit at the head of the table. Not my mom, but her. Nothing we ever did was enough. She took over the entire house. Have you ever watched Monster House? That’s what she did to our house and our family. The more I think about it now, my mom was stuck. She had no escape from this evil thing. This evil woman started to control everything my family did. It was no longer my moms rules or my moms house. She caused a lot of pain towards us. I took it hard. I was scared for my mom. I thought my mom would be seriously injured by how bad this abuse was. Mentally and physically.

My mom started to become someone I did not know. She was not herself. She was scared to stand up for herself. She became submissive almost. Might as well have had puppet strings attatched to her body. This person was holding the strings to my mom. Anything she said went. No questions asked. I think this is when my anxiety got bad. I became afraid to tell my mom anything. I was scared of this person, not my mom. Screaming, yelling, slamming doors…that became normal. That was my normal environment. One of my siblings was acting out. We had locks on our doors to protect us at night. As a 10/11 year old, how was I supposed to deal with this? She would search our rooms quite a bit, kind of like in jail how they search your belongings all the time. Thats what our household became. A prison of soulless bodies. Going home sucked the life out of me for the longest time. I did not want to go home. I could never write freely in my journals. This person loved to read my private writings and my songs. To this day, I still get scared of loud noises and storms. Fireworks especially set off my PTSD. I get so anxious now that it causes vertigo and extereme illness. This all came from childhood trauma, and most of it I blocked out during this person’s time in my life. There was a big fight when this person finally pushed my mom over the edge. We almost had to get the cops involved. This was a very scary time. Even though she was not in our life for very long, she made a lasting impact on lots of things. Everything got better after she left, and then my mom found another woman whom she really loves and is happily married today.