A journey from hell and back
Began innocently
Caring and teaching
Did I ask for it? I’m still wondering
Expectations were high
Failing was not an option
***
Ghosts of the past
Haunted her till paranoia
Inside of her nightmare, she pulled me in
January followed that December. Cold followed me everywhere afterwards
Killing me
Leaving became the only option
***
Months later
New city, new job, new studies
Old friends and roommate
Peaceful return. At first
Quietly stepping over my boundaries. He kept pushing
Rest was not an option anymore. It started to feel like abuse
***
Spiralling up and down following the cortisol waves
Talking became challenging. Words were boomerangs that could only hurt me
Unique strengths and abilities I got from my teaching years
Valuable tools to pave my way back
Waving my old friends farewell. Forgiving her for my descent never reached hers
Xanthic, the colour of my path moving forward
***
Young, I stayed. Becoming an adult was stopped in the process
Zen with my past, I wonder about my future
About the Creator
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson5 days ago in Fiction
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