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The Things That Were Lost That Day

by Abygael Silvers 6 months ago in recovery
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A story about a hard time in my life

The Things That Were Lost That Day
Photo by Mishal Ibrahim on Unsplash

I twiddle my finger in my dark, blonde hair. I think about all that’s gone wrong.

“What, exactly, happened there?”

“Well, I-” In a chair in a whimsical office, across from the woman dressed in all blue, I dodge her questions. I refuse to give away the secrets I hold so deeply in my heart. I want to cry, but I keep a straight face, conquering my sadness with sheer willpower. No one can make me speak of it again. I will never speak of it ever again, no matter what.

It pained my heart so much, to think of the things that hurt me so. It made me feel so scared, like a lost puppy. No matter what, I just really couldn't speak of the terrible things. I just couldn't do it. No matter what I did or thought, I just couldn't get these horrible thoughts out of my head. The thoughts and fears I felt deep in my soul. No matter what, I just couldn't shake the feeling that if I spilled my guts to this woman, I would lose everything. That I would feel an even deeper pain if I let it all out. That things will go even worse for me if I let it out. I'm terrified to my core.

“You see, I-” Eyes darting to the floor, head rushing, body shaking like a leaf in the wind. I can’t speak about the things I’ve seen. Sweat dripping from my brow, I want to cry out. I want to break free, cry out, and let loose, but I can’t let them know what I know. That day didn’t happen and I didn’t see a thing, as far as they know. Even though I know otherwise, they can’t know. I simply can't let this woman know. No one can ever know again.

And then it all hit me, the horrible stuff. The unbearable trauma I've gone through and the unbearable burden I've held inside up until now. How much I want to speak of all that frightens me. The things that I know. The things that I’ve seen. The unspeakable, awful things that I’ve seen, that the only others who know are silent. Afraid and mute, they don’t want to speak of the things that did them in. And then there’s me, the outlier.

You see, I want to talk. I really want to spill my guts and tell the woman dressed in blue of the horrible things that I’ve seen. I want to break free and relieve myself of all the feelings I feel about the events that happened that day. Yet, something I keep in the back of my mind tells me to keep quiet and run away and hide away from all the pain I feel. I wanted so badly to just let it out and finally leave this day behind me. That maybe if I talked about it all, then the fear would finally leave my body and I could be set free. I wanted so desparetely to be released from this cage, this awful, awful cage built out of anxiety. Please god give me the strength to let go of all this. I can't go on keeping all this pain inside. I can't go on like this.

Should I listen to it? Should I break the silence? Should I yell out and let the truth be known? Should I succumb to my heart? Should I speak? If I don't speak now, I may lose my chance to say what happened forever. If I don't speak, then who will?

With one last deep breath, I shiver, “Let me tell you everything.”

recovery

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Abygael Silvers

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