As I sit down to write, to put down in words the past events and experiences that shaped my present I hear a familiar noise.
Every time I peel back a new layer of my story I hear familiar words running through my mind and body, not running, yelling.
Old threats, old manipulation and traps. Old warnings. Enforcements of silence.
“Don’t you dare. Keep quiet. Or else”
“You know what will happen if you talk”
“No one would believe you anyway”
“You brought it on yourself”
And many more.
The fear wallops my body as I take out the paper and pen, make the coffee, preparing to write. The same fear that gripped my throat, trapping my voice all those years ago.
The tightness, unsteadiness, the doubt, the heat in my chest. The sharpness in my throat. The flashing of fear in my head. The need to run. The freeze that sets in.
Being groomed, conditioned and manipulated into staying silent from early childhood through to your 40s puts a grip on your voice, on your sense of freedom and on your ability to live beyond the words you’ve heard over the years.
Silence becomes safety. Talking is dangerous.
Hiding is safe. Being seen is dangerous.
Challenging these fears is layered with shame and guilt.
Questioning the truth behind those fears reaffirms them.
I can’t tell myself nothing will happen in a way that my body believes. When I dared speak, through words or actions, in the past I paid a heavy price.
When I showed my truth in the past it was challenged, doubted, rejected or ridiculed. Often weaponised against me.
I have the damage that was the cost of speaking up. I have the memories of the price I paid.
The voices, not mine but those of my previous abusers and their enablers, scream to me to stop writing, to stop talking, to stay silent.
But there is a way through.
Look to the present. Looking around me I see that I don’t live in any of those past environments any more. I have a home that’s private and safe. Secure.
I have people in my life who are friends, who support and care and never wish me harm.
I have independence. The belongings here, the furniture, the food in the cupboards, my loved pet, the clothes on my back as safe, mine and can’t be taken from me anymore.
I am safe
Staying in the moment is safe.
The fear is natural, understandable, human. Let it breathe. Just don’t let it control.
The why is my way through this fear, the why is how I silence or at least muffle those voices.
I am blessed and privileged to have the opportunity and freedom to write, to talk, to share. Many others who experienced that world aren’t in that position, many are no longer here.
I talk, write to help protect others. To shield them and separate them from the world I knew. To help show those who wish to safeguard the world I knew, so they can protect others.
I write to finally grant myself the voice that my abusers silenced for years.
I write to give others a voice. To show there is a way through. That hope can exist.
So, puting some Elton John in in the background. I stop avoiding, stop procrastinating and stop obeying those old voices. Pick up my pen and let the truth breathe.
Survivors voices should be louder than the words of our abusers.
But there is a way through.