Help Me! I Am Broken

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1 Memories

Memories they are a funny thing really. I find myself asking what triggers memories to comes back? Why is it that I am haunted by the bad memories more than the thousands of good ones? The nightmares and the thoughts I have are still so vivid I tell myself often no wonder why I am so conflicted?
My doctor friend recently asked me when was the last time I was truly happy? I could not even answer at first because surely there are some happy moments that are not hindered or negatively effected from my past. I decided to sit on the question for two weeks until we met again.

The bad thing about being broken for so long is that after a while many of us learn how to cover up and mask our true selves. It becomes like second nature hiding in the shadows and trying to overcome the pain. It is scary because not everyone feels as though they are strong enough to ask for help. Unfortunately, I personally am one of those people partly because I feel that others have had it worse than myself. I feel guilty and that it is not fair for others if I feel sorry for myself.

Instead I live with the memories and the nightmares. I keep my secrets hidden from the World especially those closest to me.
I broken down crying last week when I met with my friend. I told her that my trauma is not any worse than somebody else’s and I feel guilty for not being able to heal myself from my experiences in my past. I feel guilty for not being able to let go of the memories. I feel even worse for waking up crying every night while trying not to wake up my husband or my children. I hide my tears from my friends and family because if they knew the effects that my past has had in me I am not fully sure how they would react.

My friend told me to never feel guilty and my traumatic experiences should never be down played to someone else’s. I apologized again for crying and came up with the excuse that my pending menstrual cycle was making me overly sensitive. I am not sure she bought it though.

We continued our talk for a while and I continues to open up a little more about some of my experiences and memories. I made sure only to expose a little bit because I did not want her to know all of my secrets for I have kept them hidden for so long.
Our memories make us who we are because they are our experiences. The good and the bad it does not matter everything that we go through as people mold us into the people we become.

I spent my weekend and the few days that followed thinking, wondering, crying and feeling thankful for all the positive that has counteracted the negative. Regardless, as I look in the bathroom mirror all the horrible memories resurface under my thankfulness and I pray to the lord....
I Am Broken

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