The starts of an abuse
How do these things start? An abuse that is? I suppose the word itself must be defined, but, in general we all have an idea of what it feels like to be trapped in a nightmare.
I often wonder if there is a warning bell that goes off inside when we sense doors are going to close behind us and we are going to slowly be lowered into a pit of no return. Or do we find we simply wander and stumble from inexperience into what we think should be an new exciting adventure but it metamorphoses into a cleverly disguised mine field we must now step carefully through?
In my case, I was young and inexperienced. Although, I had sexual experience, a rape is never a relationship of equality, but simply a hideous incident in which cannot be taken back. A young mind is blackened like coal, the body tarnished forever. The only way to feel as if a cleansing, cool breeze had passed through me was to wipe the crusted slate clean with faith that I was forgiven.
But, I never did forgive myself completely, nor did anyone else, which made my heart wide open to become a battered football in the end
zone.
There was no place to hide and just think.
I experienced a tiny bit of Vietnam as I crept through the dense marsh land behind the house while being fired upon.
I often found myself looking at the end of a barrel of a gun during a terrifying, forced, game of Russian roulette.
My very first real relationship was to quickly become a nightmare to end all nightmares I would never wake up from!
I find I can no longer write as the terror is awakened in me at this very moment. Perhaps tomorrow will bring new strength....
