There’s a feeling I have been trying to place for some time. Something about loss, something about things being irreversible, something about grasping at empty feelings.
I can’t trace it. It feels like I run and run and run at it but I can’t hold it, and I cannot understand it.
It’s something to do with having a strict upbringing in a protective family… being taught that there are ways a girl behaves… being taught that sex before marriage is wrong. It’s something to do with the irony that you have grown up with a history of sexual abuse in the very strict family with its very strict norms… unprotected. It’s something to do with the idea of being brought up to believe that family is everything , family is made up of your uncle and aunts, your cousins and every other relative in the line and learning one day that the very cousins you have grown up with… have broken your trust and abused you.
It’s something to do with growing up with repressed memories that break through one day when you are sitting in a class for sexual education.
It’s something to do with years of feeling like you had something to hide but you didn’t know why. Something about years of hating your body once you know, feeling disgusted and angry and helpless. It’s something about struggling with loving yourself, trusting others and having faith years after all of it is done. It’s something about grasping the idea that something has happened 15,16,17 years ago and the numbers keep adding but there’s nothing you can do to punish them.
It’s a lingering feeling. Maybe some day I’ll put my finger on it. Today, I’ll make do with writing it down.