So, I faced my daemons

 

 

 

So, I faced my daemons (or at least the one I remember)
I did the hardest task that has ever befallen a person in history to do.
The trials of Hercules were like lifting a feather in comparison to what I did.
What did I do?

I remembered and “told” someone.
I had just been shot and my memory is full of holes.
I realize most are from my injury, however many were made by myself, so that I could survive my life.
I remembered my cousin raping me at the creek.
I tried to hide it, bury it, and forget it.

But now I couldn’t stop re-living it every time I tried to sleep.
So, I had my mother drive me to the outreach program that was next to Saint Mary’s.
I do not know where the strength I had came from.
I do know that I couldn’t have talked without it.
Yet somehow it was there and I talked.

I don’t remember how long.
When I was done my mother took me home.
I slept for 3 days.

I went to counseling but it couldn’t help.
After all, how many men do you know who have been raped?
And “will” talk about it?
And who have been the target of methodical abuse from their own family?
Didn’t think you knew too many that are not dead, in jail, of just plain nuts.
After all a man is supposed to protect “themselves” and “never” show any sign of “weakness”.
And my family can’t stop hurting me now, because someone may find out about the past if they do! They need to keep me controlled with my mouth shut.
So, I started writing down little bits and pieces. I have hundreds of little things, big things, and small. Some I put on my computer and others I keep on a flash drive until I can figure them out.
So, I keep asking myself,” Have I got any “happy” memories at all?”
Of course, there’s no reply because I don’t talk to myself.
Because that guy is a jerk!
Or at least that’s what I’ve heard!
And what reason would anyone have to lie about him?