TW: A story of a flashback

[Bermuda]

A peaceful day, my restful baby dreams in my arms. He fell asleep so quickly this time. I smile at his still face and kiss his forehead before stealing away for a moment alone.

A shower, I think to myself, a nice hot shower, that's what I need. (Showers are a luxury that I don't take for granted since becoming a mother.) I turn the water on and soak my sleepless body for just long enough to feel refreshed.

He still sleeps. I pat myself dry, and redress into the same pajamas I wore before. These things don't bother me anymore. I smile, and open the bathroom door. Tea, I think to myself, that is a true luxury.

Then, it happens. The squeezing. The warmth and pressure building around my neck. I can't breathe. I can feel the muscles in my throat protruding, pushing against the invisible force caving in around me. I can hear the swooshing of blood in my ear. Air, breathe, air. It's all I can think. The pressure in my eyes swells.

My husband looks up from his computer, 'Is everything alright?' He asks. I begin to cry, and retreat back to bathroom to collect myself in peace. Everything is fine, I tell myself. How strange, I've never been... No sooner as the words were uttered to myself, did I recall.

I was choked. When I was six years old, I stole money to buy food. I was caught. My legs dangled as I was held against the wall. I went to school the next day with purple blotches all over my face and was too ashamed to tell people they were there because I am a thief ...And when I was 14, my brother, I would have died had my aunt not come in.

The day must go on, I shake it off. My son is awake, and I must greet him before he cries. I am ALWAYS there for him.

Carrying on, with a pain in my neck, an aching in my throat, and other real life reminders that life isn't all smiles and tea.

[Snowdrop]

Your words touched my heart. Heartbreaking. I'm so sorry.

[owl25]

Beautifully and hauntingly written, Bermuda. I am so sorry you went through those traumatic events.

[Not Alone]

Those were horrible experiences. So sorry you went through that. I know it's really hard with a little one, but if you get a few minutes, take some time for you.

[RiverRabbit]

Shame is the barb on the hooks of trauma.

Bad enough to be choked as a six year old... Bad enough to feel the sheer burning terror of a gasp of air you cannot take... bad enough to have the innocence of childhood ripped from you as you faced a very overwhelming, very insistent assurance of your mortality.  But, you also had the shame of what led up to it... a true sense of being small, vulnerable, and alone in the world.

Take care removing these hooks.  And they can be painful to remove.  But, with them, the shame is removed as well.

[Three Roses]

Terrifying! I know the feeling of being deprived of air. Ages 12 and 16 for me so I was a little older than you. It wasn't your fault. You weren't a thief, you were a hungry child trying to survive. The things we did were never enough to justify treating us so brutally. Peace and gentle thoughts to you. ❤️

[Kizzie]

I don't know if this is comforting Bermuda, but remembering often means we're ready to process our trauma. Perhaps knowing you will always keep your little one safe is helping 6 yr old you to rise out of the dark place she's been hiding for so long - she knows you can and will take care of her if she shows herself.   

for 6 year old you, that should never have happened.

[Bermuda]

Thank you, plural.

[Kizzie]