if i were strong enough

if i were strong enough to say it...

i would talk about the pain in my head and heart.

i would have told Mr. B that i was hurting last night because some of the things we were talking about triggered memories that i wanted to NEVER remember and ALWAYS forget,

memories that haunt me often and leave me lonely.

i would tell him the details of the abuse that i have never wanted to talk about. i would tell him hoping that he would be able to filter through them, understand my inner turmoil, and then let it go with the flow of tears that picking the scab of my abusive childhood would bring.


i would scream and cry, and curl up as a little child and be comforted by his tenderness, comforted in a way that i have always wished for, always needed, and never had.

never had but always given.

never had
because i have never allowed anyone
to hold and comfort me.

i would tell him that i am sorry that i push him away, that i am sorry that i push everyone away when they come close to breaking my dam of tears, fears and emotion.

i would tell him how jealous i am that my children have a loving mother and a loving father. i would tell him how much i hate being jealous of them. i would scream that it is not their fault, they don't deserve my frustration and my anger and my sadness in seeing them grow up with security and peace.

i would tell him that i hate not talking about my childhood,

but i hate the thought of talking about it.

i would tell him that i fear that i will end up lonely because i haven't been able to overcome the past and i seem to be pushing everyone close to me away.

i would tell him i notice that people avoid me.

i would tell him that i seen the pain of my childhood reflected in the way that others look at me, the way that others interact with me.

i can see the pain
in my own
children's confusion,
i would tell him.

i would tell him i notice that i am not the strong person that i pretend to be, and that i don't need him to keep pretending for me.

if i were strong enough