I keep thinking about that day, that day where my innocent soul was shattered by the cruelty of the world, the one of lowest moment, probably the scariest moment of my life.
The day where my older brother had a fight with me and chased me around the apartment unit. I got scared, I was literally like 5-7. I didn’t know what to do. How do I not get hurt? Was what little me would’ve thought. So I ran towards the door. I left home. I was scared. I was alone in the world. The first time ever I was truely alone, not lost in a store, actually alone, out in the world. I mean, in hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have done that, but I was a kid, couldn’t expect that kid to be making good judgement calls. How did I even survive? Kidnappings were rumored to be common in my country, and it was pure luck I didn’t get kidnapped.
Every time I think about that, I cry, I feel so sad for that kid, “that kid” being my younger self over a decade ago.
Every time I see “normal” family relationships, I just keep thinking of “that kid”.
Its weird. Sometime I remember the exact PoV that day, being terrified.
Sometime I think of it from like a “movie” 3rd person point of view. And “seeing” that kid being tormented by his older brother just makes me rage.
Maybe the 3rd person view is me trying to distance myself away from it. Trying to cover up the mental wounds I got that day. That day. That day that I will never forget, that I cannot forget. The betrayal by someone who share the same blood as me, “brother”, huh? With that kind of sibling, who needs enemies?
So yes I keep having to relive that moment.
I kinda tried to seal off the memory, but eventually the Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) just gets piled up, the list of these events get longer. You can’t hide those memories, its always with you, for the rest of your life. They say if you have 4 “ACEs”, you are statistically more likely to have depression. Well, here I am, the statistics were right.
Kind of…
I keep thinking about that day, that day where my innocent soul was shattered by the cruelty of the world, the one of lowest moment, probably the scariest moment of my life.
The day where my older brother had a fight with me and chased me around the apartment unit. I got scared, I was literally like 5-7. I didn’t know what to do. How do I not get hurt? Was what little me would’ve thought. So I ran towards the door. I left home. I was scared. I was alone in the world. The first time ever I was truely alone, not lost in a store, actually alone, out in the world. I mean, in hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have done that, but I was a kid, couldn’t expect that kid to be making good judgement calls. How did I even survive? Kidnappings were rumored to be common in my country, and it was pure luck I didn’t get kidnapped.
Every time I think about that, I cry, I feel so sad for that kid, “that kid” being my younger self over a decade ago.
Every time I see “normal” family relationships, I just keep thinking of “that kid”.
Its weird. Sometime I remember the exact PoV that day, being terrified.
Sometime I think of it from like a “movie” 3rd person point of view. And “seeing” that kid being tormented by his older brother just makes me rage.
Maybe the 3rd person view is me trying to distance myself away from it. Trying to cover up the mental wounds I got that day. That day. That day that I will never forget, that I cannot forget. The betrayal by someone who share the same blood as me, “brother”, huh? With that kind of sibling, who needs enemies?
So yes I keep having to relive that moment.
I kinda tried to seal off the memory, but eventually the Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACE) just gets piled up, the list of these events get longer. You can’t hide those memories, its always with you, for the rest of your life. They say if you have 4 “ACEs”, you are statistically more likely to have depression. Well, here I am, the statistics were right.
Fuck.