Mosaic

I recently had a loved one ask me about the trauma I refer to on my page. I was scared to tell them because I didn’t expect the reaction to be healthy but after confirming several times, “are you sure you’re prepared and can hold the right space to hear it?” They said yes.

So, I shared despite my gut telling me they were not going to hold that space for me. I shared despite the discomfort my body feels every time I say the words out loud. I told them I was abused by a mutual loved one during my childhood and adolescence. They denied it at first, so I explained further- even though I have learned through therapy that I don’t owe anyone an explanation… here I was so desperate to have this particular person understand the gravity of what I went through that I explained my trauma anyway. 

I told them things only those closest to me know. I told them things only my therapist and husband know. I didn’t tell them everything. Somewhere in the midst of denial, trying to grab the attention back on themself and victim blaming, they held that space. “I am so sorry, Megan. I didn’t know. I know the last time you revealed a trauma to me, I didn’t respond the right way either and I am sorry for that too.” 

I cried and told them that I knew their instinct was to choose sides and that history has told me that they’d choose my abuser. I said this was the sole reason I didn’t tell them sooner because I didn’t want them to choose sides. I did not want to lose them. I couldn’t lose them. I said that I can’t keep holding onto the trauma because it’s making me so sick. And I couldn’t keep contact with my abuser for the sake of peace amongst everyone else because every time I talk to them, I feel little Megan shrinking and feeling even less protected. They told me they understood. They told me they’d never ever abandon me and never choose sides. They promised they would always be there for me. 

Two weeks later, I called them with my son and was met with immediate aggression. I was told my traumas gave them nightmares and that they felt I set them up, forcing them to take the burden of listening to them. I asked them to stop speaking about something so painful in front of my son. They changed the subject but would briefly weave back into implying how betrayed they felt by me.

Finally, I left my son in his room and privately told them they can’t speak to me or about me like that in front of my son. I told them I’m sorry if hearing about the abuse has been too much for them but I lived it for 20 years. They said I was calling them a bad person. I said, “no I am not, but if you feel this way about yourself, you need to handle that privately. Respectfully, I’m not here to comfort you. I’m the one who experienced this abuse. I cannot keep coddling you when I’m the one who deserved that protection.” 

Voices were raised on both sides. I ended the call with anger, “you should have protected me.” My last words.

That’s it. It’s been over a month. I have only received one text from them and it was saying I should have wished my abuser a happy birthday. They chose sides.

I’m in deep grief. I’ve had to make decisions that I never imagined were on the table. I am gutted. They broke their promise but I knew better; they’ve always chosen my abuser over me. How foolish for me to think this time would be different.

I have not been well for the last handful of months. I’ve been struggling not to cry and absent when it comes to my business. Then shaming myself for not having the bandwidth to be there for others the way I used to be. It used to make me feel fulfilled. I’ve spoken with multiple mental health professionals in the last few months and everyone has come to the same conclusion; I’ve got some pretty intense CPTSD that has been especially triggered during this whole ordeal.

Today I spoke with a brilliantly strong and nurturing woman who asked me certain spiritual questions and I said, “ya know, I’ve had to kind of table my spiritual stuff because the other side of me really needed time to heal.” She responded by saying she sees herself as a whole rounded being and it was interesting that I described myself in sides.

I’ve always described myself this way but it did give me a lot to think about on the drive home. I have spent the last few months picking up the shards of all the sides of myself, desperately trying to put them all back together but feeling lost when I find a broken piece that never belonged there to begin with. This broken piece was never mine; it was just given to me by so many people who would rather I feel their pain than ever deal with it themselves. I am a mosaic of all the trauma of those who came before me and I’m exhausted trying to make it beautiful. I am exhausted trying to make something come from it that I can point to and say, “hey, but it’s worth it!” 

I know it’s easier to say “then just let it go! Let them go and move on” but they are woven in the fiber of who I am. I am broken because they broke me from their own broken pieces. I cannot just move on and let go when every time a loud noise occurs nearby, I flinch and feel panicked. I cannot just let go when my body remembers everything. 

Tonight is a full moon and every spiritual content creator says it’s the ultimate full moon to let go and release what does not serve you. I told my therapist I hold so much shame because of how I was treated for so long. I told her that I don’t want people to know what I’ve gone through because they’ll look at me with pity or cringe at the truth. I just feel ashamed to have taken abuse for so long and frankly, for missing my loved ones despite how much they constantly hurt me and constantly did not care for how much they hurt me. I feel guilty for even sharing this much. As though my responsibility to protect them supersedes them not protecting me.

But maybe this is what I can let go of tonight; the shame. I will not let all of this pain hold me captive any longer. It is free under the light of this moon.

Maybe I’ll be free too.