The Darkness Of The Day

My best friend committed suicide over what happened to us as children.  He told his parents that he could not take the fear.  I was thinking about him today.  I was thinking about how hard we fought as children to get through the most terrifing of times together just to end up dead in the end.  It seems so unfair.

If I don't confront my fears or what is haunting me then I will not be that far behind him.  There is such a thin line between finding the room to express yourself and becoming swollowed up whole by what happened to you.  Flashbacks are very difficult to deal with in your life.  I do not believe that people understand how crippling they are to your everyday existence. Maybe it is because you cannot see them.  It is difficult to see into a broken brain. Flashbacks strike at will and you never know what will trigger them, so you are cautious of everything.  I have found that when they consume me I try and relax, allowing them to run there course.  Sometimes I will write my way out of them, hence all the spelling or grammatical errors you will run across if you read my stuff or get an email in the middle of one, sorry.  I have tried a lot of different things to stop the flashback but nothing really seems to work.  It seems that when your mind wants to relive a situation that whether you are in agreement or not, your mind does it regardless.  No matter your schedule or your whereabouts.  I have tried to show patience with myself but the frustration of the situation sometimes gets the best of me.

Today I am stuck in this one continual re-run in my head.  Davy and I were in the Church Building  on O'farrel and Divisadero Streets.  We were waiting for the morning service to begin. We were coming out of one of the side rooms into the entrance hall of the church.  My mother was walking towards us with several people following her.  I looked over to Dave and immediately grabbed his hand.  I turned out of the way while still holding onto his hand because I knew what was coming next and I would try to hold onto him as long as possible.  What comes next just disturbs me to no end.  I hate that I am playing this video over and over again in my head. He sees my mother and projectile vomits across the entry hall.  The vomit flys so far that on several occasions it would hit my mother.  It was so gross, I cannot even begin to tell you how discusting this was to experience.  The worse part has yet to come.  They would grab him, yanking him out of my hand.  They would scream and yell, casting demons out of him.  I was always pushed and shoved out of the way.  There was nothing I could do once the confrontation began, I felt so helpless. It happened so many times that my mother made him carry a bucket around all of the time.  One particular time that this happened, he was made to eat the vomit.  On the day that this happened I began vomiting too. 

These times in my life are etched into my memory and now it plays like a movie for reasons that make no sense to me.  All it proceeds to do is remind me of the cruelty and abuse we suffered through.  The frustration that I suffer with all of this stored up information just continues because there is no good way to look at any of these things that took place.  The on-set of flashbacks in my life are causing me to be flustered with myself.  What is it that my mind is trying to tell me?  What lesson have I not learned?

I feel that if I do not stand against the abuse  that has happened in my life then somehow I am giving a thumbs up to what took place.