Rain

I hate it when it rains
Always makes me sad
My tears slowly flow
Time seem to stop
Allowing me to brood
Into a forgotten past
No one must know
The truth behind the tears
Engraved in a memory
Deep within every raindrops

Hey, how are you today? I hope you are okay.

That one above is a poem I've written ages ago.

I have been absent in here again. Well, Mr. R never misses me anyway. Just joking. I'm just dealing with my mental issues right now. I'm having my own mental break. But I guess nothing I do helps ease my anxieties. And worse my over thinking just heightens it.

You probably guessed it right, this is a personal post. So trigger warning ahead of you. If you are an innocent pure soul, don't, don't dare reading this. JUST DON'T READ IT.

I have given my fair warning so it's not my responsibility if you came out tattered after reading this. And I should also say my thanks in advance. Thank you for having the time to read this.

I am sorry if I am venting to you guys but I have really no one to talk to. And this is the most unbiased way I could get my steam off.

You see, it's raining hard everyday for the past week. And I hate when it's raining especially when I'm all alone at home. It freaking triggers my trauma. All the bad things that happened to me as a child keeps having a marathon inside my head. The flashbacks you see at movies they really, they do happen. It happens to me and everytime it does, it feels like I'm reliving everything again. It feels freaking real. It's like I'm having nightmares when I'm awake.

It was that particular memory when I was about nine. It was the time that the molestation started. I was sitting alone in the sofa at our living room and it was raining hard outside. I couldn't play with my friends and my siblings were gone. As usual I was left by myself. I don't know my cousin was there. When I saw him coming out of his room, he glanced from side to side as if looking for something. He then sat beside me, asked if where are my brother and the maid. I said my brothers were at the mall and the maid was on errand. Then he asked me if I wanted to play a game.

I don't have a freaking clue that time. When I said yes, I was beaming with joy. I was bored and was dying to have someone to talk to. When he touched me I wasn't scared at all because I don't even know what was happening.

That memory was the one that keeps playing over and over inside my head, in an endless loop. I keep praying, shouting to that little girl to stop that monster from touching her but nothing changed. No matter how I try it stays the same.The outcome stays the same. And all I can do is cry, cry for that little girl.

I goes on for days now and it's slowly draining me. It makes me feel worthless. And I'm scared that it's true.

You would prolly ask, why I don't talk to my boyfriend about this? He knows about my trauma. And I told him what's happening to me right now. But because he needs to work. I don't have a choice. And I don't want to pressure him about my anxiety of being left alone at home.

I'm on the brink of telling him that I'm breaking my promise to stay home until we conceive. You see I have a very sensitive uterus and the stress of work is not good for me. But work keeps me going make me stay away from my nightmares.

You would also prolly ask why I can't stay for a while on our house? Maybe until the rainy season stops The problem is, another trigger for me is my family. I'm way passed being mad at them and blaming them for what happened to me. But it doesn't stop them from triggering my trauma.

Don't get confused my family are nice people. My mom is a wonderful human being. She is my inspiration and role model. But it doesn't stop the chemicals in my brain from telling me that she is a reminder of a last that I wanted to forget. It's sad but it is what it is.

And so yes, home isn't an option as well.

How about a close friend then? I stopped telling my friends about my feelings when I didn't get the empathy I hoped they could offer me. And when one of them asked me: did you like it? After relying the horrible thing about my childhood. Who would like that thing? What child would like that thing when you don't even know what's happening? Why would a friend ask me that horrible question? And so it ended there I bottle everything inside me until it is too much too handle and my only solace is crying.

And then you'd prolly suggest a psychiatrist for me. I have friends in that field and have consulted them. But they only offer me these: talk about your past, accept what happened in your past, stop blaming yourself. And I did all of those things, I've tried talking about what happened to me. I have long forgiven that person who hurt me, I have forgiven my family and myself. I also accepted that no matter what I do, nothing would change. So it was up to me if I would continue to ruin myself or pick up the pieces and start anew.

Though those things didn't stop my nightmares. Those things didn't stop my triggers.

I admit it, I have suicidal thoughts. I hurt myself before. But fret not, I would never dare to commit suicide. My psychiatrist friend told me that it was me being too rational that keeps me sane.

I will tell you I am a functional adult but deep inside me is a child asking for an ear.

I don't expect sympathy from you guys nor I expect anything from you. This is me trying to voice out my thoughts where no one would judge me; for once I wanted someone to just listen and don't give any unrequited comments.

And please if you're like me, I'm all ears up. Ready to listen.

And to others please be more patient and an ear to someone too. Its okay if you don't know what to say, your company is enough.

I may be forever tinted but I'm I'm striving to be a better me, at least a tiny step each day.

Thank you for listening.