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Purim is fast approaching I feel my mask is in place, the mask I wear every day. The happy go lucky, easy going, happy personify I display. The well liked successful, responsible, smart and stylish appearance I keep. I never lie or hurt anyone intentionally, I am afraid of no one I hold a small fear of animals and I despise being judged. Once the masked is lifted loneliness engulfs my being. I feel sad, trapped, I feel fat, ugly, and I am hurting. I am afraid of dying young and don’t want to be ever called immature or a victim.
Today I mark in my calendar three years of mental health of personal growth and gratification. How did this come about?
Love happiness and fulfillment is what fills me today. In the past this blog has allowed me to vent, to mourn to express emotions I didn't know I owned. ...I awake to find myself in bed surrounded by doctors and nurses. I forget where I am. Dr Sacks in his loud voice booms "How are you feeling Rochel?" I shake my head I blink several times and answer in disbelief. "I feel as if I have been run over by a car
Alone, scared, crying
Night has come again
I wait sad
He leaves closing the door
Darkness all around
I feel nothing
I glance over the medical forms the receptionist handed me a few minutes earlier. There were many different people walking around coming and going I was not interested in what was going on around me. I was busy filling in the papers on the clip board. I was worried I would take too long and be late for my first appointment.
The first time I am in hospital for a lengthily stay I am twenty one month's old fighting for my life suffering from meningitis. The first time I black out I am three my babysitter thinking I am dead panics. As I child I often blacked out with no explanation. The first time I went to school I waved good bye and did not look back I loved being social and having fun. The first time I hear my parent's whisper I know something is wrong, home life is stressful. The first time my sister Sara does not come home and misses my seventh birthday I am scared. The first person to tell me the truth is a
I made a choice painful and as complicated as this may turn out I know it is the right step forward. I am going to give my parents a second chance at protecting me, will they own it?
Hesitantly I tell them of the molestation that their son had afflicted on me, my older brother. The fear that was silently imposed on me the pain and shame. Slowly I tell them everything.
Silence
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