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Safe
When did you feel safe?
What a loaded question. I know he meant safe from cancer, but the words struck a deeper chord. Less than a year out of treatment, do I feel safe that the cancer won’t come back? No, I don’t worry about it every day. I’m too busy worrying about side effects from treatment, work, school, family, and the idea that — shit, I’m lonely.
Safe. Safe is an idea, a dream, a fairy tale if you will. It’s a question that’s been repeated in my mind for days now. Looking back on all the trauma, cancer is one in a list of horrifying events in my life. The tragedy of a little girl hidden behind memories too scary to say they are real. Wondering why we all thought it was okay.
Safe? I don’t know that I’ve ever felt safe. When I close my eyes, demons come calling. Screeching sounds of abuse by those that you trusted.
Safe? A teen pregnant and pushed aside. Left to accept the pain of not being enough. Raped, child taken, told you’re nothing and no one would love you.
Safe? Tossed against a wall by my mother as she held scissors to my throat threatening to kill the demon she thought I was.
Safe? Taken from my home because I trusted someone enough to tell them I was scared. Only to be hospitalized for suicidal words said out of frustration of being tossed aside again. I was an emotional teenager with…
