a moment in my memory that still haunts me
Heyy, thank you for checking this post. I'm not sure if this checks as a trigger warning but this might count as a trauma post. Just felt like something I had to get off my chest and share, I think. Also, sorry for any grammar issues. I was typing this up on my phone while on my lunch break a few days ago.
I'm in a better place now :)
When I was young, probably 11, I was sitting at the dinner table with my family. We were travelling a lot when I was younger, and I remember it was a time where we recently returned to the states. I finish my food fairly quickly and ask to leave the dinner table. If you are from the Midwest, you may know what I'm talking about. My mother said sure, and with my plushy toy that I kept on my lap, I walk away from the table with all the intent to go back to imagination land with my plushy.
Only that I didn't. I heard my mothers voice, I was carrying the plushy as though it were gliding off the walls and held it there, paralyzed in fear. I turn to a table of expressionless faces, save for my mother who is frowning. "What are you doing?" My mother asks. "I'm going to play with my toy" I reply. There was a seriousness in her voice I rarely heard. "You are too old for that... " the next sentence was unintelligible as blood was rushing to my head, ears burning, my heart racing, "... you need to stop that and act more your age." "But I was just going to play by myself away from everyone else", or, something along those lines. Its what adult me vaguely remembers.
The next few seconds of short conversation I don't remember, but I remember the loss in trust I have to my mother. Plushy in hand, I nod in acknowledgement. I turn to go down the hallway, probably with tears in my eyes, or maybe the same expressionless face I was met with by my family. I felt alone. I sat on the couch in the living room. I stared at my the floor. I contemplated that I probably shouldn't play any more. I lost a piece of myself, murdered with the knife twisting and digging deeper. The rest of the evening was a blur.
I remember wishing for someone to help me, give me comfort. I wanted to cry, but no, crying is for babies now. I lost a part of myself. And I grieved for that part of me that I had to hide away.
As an adult, I think of this moment from time to time. I try to come to grips with the feelings I had. But, time maybe can heal. That's why I still play today. Not in the same way as I used to. I've matured in my play but I still do what I can to slip back to when I was a kid. That part of me can heal, and can grow with me. And that's okay.