A tight ball of anxiety still sits on a throne in the pit of my stomach. Two years and counting and I still can’t let go of the emotional trauma that my time in Italy put me through. My trust in everyone, especially men, was irrevocably shattered. My world was flipped and I’ve had vertigo ever since. I’m struggling to find recovery from it all, to make peace with the hatred that I have harbored; It is buried deep and coursing through the veins of my body.
I am a big proponent of not letting the past sour my present, but I still think about everything that happened at least multiple times a week. When I’m just sitting here alone, or breastfeeding while the house is quiet, my mind rattles on and I think back to all of those motherfuckers with their shit-eating grins. What is worse, is that you can leave a place but your stories will live on (especially if the same people are around to tell them). Once you are gone there is nobody to defend your own name. Gossip spirals out of control and your reputation soon precedes you.
The truth will always find a way to shine, I believe that. I also know that the evil we do will catch up with us in due time. It is so hard to rest and stay golden, to have faith that you can and will be rewarded for staying honest. It was all I had to fall back on, in the darkest days, when everyone around me seemed an enemy. I knew I was being true to my heart. Sometimes the anger and anxiety just overwhelm me, though, and I get frustrated knowing that now, especially now, there is absolutely nothing I can do to find my justice.
Learning to move on with the knowledge that I will never achieve retribution has been the hardest thing of all… I guess I’m not quite there yet. Especially when I know these events will never effect them in the same way. They all get to move on with their lives and I am still over here, in a new land surrounded by new people, fighting for my emotional sanity while learning how to be a new parent and keep a new marriage alive.
Time is known to heal all things, but I just keep asking myself how much time will pass before I can stop feeling this pain? Before I can let things go, not feel the creeping sensation of dread up my back like little spider legs? How long before I am strong enough to slay the power these people hold over me? I am not the praying type, but it is times like these that I am desperate for even the walls to listen.