I haven't posted anything for a while.
However, I have a back log of drafts in various states of completeness awaiting either the delete or publish button.
I haven't posted because I've had a mental fall-back. A fall-back to the darker days of my breakdown when I was trying to deal with being a survivor by researching everything I could about child abuse.
It was a never ending rabbit warren of victims, over and over, failed and punished by those around them.
It lead me to some stark places of paranoia and despair in the darker recesses if my mind and I don't know how I managed to crawl out of it, but I did and I don't want to go back to that place.
If I do, I know I won't make it back and will spend the little life I have left, dribbling into a metaphorical straight jacket.
The thing which comforts me and brings me back to a level I can cope with, is that, through the entire history of human writing, these things have been written about.
It's all there in plain view once you are willing to see it.
The great literatists of eons past have repeated over and over the murky cycle of abuse which permeates throughout the centuries.
They knew, they wrote.
They told it in fantasy and legends and myths.
They explained everything and that's why they're the greats.
And still today, the great writers come, concocting fantasy realms integrated with the present to give you the escape, comfort and comeradiree to know you aren't alone, you aren't the only one and sometimes, the only way to cope, the only way to exist, is through make believe.
It's less painful than the truth.
No comments:
Post a Comment