Writing and sleeping
By Gabriella Cacciatore

I am a 26-year-old warrior dealing with the aftermath of being sexually, physically, verbally and emotionally abused from the ages of 4 to 15. I feel empty and a prisoner to my mind and body. There is so much to say but I am so tired. I don’t know what it is about not sleeping that makes words just pour out of my mouth. Actually, it’s not my mouth they come out of. The words spill straight out of my fingers. It’s like the tired part of me just wants to tell a story. She wants to get the truth out of my body and onto paper. She wants me to know that she exists and wants a turn to speak.

There’s so much to tell, but…

Every part of me is numb except my finger pads when I press them against a keyboard. Sometimes I can ramble on for hours but then there are other times I sit and stare at a blank screen, unable to press a key without hitting backspace a million times.

There’s so much to say but there is an extreme amount of pain that comes along with the story that I want to tell. Some days I just can’t handle it. That’s a blatant lie. I can handle it, I just don’t want to.

The never-ending cycle

When I write, tears stream down my face. The type of tears that flow out of your eyes when you are at a funeral, not too hard but hard enough that you taste the salt on your lips and leave a visible wet mark on your shirt. I really should consider getting a waterproof case to put over my keyboard so I don’t have to spend a thousand dollars on a new computer each time I write a chapter in my future memoir.

But maybe not; maybe going to Best Buy would be good for me. Maybe it would make me feel less lonely. Being able to talk to someone who doesn’t know how dead I feel inside and feed the temporary high that comes with shopping, all at the same time, sounds pretty good to me. That is, until buyer’s remorse kicks in and I walk into my house with a mind full of toxic shame, guilt and anger for giving into my impulsive behavior. The never-ending cycle that feels impossible to break.

How long?

Complex PTSD & Dissociative Identity Disorder are stronger than any armor a soldier can wear. Finding a way to break through the armor feels nearly impossible, but with the right tools you know it can be done. But how long will it take? You can’t break metal by hitting it just once.


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