No SilenceMature

This day wasn't over yet.

I needed to tell my Uncle. I wanted to, but I just didn't know how to word it or anything. I hung out around him all day, hoping the opportune time would arise. It didn't. I just wanted to get it all done in one day, so this self-agony wouldn't drag on. 

Finally, at eleven pm, I was hanging out with him as he was unpacking. Nobody else was around. My brother kept texting him and he kept jokingly laughing. I would jump every time he would yell. I said I was on edge.

"Why are you on edge?"

Well, I have something to tell you and I don't know how to say it.

I just wanted to disappear now. I took it back, I didn't want to tell anybody. 

"Just say it. It'll be easier just to say it."

I tried. I really tried, a few times when the words finally came out of my mouth.

I scratched myself.


Seriously? Your going to make me say this again? I had never spoken this out loud, it was hard enough. 

I repeated myself.
Again. And again. 

He finally heard me. He had pity on his face. I looked down at my hands in shame. 

"I've known for a while."

My head snapped up. What? 

Your Mom told me what happened. noooooo......... She was crying and we were worried. Oh Jesus, I didn't want it to happen like this. She has been in agony for a while. *whimper* I didn't mean for you guys to find out like that. Your Mom said you blamed all this one her. I don't understand, I didn't blame this on her. I saw her as perfect, and strong and I wanted to be like that and when I wasn't......I would do bad things.

Does this all kind of have to do with He said it like it was a bad word. But yes, a good chunk of it was. It was all Dad's fault. If he hadn't done this to us, I wouldn't have done this. No. Wait. You have to take responsibility for you actions.

I blurted out something that had been on the tip of my tongue for months.

Its all my fault. Its my fault my parents separated. I came in between them.

That look of pity again.

No, you didn't. That silly. Ever kid feels like that. Its not your fault.

Yeah right.

The demons started talking.

You caused all this pain. You caused all this worry. You've taken years away. Your a mental case. You should be ashamed of yourself. 


He continued talking.

Do you think you should see someone? I don't know, probably. Grandma knows. GAHHHHHH!!!!! I think other people know too. How many other people? Friends of your Mom. I can't believe this.

I asked him how much of the story did you read?

He said he had started it, but just couldn't do it. 

The shame, anger, and being mad at myself were to an amazing height.

Did you hear about the covenant?

Kind of.

Me and Tavie made a covenant to never self-harm again. We agreed to talk to each other when we felt tempted to do so. 

He went on. I can't even remember all that he said. 

My head was whirling.

I thought I had worn my mask so well. I had. For a month or two. Then when I stop, and talk about it, they already know. Of course this would happen to me. All these people knew.

What am I feeling? Shame. I don't know why, maybe because of the fact I should have been stronger. 

He told me that nobody really expected it because I was such a.......good girl.

Tears filled my eyes. No I wouldn't cry. I wasn't perfect. 

I didn't want to talk about the good girl routine. But I needed to. There was a rhyme and a reason to my madness. I told him how I had struggled with being perfect, and when I wasn't, I would punish myself. Then I would get angry that I had done something that imperfect, and punish myself again.

He sent me a pitying/questioning look when I told him I had written a note for my Mom. I couldn't do it any other way. Her reaction had given me a boost to tell you out loud. I could barely say any of this out loud. 

He asked me if the number of times I had done it could be held up on one hand.

NOOOOooooo. No way. 

Did you ever make yourself bleed?

I laughed a little and said I didn't want scars. 

Did you do it for attention? 

No. I covered it up, you guys found out after I was over it. 

Now it was all starting to make sense. They had all acted differently to me the weekend I figured out they had found out. I was seeing a movie with my friends andmy Uncle came in early. To watch me. To observe me. 

This is why my Mom condescendingly asked if I was going up to my room to write. Why they had treated me with butter fingers. Why they had dropped hints about coming out of my room. I was so stupid. And why they had been nice to me for a while, to the point any other person would have been suspicious. Why my Uncle had wanted to come home early from his business trip. 

He asked if my Mom had talked about writing. Yes, she had. She said it was good for me to have another outlet to my anger.

I half-laughingly said that with all these people comes more accountability not to fail. I wouldn't fail. 

He laughed, and said that it was ok. He said I proved to him that I was really getting over it because I had talked to him in person about it. He said it was the past. He said we all went through this, just different ways. He said I was going to be ok. 

I might be ok, but my head was still spinning at the thought of all these people knowing. 

Don't look down, keep your head up. There is no shame in your trials, they are your past. I had nothing to lose, and everything to gain by telling them. I wanted help. 

I went to sleep that night, exhausted. I was so emotionally tired. I needed to talk to people, and let them know I was ok. I needed to let them know I wasn't doing this. 
I spoke out loud to the darkness.

Jesus. I'm sorry. I'm such a failure. I didn't want for any of this to happen. I didn't mean to keep everybody in such a state of agony. I'm glad I told everybody today though, but you know how overwhelming this is. I haven't felt this a long, long time Abba. I don't think anybody understand how much hope and faith I have in you. They won't understand why I'm doing so good until they do Father. I don't doubt in your trust. You are my daddy. I believe in you to work all things out to my good. These trials will turn into testimonies. I will help other people someday.

I was reminded of a quote I written on my hand for that day.

We are powerful because we have survived.

No pity.

No shame.

No silence.

The End

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