Phoenix Warrior

I wear my scars proudly. They are my battle wounds.

People always say the past is the past but when what happened in the past affects your daily present life it makes it difficult to keep it in the past. I haven’t had a pain-free day in over 20 years though the actual abuse slowly started when I was twelve but the true horror started when I was fifteen. Most people have great memories of their high school years mine were about survival and getting through another day. My birth mother didn’t just do the so-called typical abuse that you would normally hear about it was more like something from a crazy horror novel. I spent a lot of time during last two years I had lived with her with many injuries most people couldn’t have handled without any pain meds and I can still smell the dried blood that seemed to become apart of my life.

Some memories are a distant blur but the violent injuries she inflicted on me are crystal clear to this day. She was right-handed now this is important because I am left-handed and she did all the major damage to my dominant side which has made things a challenge. I had no idea just how bad I had been damaged until the State of California had me completely checked over. I had bones that were broken and healed back deformed due to not being treated, multiple head injuries and many others but since i was in survivor mode i had no idea just how intense these injuries were that I was enduring on a daily basis.

I am now thirty-seven years old but my body feels more like a 60-year-old. I have joint issues in my hands, knees and hips and it has gradually gotten more painful over the years. It seems as though everyday I wake up in more pain than the day before no matter how much rest or soaking I have done. I used to be able to tough through it but now that I am older life is really catching up with me. I get angry lately thinking that her letting me live is more torture as the days go on because all the damage she did to me hasn’t gone away and will not. The past twenty years it just seems to slowly eat away at my body. Sometimes I still wonder why I actually survived when medically I shouldn’t have, if only to feel like an old lady before I even hit my 40s.

I’m not asking for any sympathy. I am just sorting through the emotions and trying to figure out how I can go another twenty years like this. I am mentally strong and have come a very long way but people can only handle so much in one lifetime! I would enjoy being able to wake up tomorrow feeling nothing and have a good productive day, possibly create a new body oil scent or clean my apartment. I just want to feel like a normal person for once! Is that too much to ask for?

I am like a Phoenix nothing can keep me down I will just keep rising from the ashes!

 

 

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