The shroud

I know some of what I will share on this blog will touch some tender spots on my loved ones’ hearts. When addressing these difficult topics, keep in mind that my intentions are never to hurt someone.


In retrospect, I honestly don’t know how I managed to hide so much from so many people. I fought for so long to cover up any emotions that I had. I became so numb to everything. I had to.

From the loss of a stable home, everything spiraled. It made it more difficult to make decisions because I had to somehow please both of my parents on holidays or other occasions. I’d feel crushed and ridiculed because it didn’t always go smoothly, but I tucked my emotions away.

I remember when I was little, whenever I would do something bad, I wouldn’t admit to it. I would just stare and be completely silent. I wouldn’t say yes or no, no tears or anger; just silence. This may have lingered.

I can look back and see the times when I would be upset at somebody, whether that was my parent or a boy I liked–yes, that one was quite often–I would just brush it off. I wouldn’t draw any more attention to the topic because it wasn’t worth my effort. I would never speak up about anything that actually mattered to me because I was afraid of expressing my emotions and being exposed. This flooded into my schooling as well. I have so many opinions, but never spoke my mind. I still see this happening; it’s a continuous struggle.

I don’t know when, or if ever, I’ll ever be able to break free of this shroud I’ve created around myself. It’s not healthy to bottle things up — I’m currently trying to sort things out with the help of my therapist. The feeling of repeatedly ripping open these wounds is excruciating. But I have to stop picking the scabs of my emotions in order for them to heal.

And I’m no longer afraid of that. This is me; showing the world my scars.

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