Memories

It's cold, I can see my breath. The wind and rain are battering against the window like a burly Policeman trying to gain entry. I pull the cover up under my chin and reach for Toby, my jack Russel to snuggle into me for warmth. His breathing is deep and steady and offers some small comfort. 

Lying in my childhood bedroom, the walls covered in old boyband posters I could be forgiven for thinking I was 15 again, worrying about makeup and who potentially fancied me at school. Instead I'm 40 filled crippled with insecurities and my head is bursting! Bursting with memories of better times and simpler problems by reality is never far away. Creeping in like a dirty stop out after the walk of shame. The darkness is everywhere, engulfing me like a black cloak.

So what exactly is hidden in the darkness? And what could be keeping me awake? Well memories. Memories of trauma buried deep within me. Everyone has trauma in their lives. Some are able to brush it off like dandruff, while others swim in it. So let's go for a dip...

My head is filled with pictures. A wee girl sits playing with her dolls while she sings a wee song, her granny sits in her rocking chair by the fireplace, fire tartan spreading up her legs. A man walks in. He's tall, skinny and smells of stale sweat and cigarettes. He's asks the wee girl "does she want to play mummies and daddies?". She thinks it's a new game, she doesn't understand...

Afterwards she's not sure if she liked that game! She knows it's not like any game she plays at school. She's told "not to tell anyone about the game" because they would be jealous and upset and she would "get into trouble". So much trouble that's her "mummy and daddy wouldn't want her anymore" and she "would be take away to a school for bad girls". But she's a good girl and she doesn't want to be bad or upset her parents so she stays quiet. And I stayed quiet, for 19 years.