WARNING: This post contains graphic descriptions of ritualistic abuse. Read with care.
I *hate* when flashbacks ruin progress. Due to some events from last night, a flashback triggered in my mind. I found myself caged, a collar around my neck and unable to stand in the confines of what amounted to a large pet carrier. I was a child, maybe eight or ten at the time, and completely terrified of what was happening around me. There were other caged children in the room. Some were completely silent, staring with empty eyes. Others were scared and crying. Thinking about it now, well past the flashback, it makes my stomach hurt. I’ll never understand how people can do those things to others.
The goal, if I remember correctly, was punishment for disobedience. The children had to prove that they were sorry through acts of self-harm. We had to *prove* that we were sorry. Hence the fact that my feet and arms are now covered with SI wounds. It had been many months. Yet here I am again, all bandaged up and feeling like an emo teen with a razor and a book of Sylvia Plath.
This flashback has left me shaken, no doubt, and it’s definitely something I’ll take to therapy. The hard work now is to toss away the feelings and go back to life proper. It is 2016, and I am, at least for the present moment, safe.