Isolation has become my closest companion. Truth be told it is safer for me to hide from the world and from myself than to feel the painful tears of regret. As I lie in bed I am painfully reminded of my old home. Its walls were one of prison and hell itself.
When I was little I was a professional at two things, climbing things and making forts. My favorite place to climb (largely due to the fact that I was not allowed to go up there) was on top of the treehouse. There I would feel safe, far from the grasp of fear. Seemingly so close to the glory of the stars above. The second safest place to hide were the elaborate forts I would create with blankets/ chairs/ and creativity.
I would build a castle on a cloud
My greatest masterpiece was the one I made in my room. The sheets hung from the top of my bunk bed and surrounded it like a fortress. At nighttime I would pull another blanket tightly over my head and stick my teddy bear between my legs to seemingly protect me from the dangers that incurred during the night. I came up with the excuse that I did these odd things because I had fat legs. I would forget the truth of abuse and make up a negative lie about my personal self. Taking all the blame.
My fortress of imagined protection only lasted for a day before I was forced to tear down its beautiful walls. This picture I have painted of hiding is also how my emotional state precedes me now. In these lonely moments of no direction I find time to process and to heal. In every tear and emotion felt there is freedom found. No time is wasted in taking the time to get to know yourself.
Stay strong my friends<3 You are not alone
