The above came out of my pain like about two years ago. I really do not want to remember exactly the date. I stopped counting long ago; the days since the day it all ended. People often, especially where I work, tell me how young I am and that I have a good life with no “attachments”: marriage and children. They all tell me the same thing, enjoy life; you are young, take advantage, etc. Ha. If only they knew. Despite I am young (compared to them because I’m getting older by the second) without “attachments” as they say, I know what pain is, pain from life, and pain in the soul. No, not necessarily falling for a married man, but all, all of it that came after that. To summarize it: I fell in love with him when I naively only wanted to “have fun”, take a risk, and to see what it is to be involved with a married man. I lost control. I lost myself. I lost friends, got distant from my family, lost jobs, got insecure, became another person: possessive, obsessive, stupid, and crazy, and unrecognizable by self. He cheated on me with someone else. I should have known, right? He lied to me. The pain after the “breakup” was worst. I became worst. I was treated for depression and an intervention was needed. It took a whole year to get my life stable.
But I have trouble trusting people, especially men. After him, I used men and broke some hearts. I became like a slut, I guess. And it had to be stopped one way or another. I got pregnant by a guy that was only supposed to be my “fuck buddy” (that is how I only saw him). I had an abortion. I never looked back on the decision I made. I didn’t cried or had anything to say. But my body is not the same. My stomach is a constant reminder of what I did. I am slender and despite how much weight I can lose or how much I exercise, my body is not the same. It can be easily overlooked by others but I know what I see. No one knows and no one can tell. It’s been a year since the abortion. And after a year, it is barely hitting me. A month ago, for the first time, I cried for what I did, realizing I killed MY BABY! It was mine, not his like I always saw it.
I try to analyze everything to help me understand the decisions I made. For example, I had anger for what the married man did to me; therefore, I wanted men to pay so I played with their emotions. Etc. Etc. I came up with so many that my head is exhausted. But you see, no one else has fault, I needed excuses and reasons to explain my OWN actions. I do not voice it out to anyone; I myself only know the truth of my actions. In the end, it was me, all me and only me. Everyone has choices in life. There are no such things as mistakes or regrets: either you do something or you don’t. I now know that.
I’m afraid I can’t love or be loved again. I’m afraid I wasted my youth. I’m afraid I’ll get old, unwanted, and alone. A scar will always be found in the core of my soul, the black wound will be a constant reminder of what I did.
25, Female, Texas
The Dark Hole
When I think about it, I really do not know how I let myself fall into it.
The "Trap"- which I call it or label,
to make me feel a little ease that I had no power of my own.
I fell into the depths of a hole, unwillingly, so I say,
that I somehow could not get out of, and even now,
I fight the unwelcome thoughts that will make me fall again.
The dark hole I speak of is a married man.
" The Scar "
mix media on wood
painting 30" in. x 41" in. framed