As the tears stream down my face and curve around my nose and fall down to the corner of my mouth I taste salt. The taste of pain. The taste of betrayal. The taste of trauma. Why couldn't I just be normal? Why wasn't I born into one of these amazing, caring and supportive families? Why did I have to run into a pedophile at 7 that didn't even have the common decency to put me out of my misery after having his way with me? Nighttime seems to be the worst, when everything is quiet, and my brain has the stage and the mic. I try to shut it down, but it just reels with memories, questions that will never be answered and short videos of things that happened. My own brain doesn't even protect me. I hear so many trauma stories where the victim's brain naturally blocks out details to protect the person... or their brain causes them to dissociate so they don't have to face what happened to them. Instead, my brain works differently. I see memories in short films. I see vivid photographic memories of hurtful moments. When my brain is in overtime, I feel like I am literally reliving every touch from my rapist, and every headbutt from my mother, every hurtful thing that my dad has screamed at me. This type of memory isn't all bad though because when it gets bad enough, I force the memory of my granny's hugs, and my brothers laugh, and I get to relive those as well. I have mastered the silent cry, and the concentrated breathing to avoid waking my husband and disturbing him from his sleep. I let the tears flow and eventually I drift off to sleep with the aftertaste of salt lingering in my mouth. My dreams have always been extremely vivid, and I normally remember every one of them. I have gotten heavily into dream interpretation as it has always interested me how our minds try to work through all the chaos in our lives by putting on a show for us in our REM sleep. I have found that a lot of the interpretations can be pretty accurate. They say people can't read in their dreams, but I can. I have always been able to. My mind and the way it is wired is unique. However, sometimes I fear that it is almost a curse and hard to enjoy because of the memories it was burdened to carry. I have done a lot of healing on this 36-year long journey, but I fear I still have a long way to go. I will continue to force the good memories and interrupt the bad. I will continue to fill my mind with good memories and hopefully one day it will be so flooded with all new and good things that when I lay my head down on my pillow there will be no more salt. There will be no more need for forced memories. There will only be the lingering taste of toothpaste followed with snores and sleep. -Feisty Mommy
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