Unspeakable Pain

It's hard to write about something there aren't words for. A fellow survivor of child abuse said to me, "Sometimes the pain is so great that it doesn't go from in here (from my heart) to out there. it doesn't come out of your mouth in words." This friend (thanks, Ron!) really got my experience. I have been sitting with the pain I felt about being enslaved by my parents and it is unspeakable. Unimaginable. And infuriating.

Child trafficking is called modern day slavery for a reason. It is slavery. Slaves are beaten, raped, tortured, tied up, kept in small quarters, given to other people to use and abuse...they are treated like property. Monitored and made sure they don't run away. Their lives are threatened. They are separated from relatives and loved ones, not allowed to make significant relationships with others. They are not allowed to keep (m)any possessions. They are isolated, seen as the bottom rung of society. They are treated as inhuman. They must create code languages to speak with one another. Their voices and song are shunned. Their identities and people are erased. It's dangerous for any one to ally with a slave and help them escape. It's dangerous for a slave to escape. The slave is seen as a criminal when s/he escapes but the master/perpetrator is not seen as a criminal.

I was a child. I was enslaved. I was a prisoner. My parents and community (local and global) sanctioned my slavery.

The worst part was that they kept me from my SELF - my freedom, my autonomy. They kept me from knowing my own humanity. It's like being separated from your best friend, but worse. Your soul is taken hostage and you are made to watch other people torture it. You are forced to pretend the torture isn't happening, even pretend that you like it, tell yourself you deserve it. And you fight silently, quietly, secretly, until you can reclaim your soul.

And when you reclaim it, it's so battered, beaten, shriveled up that your hands can't even try to be gentle enough. Every time you touch your soul, you find bruises everywhere, on all sides and crevices. And as you heal, you realize just how much pain there is stored - you see just how deep the pain goes and you can't help but weep for days.

Sometimes others can hold you. Sometimes it hurts too much. Sometimes you want to cry on your own while others just sit and witness. And sometimes, your soul hides again, only to realize that the pain of silence is worse than the pain of healing. The pain of silence isn't worth it. The pain of healing is a reclamation of pain from the past - pain that is stolen, denied, and even enjoyed by the abuser. You realize, that it is YOUR pain, and you want it back. The pain of healing is relief, sorrow, disappointment, sadness, rage, and overwhelming grief. For so much is lost to you, and you will never get it back. You can only live on.