The Sandbox Writing Challenge 2018 — Exercise 17

This week we’re going to get a little serious again. We all go through tough times in our lives. Some more so than others. Put your thinking caps on and sort through your experiences, then tell us…

What is one of the worst emotional storms you’ve
weathered in your life?

Life is filled with storms
There are periods when it 
as if the storms
 will never end

I feel as if I must have been
evil in a previous life
to have been the recipient of
so much flooding and downed trees

I wrote a brief list with all
the gory details and decided
my emotional turmoil has
been flowing steadily
throughout forty-seven years
(as if I need to build more character)

I’m the unhappy beneficiary
of rain in what should be desert

As a personal exorcise
I couldn’t just choose one
trauma that was worse
than all the rest

These are excerpts from the most depressing post I won’t publish:

She said that they tried
staying together for us kids.
I told her, “Please don’t.
Put us out of our misery.
Get divorced.”

1978 Falling down the basement stairs
breaking my tailbone being
interrogated by blank faces
in the emergency room
without my parents
asking who pushed me
they didn’t believe me
I was 8 maybe

1984 A garbage truck with two guys inside
were catcalling me a skinny fourteen
year old girl in bermuda print shorts
One guy opened his door and came after me
I ran

1991 I met a guy 
who heard me say
I was looking for work
I had seen him in the Cité U dorm
Sure I was naive
a massage is a massage in my head
A massage in his head included
a locked door and nudity
I yelled at him in English
he pretended to not understand
I switched to French

2011 Eldest Surly Reverie was repeatedly stabbing an
xacto blade into the surface of his desk
it was seven thirty on a Saturday morning
The therapist had suggested I never stay
at home alone with my increasingly volatile
teenager who had started running around
the neighborhood screaming while waving
a wooden five foot sword. I tried waking him up
to go to the studio with his father
(who conveniently left half an hour prior)
What I remember now are flashbacks:
He started swinging at me from his bed
his eyes were blank not like my happy child
I grappled with him and grabbed him by the hair
to stop the punching his eyes cleared and
he said, “mommy it hurts”
so I let him go next he was kicking me in my back
quoting lyrics from The band Disturbed,
“Never stick your hand in my face again b%$^#
F@#$ you…You stupid sadistic abusive f!@#$^& w@#$%
How would you like to see how it feels mommy?”
Then he proceeded to punch me in the face
five times until I
started shrieking
He stopped and asked me, “what’s wrong?”
My Child came in and I screamed ‘call 911’…

2011 I realized after fourteen 
of marriage that my husband
 loved me
for my organizational
 and writing skills
I told him he should have hired a secretary
Then he proceeded to destroy my life

2014 They say time slows down during trauma
I was modeling for an artist in her
retirement home lobby Girlie was happily
sitting in a stroller facing me when I noticed
her foot started to rhythmically twitch
her left arm also her stare was blank
This was her first of four seizures over the next two months
We opted for two years of anti seizure medication
Girlie has not had a seizure since 
September of 2014
Her epilepsy medication was stopped
 in August of 2016…

2018 I am in the process of 
the demise of a
failed relationship 
with Girlie’s father
Celibacy is looking good these days

I had a really hard time posting this. This week has been way too long.
I cried at therapy today. So stressful. Gotta go pick up My Child from school. Time to pack it all in and seal it with duct tape.

For now


5 thoughts on “A response, really depressing

  1. Oh my girl… So candid and brave of you to let others have such an intimate peek inside your life. I can’t even imagine, E, what any of that felt like. But mark my words! One day your kids are going to look back on this and think you’re their hero… ❤ {{{E}}} ❤


  2. the porter punch my ticket as he called my stop yet fast asleep… trauma train i forget to get off
    somehow there’s a temptation to be a passage the taste of adrenaline
    as my coffee in the morning fascination with cardboard the boxcar came later… I always knew this boxcar would be my home

    Liked by 1 person

Any thoughts on the above post are appreciated! Otherwise, I think I must be living under a rock.

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