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Getting Over It - Writers Nook

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Being afraid to go back home where I knew everyone from my extended families to the people I grew up with in elementary school, seemed very horrifying. I was cleaning my room and as I finished, I paused. On the edge of my bed I leaned forward to catch myself from falling and sit calmly. The memories ran through my mind of what I had lived through back in Arizona. I felt a gloomy, dreary shadow cooling over my skin as I realized that going home can never happen.
I remembered the days I use to feel like I couldn’t breathe, but there wouldn’t be heavy object over me that caused my short of breath. The pressure to do what I never wanted to do again haunted me every time I thought about going home and living in the same house as I did as a child. My body ached at the thought of moving back into the same place where I felt very alone, very depressed, and very much dead inside.
I slowly closed my hand to tightly grab hold of the edge of the bed and embraced the pain I knew that was bottled up inside. I had to let go of the pain, release, and move on, in matter to come to terms with my feeling.
All at once, I cried, shouted, and held tight to the bed as I released what I was ashamed of showing in front of other people, my emotion and my pain. Letting go of my grab I fell to the floor and I landed on my knees, still screaming at a high-pitch. The cold tears ran down the side of my cheeks and I was burned up from the madness inside.
The memories came into play and I saw my life flashing before my eyes. I wrapped my arms around my stomach thinking the curl-position was safe. My crying hadn’t stopped and I felt all the pain I endured as a child when I lived with my mother.
I was left at home a lot with my two brothers and one sister, all of whom were younger than me at the time. My mother’s reckless behavior as a drunk played throughout the years, over and over and over. Many times, as children too young to understand anything, I saw my mother decide to do things and these doing’s made it clear what my mother really cared about. We were left out of the picture all the time yet most of the time, we were better off at home than cruising around with her. She searched for a drink to make the pain go away when the opportunity called to open. When she was sobered enough to tell us anything, she wouldn’t explain her actions of dwelling on the past.
There were more events in my life that took place. A lot caused me to go into this dreary episode, my desperation to escape the past I had yet to forget or get over. After what felt like a long time of crying and feeling aches, I started to calm down and relax because the worst was over. My gasping at the end had slowed down and I felt a lot better. I wiped the tears that streamed down my face and sighed for relief. I had felt the pain and released it all to get out of my indignity.
I Inhaled.
Then, I Exhaled.
My mind was cleared like it used to feel when I’d lay out under the sun in the summer with nothing and nobody for miles. When I ran away for hours to calm down or escape with myself from crying in front of others, I’d go to this deserted place to find my own inner peace and collect myself before I went home that day. I wasn’t home, but I escape my past like I tried to all those years ago. The years I’ve waited to scream and cry, had finally happened far from home.
Writer’s note: It feels good to write about these things. This event hasn’t happened yet. I just feel better that I wrote it because my emotion now is relief. Thank you for reading.


Very vivid and articulate have you been to an ACA (Adult children of Alcoholics) meeting, I've been going for years, it has helped me.


Wow Very Touching, its always good to get your emotions out.

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