Hazy

Hi there!

I started therapy earlier this year to help me untangle and understand the trauma I've been through due to bad medical care. It's going well so far, and maybe I'll go more into it at a later time, but not tonight. Alongside the chats with my therapist, I've also done some reflecting and thinking alone. To be honest I've tried my hardest not to think much about what we're talking through, because it's just too difficult. There is so much to unpack, and so many years of me supressing everything, that I have a hard time not spiraling when the thoughts start flooding. 

So I've been writing. A lot! Writing has always been the one way I work through things, and make sense of how my brain processes things. It was my savior back then, when this trauma was formed. And it's been my rock this time around, when I'm trying to make sense of it all. Trying to accept what happened then, how it changed me, how it hurt me, and how to live on. It's hard, so, so hard. I've only been able to go through things in small burst by myself. So I've written a lot of poems!

Most of them aren't that great, at least not right away. But then they aren't written for others. They are for me. I like to say I word vomited onto the page, as the words just come pouring out. Sometimes they are nicely structured, and follow a pattern all the way through. Most of them however start at one place, take several turns and many loop-de-loops until they end somewhere completely different.

I've titled this one 'Hazy'. It's about how my memory has worsened due to the trauma, and how it feels like parts of my past has been obscured by fog.

A large tree, completely bare, standing by a road. It's surrounded completely with a thick, white fog. The large trunk, and the plentiful, thin, branches slightly obscured by the fog.

Hazy

So much of my past

and too many memories

have been fogged over

all due to trauma

So many things from my childhood

so many moments

all cloudy, distorted, hazy

What do you do

when the part of your brain

that keeps you memories safe

your past safe

starts filling with mist?

A fog so thick

that it blurs the words

clouds the faces

distorts the memories

of your lived life?

When the fog finally clears

I never know what part has been lost

Which memory

I’ll never remember the same again

The sun comes back

my life goes on...

But my brain is always hazy

and the memories are never the same again.

-Anja