The following is graphic. Reader discretion advise.
She wanders around in a state of confusion. Nothing was right anymore except her love of her husband and kitties. But everything else is wrong and like she is in the twilight zone and she can’t get out.
Her life has never been easy. Abuse, fighting to prove people wrong, fighting for children and the oppressed. She doesn’t always get it right and she has had to grow and change. But she is. But this fight is so out of her control and she is so tired of it. How do you fight something that could literally kill her and her husband? Yet, it is killing her because she doesn’t know how to accept that her life that she worked so hard for is gone. She refuses to believe it but there’s no way out of this one.
People don’t understand and they are acting like it’s no big deal. Narcissistic president and his minions have ruined the trust for the medical professionals and even threaten them. Yet, people are still in love with this regime. But even the people who once fought to save lives have caved in to the public and their own exhaustion of the pandemic. Removing the mitigations that helps save lives.
She finds herself trying to hope that maybe this shot will be the one that really prevents the virus from invading people only to keep hearing the people who are up to date with the shots still get it. The news always reports that the people have mild symptoms. What are mild symptoms anyway? Downplaying it all still.
Or is her fear unfounded? She usually gets really sick when she gets the flu or something upper respiratory. And her body is changing. Spasms she never used to have, she now has. More chronic pain too.
She’s never pitied herself for her disability. It’s the way it is. But being left out has been a problem for her. She can’t just jump up and get together with her friends. She struggled with depression in high school from not being able to be a typical teenager. Plus the ongoing abuse and dysfunctional family.
Then there’s all the loss. Some expected as nobody lives forever and others unexpected due to abuse. Sometimes she quietly, not alway though, rages at them, the abusers, thinking horrible things that are not even her but she wants people who have inflicted so much pain on her and her husband or on innocent people to feel at least some of that pain. Does karma even work?
Other times, with the people who have directly hurt her, she would give annnnyyyythiiing to repair the relationship. She fights herself blaming herself for what she did to contribute to everything falling apart.
“Why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut?” “Why did she react?” “What did she do to end up here?”
She is constantly worried about her being narcissistic too. But then she, or someone, reminds her that she didn’t do anything wrong. But she is still a “fixer.” Again, like the virus, she can’t fix these relationships and that makes her feel even worse and stuck.
She finds it hard to relax but she has moments of pure peace and beauty. She tries to keep them going. But now she is fighting for the one thing that really helps her deal with life and trauma and it’s now so hard.
A cosmic place that was so beautiful and full of love, or so she thought, was savagely ripped away from her and her husband and she can’t save it. She tried but nothing she said is right to them. Again, she fell for narcissism and, yet, she is so desperate to go back. Desperate for the wonderful smells, sights, sensations, laughter, and love. Now an unfinished tattoo reminds her of that constantly. She always thinks about them and other people who were supposed to love her forever. Her heart is so ripped up more than she ever thought possible.
And even though she tries not to think about it, she knows more loss is coming and she doesn’t know how she is going to bear it.
She tries to think about things she’s grateful for but it doesn’t erase that pain anymore. She sees no way out except for nature, natural meds, and games. This wasn’t supposed to be her life. She craves the release and accomplishment of getting tattooed. They give her power and makes her feel pretty. If people are going to stare at her, why not give everyone something to look at? She loves looking at her tattoos but she needs the release regularly and losing that cosmic place and everyone acting like this virus is over has made it so hard to get something so fucking vital for her emotional well-being.
She is so trapped. More than normal and she doesn’t know when it will be done. She is trying to keep going but she is so fucking exhausted. Waking up to the same thing over and over again feels again like she is in the twilight zone. Maybe she is. And maybe in a parallel universe or dimension she is living a totally different life and that is comforting for some strange reason since she is trapped in here until whoever deems that it is time to set her free. Maybe she can meet her other selves if it works that way when she is set free from her current meat sack. Yet, she is so afraid of the process of leaving this dimension. She wishes she remembered life before birth. We can’t just come into existence at conception but she doesn’t believe that we choose where we go because she would have picked a wonderful family who was healthy and she still would have chosen Grandpa and her husband and her animals. But the cp and abuse and alcoholism and all the dysfunction and narcissism would not have been chosen. And babies who died before birth for all reasons wouldn’t choose that.
She doesn’t know how to keep going but she is. She tries but it hurts so bad sometimes. She misses the days when life was easier and sweeter. Will it ever come back to her again? At least for a while? Please??
The Trapped Butterfly 