It may be hard to understand but I'll try to explain what I mean by my title. I might mean different things than it sounds.

I grew up with violence. It all (mostly) happened in the home that I'm still living in now. You'd think it triggers my PTSD like crazy but nothing is less true. It triggers me when I realize things are changing. When I think of the way our interior changed over time. How different our house is. It doesn't head up to the things that happen in my body. 

My body is still thinking I'm in an unsafe place. My head does as well. But I'm not in that period of my life anymore. I'm safe now.

This feeling of losing track of time made me hopeless at first. I was punching myself for feeling unsafe, for having panic attacks. (Side note: I never used words like panic attacks, trauma, PTSD, reliving trauma and such because it made me feel like an attention seeker).

I remember one time being very anxious. I thought I heard my father's car; I thought I heard him breaking into our house. I was in a panic, looked out the window and did see a suspicious car in our street. I was scared and didn't dare to open the curtain of my bedroom because what if he saw I saw him? Would he go away or would he go crazy? Besides that, I didn't want him to know how I looked at that point in life, scared he would go and search for me, to hurt me... So as I was sitting on the edge of my bed, crying, telling myself it isn't him. I needed to go to school in four hours. Feeling scared, would he follow? Would he be gone in that time? I didn't want to cause drama because I wasn't sure at all! I was scared, crying, hating myself, trying to calm myself down by minimizing. Rocking back and forward with my hands on my ears, hoping I wouldn't hear anything, not even the smallest sound. I felt lost, I didn't tell anyone … 

and you know what the best part was? After three nights, I found out it was a bird nest in our chimney-stalk. 

But if I walk into my room and I'm sitting on the edge of my bed, I'm thinking of that moment, because that moment is still inside me, that feeling too. I don't want to lose the “evidence” of that moment. 

I know a memory where my mom was in the hospital, my grandma was dying. (I was four years old at the time). I was sitting behind the couch, on the ground. My dad was sitting on the couch, watching TV, having a beer (probably his 10th). I'm not really sure where my brother was, maybe in his room? I was sitting on the ground, crying, in silent. I was sad my mom was away, I felt scared and lonely. I knew my grandma was dying. I knew my mom would be sad. I knew my dad didn't care. I was tired and scared. But I know at that point our dog came to me, and it felt like he knew what I was going through. He came laying besides me. I cuddled him while I was crying. 

It's painful that couch became a different one. It hurts to see everything is changed and the only thing left is my memory. And I read on the Internet that we are re-writing a memory every time we are remembering them. So this is not my original memory; it is a memory of 100 memories before it. Do you know what I'm saying? 

My dog passed away three years ago, one year after my dad committed suicide/overdosed. My dad dying hurt me, but my dog dying... it felt like half of my childhood, half of my memories were gone. Because every time I think of him, I thought of all the good and bad things we've gone through together. He felt like a little brother. I loved him deeply. This was the evidence of the many times I was sad, alone, scared and unsafe. 

Soon I'll be leaving this house, either because it's time for me to get my own place or we’re leaving because this house is too big for us now. The rent is getting higher and half of our home is empty because my brother is living on his own. 

But when we leave, I'll be losing my childhood, the good and the bad things. I'll be losing evidence of every single thing we went through. It will be gone. That little space on the earth will be rewritten by another family, not ever knowing what happened between these walls. My memories will fade away, slowly rewriting them every time I think about them. Slowly forgetting details, slowly forgetting the evidence of everything that made me the person I am now. 

Yesterday my bunny died. He passed away while I was with him. Slowly letting go of every memory he had. Some of his memories were with my dog, the “person” that made my life so much better when it actually was unbearable. Another energy that got released into the universe. Maybe heaven?

I guess this event made me realize how much I hate it to lose things of the past, losing evidence, losing little parts of my life.

~written by Namasté allday~