My pain doesn’t feel big enough.

Doubt hasn’t just crept in, it’s made a grand entrance and moved in. Comfortable in its usual surroundings of my self hatred.

Yes. I feel good here. Doubt says, smiling and stretching out, ready for a long visit.

Tonight, I’m sitting on the sofa in my pyjamas and I’m worried that the trauma I’ve been through in my life isn’t important enough to write a memoir about.

It’s amazing what a smile can hide.

My pain…doesn’t feel big enough.

Anne befriended me, then stole my identity, my money and my self-belief. She took me for 30 grand while I was a vulnerable patient in hospital…but it doesn’t feel like it’s enough.

Gavin imprisoned me for 3 long years. But he never hit me. He didn’t have to. One word from him, and I’d tremble in fear. After a while, he stopped locking me in. I’d stare at that unlocked door for hours. All I had to do was push it open.

Freedom was one door push away.

Just one push.

But I didn’t leave him.

Invisible chains held me steadfast so that I was always right where he left me when Gavin came home from “work”.

He starved me. He overfed me. He physically used me in ways I still don’t have the words to describe… but he never hit me.

So it doesn’t feel big enough to warrant a chapter. My 3 years of longing to take one clean breath without Gavin first giving permission doesn’t feel big enough.

I have no bruises. No scars. No pictures of an almost-swollen-shut eye. No police reports. Nothing on record.

Everything Gavin did to me was on the inside. Deep down where no evidence is left.

So it starts to feel unreal to me.

If I don’t buy it, how is anyone else going to be convinced?

I remember the deep yearning I’ve had all my life to belong to my biological family.

Mom and Dad would be playing with Jay, fussing over him and exclaiming at his every sound and movement while I stood blurred in the background, whispering, “I exist too. Please see me. ” A dark girl on the edges of Jay’s story. I was a mere extra in the movie of Jay’s glorious life; easily swapped out for a cardboard tree.

A nothing.

Yet that doesn’t feel big enough to write about. Who is going to want to read about that?

I read these incredible stories all over medium about real suffering. Pain that is palpable. Trauma that weaves itself into the fibres of a well told story and leaves the reader breathless, touched, reached.

My stories aren’t like that.

13 responses to “My pain doesn’t feel big enough.”

  1. Just because it is yours doesn’t mean it’s not real. You are real. What you went through (and continue to go through) is real. The fact that you survived all of that is beyond amazing! There might be someone out there that can learn from what you went through. Your story might give them the courage to walk out that door. 🦋

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you, Jen. So often I feel as if I’m speaking out into nothing so hearing back from someone I care about…it changes everything. So thankful for your kind heart ❤️

      Liked by 2 people

      1. You are so much better than you think! Big hugs and puppy kisses!😘❤️🐾

        Liked by 1 person

      2. And you are welcome☺️

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Your only duty is to tell *your* story and tell it well. It will resonate with some people and others won’t care at all (or even judge you). I wrote a generally well received memoir with only moderate trauma (physical), mental illness, substance abuse, etc. Tons of people have approached me to tell me how they related to what I wrote. Just write it. In my life, there have been few moments as exciting as when *my book* arrived in the mail. Give yourself that experience. And stop comparing yourself. I don’t care who you are, you will always find someone better.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you so much, Jeff. I really needed that encouragement. Your Memoir sounds AMAZING and I can imagine the joy of you holding your book in your hands – that must have been an incredible experience ❤️ I read somewhere that “comparison is the thief of joy” and it really is. Thank you for the reminder to not compare, it rarely ends up making me feel better. Sending you big hugs 🫂 xoxo


  3. I agree with Jeff, in regards to writing. Don’t look for the “it” factor. Just write from the heart, bound to resonate with someone. Be that person’s voice or strength.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I love that, Matt – to write from the heart. That’s basically what my entire blog is; my heart on the internet. Thank you for your encouragement when I was feeling especially low, I really appreciate your kindness ❤️

      Liked by 1 person

  4. It’s definitely important…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you so much, Simon. That means a lot. I wrote this from a place of fear and vulnerability so your kind comment has lifted my spirits xxxx

      Liked by 1 person

      1. That stepping out takes courage, kit than I have so big respect to you xx

        Liked by 1 person

  5. hey there, I too have wondered why I am being a wuss about what I am going through when so many others have gone through events that are much worse. What you describe sounds so much more traumatic than what I have dealt with in my life. And yet, my pain is very real, same as yours. Is mine or others more traumatic, or just different? I say this because there will always be someone that we can find that has it worse as a way of justifying why we are making too big a deal out of what we are working through. Trying to justify why we should just suck it up. Your pain is big enough my friend, because it is yours. Please do not minimize that. That is all that matters, to you. Huge hugs to you.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I really needed this, Tommy. I think a lot of us do. We all seem to compare with others and come up short. This is an important lesson to honour our own pain. Thank you, my friend. Big hug 🫂 xoxo


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