Cotton Candy & Whimsical Things
My childhood, bleak as it was, had moments of clarity through fun. My brother and I played in the woods for hours. When the rain came, we’d run outside with our bare feet to dance and be silly. I can still feel the wet clay dirt between my toes as we wadded through mud puddles until our feet hurt.
I’m not the best at having fun, I can be clear on that. When I do, I feel guilty.
Why do I feel guilty?
I feel guilty for my sadness. I feel guilty for being happy. I feel guilty for breathing when a dead lady lays beneath the earth.
I guess I feel guilty a lot.
Isn’t that the sign of abuse? It’s imprinted in our souls and burdens our minds.
I need to wash that guilt out of my hair! And, return to play.
But, how do you play?
Everything is controlled in homes of abuse. Everything — even laughter.
I had fun with a friend last night and I woke up feeling — G U I L T Y! We stayed up until 3 am. We sang. We laughed. We cried.
I’m not going to be feeling guilty for this one! It was a blast.
Remember to have fun!
Originally published at http://prisonerbynocrimeofmyown.com on September 15, 2021.