Content note: trauma / emotional abuse, panic, breakups, daddy dom/little girl language
They say memories live in our muscles and bones, stored up like the debris of life that accumulates in your closet. “The body keeps the score.” The body notices, feels, and remembers.
Last night around midnight, I began crying inconsolably, shoulders shaking, breath trembling, pillow thoroughly soaked. Looping in my head was a chorus of depression voices: “You’re garbage.” “Your partner’s going to leave you and then you’ll be alone forever.” “You don’t deserve love or happiness.” “What if you fuck it all up?”