A Silent Sacrifice

​How do you cope with knowing that there are parts of the story you will never tell? 

How do you reconcile with the loneliness that comes with forever carrying the worst moments alone, that it is best they remain unspoken til the end of your time? How do you live with the inescapable isolation of knowing these memories must die with only you, to avoid ever giving them the opportunity to be carried on by another?

How can you carry it, while still carrying on? ​

On some days, the weight of these unspoken words feels like an anchor I may never have the strength to move forward. Their impact always attached, tied around my waist tight enough to never slip. The memories will remain forever linked, chained to my being through an iron grip on both my soul and breathing body. 

I have come to terms with a future forever tainted, at least slightly, by the worst of my past. I can live with that, but I also want to know that I can live on, even if I must always live with. You may never release what has been when what has been was so unspeakably bad. I know this, but I yearn for the day I am strong enough to drag these memories even the slightest step forward. I dream of the moment my feet touch new ground, moving beyond their currently cemented footprints in old sand. I wish for the day where I can stand in a place other than the place marked by the birth of these unspoken moments. I beg for the day that I can feel these haunted headstones at least being pulled behind me, rather than forever feeling their unbearable weight anchoring my body to the same spot.

I can live with always being tethered to these memories, so long as I can live a life beyond them. However, there are days I worry that my strength will never be strong enough to pull these memorialized placeholders even an inch past their original resting place. I worry that I will be cursed to stay in this same spot forever, where these moments replay on a loop- proving over and over that time is only sequential for those capable of leaving what has been behind.

I may recover, but I will always remember.

And that is okay, I suppose. It has to be okay- living within but never fully beyond. I often tell myself that, since it is the only option left, it must be right choice. It is a thought that comforts me sometimes, and scares me at others.

So, how do you cope with forever carrying the worst things alone?

Well, you continue to hold onto that which you will never speak, and find an antidote for the symptoms and side effects that come with an unspoken disease. I speak of the fear and worthlessness that always seem to seep out from the infected spot. I speak of the shaky hands and blurry vision I cannot control when the constant hum of these memories begins to ache. I treat the symptoms and manage the side effects. I treat that which I can, and live with that which I cannot change.

There are some things that I will carry with me until the end. 

There are moments that I will never repeat in words aloud. There are recollections that I will never give the power of existing in the world if I can keep them hidden- to keep the toxins they contain from poisoning the air I share with others, which remains untainted by such horrific realities.

I will never retell the story completely.

I will keep the unspeakable parts to myself always, and this will be my greatest act of love to both myself and others- who do not deserve to live in the wake of what haunts me. It is a promise of protection, to never let something so cruel and disturbed touch life still pure, to never grant these venomous moments the opportunity to steal even the slightest semblance of innocence- a gift already so rare. 

My final act of love is never telling the entire story out loud.

My final act of love is silence.


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