Imagine...

Do you REALLY want to know how I feel right now?

I wrote this last night. I spent a good amount of the day stressed out, anxious, depressed, and exhausted. You really probably should just not read it, honestly. I think I wrote this more for me than I did for anyone else. At some point, I decided I should post it and pay-wall it. But then I thought- fuck that. I’m done hiding. I’m done not saying out loud how fucked the world is in real time. I’m done pretending that this stuff doesn’t bother me. It does.

I’m perhaps most bothered by how unbothered so many others appear to be.

Maybe that’s why I’m sharing this. Maybe if I call out the elephant in the room, others will agree and I won’t feel so alone.

Truly though, it doesn’t matter either way. If I am to stand alone against the world, so be it.

I will not stand by and say nothing and let this be the world my girls inherit.

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Imagine

Imagine being a survivor of childhood sexual abuse.
(You can’t truly imagine it, of course, if you’re not—but for the sake of discussion, try to stand there anyway.)

Imagine blacking out and repressing the worst details for years.
Decades.

Now imagine that in your 30s, the memories and emotions come roaring back with a vengeance.
Visuals.
Smells.
Sounds.
Shame.

The nightmares you’ve had your whole life—
intensified.

Because now everything is different.
Maybe even harder than when you were young.

Imagine you have small children of your own.
Imagine fearing you can’t protect them from this world.
Imagine waking up sobbing,
nightmare after nightmare after nightmare,
each one built around the same failure:
you didn’t keep them safe.

Still with me?

Okay.
Now imagine the internet bombarding you with a reality you are in no way prepared to accept.

Imagine learning that at the highest levels of power—
the truly untouchable,
those with more wealth, influence, and protection than most nations—
imagine discovering that every one of them is in on it.

Not just complicit.
Willing participants.

Imagine realizing that the worst things a grown adult can do to a child—
the worst things that were ever done to you—
pale in comparison
to what amounts to a typical Friday night for them.

Now imagine absorbing that information while you’re already dealing with—

Illness.
Sleep deprivation.
Depression.
A death in the family.
Parenting two toddlers.
Work.
PTSD.
And the VA healthcare system.
(to name just a few)

If you’ve made it this far,
and if you’ve had even a small measure of success imagining any of this—

I am so sorry.

I’ve been told I shouldn’t isolate.
Told I shouldn’t keep these things to myself.

But if imagining all of this made you feel even 1% of what I feel—

Now you understand why I’d rather isolate.

And I’m truly sorry to anyone who is upset after reading this.

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Quick note because I covered some topics on here that I ordinarily WOULD keep behind a pay-wall.

If you’re reading this and feel compelled to ask questions- the comments section is wide open and I respond to all of them. If your question is too personal- drop it in a direct message, email me (david.helgran@yahoo.com), or use whatever other channels you have to ask me.

I’m not writing this and sharing it with the world because I intend to hide from it. If you want to know more, come to ME and ask.

I am the author of my own story.

Not my critics, not other writers, not people close to me with an opinion.

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