The girl who 2 years ago found herself laying scared in a hospital bed. Who had no idea what she was in for, or how scared she should actually be. She didn’t know she would be broken by them. The girl who two years later is laying in a hospital-style bed at home, even worse than before.
It wasn’t that she gave up or caved in. Wasn’t weak. She tried to fight till she shattered under their weight. Till she learned her words were not enough against the power they had. Till she lost her voice. Till the professionals made her feel she knew nothing. Questioning everything. Small and insignificant.
Experiencing it was like watching in the third person - let alone when the memories whirl around my brain and I’m back in that room. A mix of words, a mix of pain. The barrage of it and I feel like her again. Measly, imprisoned, desperate to say no but unable to, or saying it and ignored. They froze her strength. Trapped it away like she was trapped by the hospital walls.
The fight of advocacy was a thinner line than she knew. The risks of saying no were huge. But she did her best. Learnt to do it through the hardest of ways. Tried to balance on the tightrope of pleasing them and stopping harm to her. She did everything right. She does not need to feel at fault or to blame. And now two years later I am finally beginning to win for her. Finally starting to get to the other side of their looming doom.
One day, I hope those doctors realise the impact they had on us. How destructive they were to our families and us when using their misplaced power. I hope they learn how we hear their words for years and feel their actions. Hope the memories hit them like a brick and overwhelm them instead of me. I hope one day it swirls around their head instead of mine. It’s for them to feel regret, not for me.
For now, I’m rebuilding myself away from them - for her, for the me that exists now and for a future where I hope to never experience this again. Each day is for the 15 year old girl who laid scared in those hospitals. When those memories crush me under the weight, I carry on for her. I carry on for my mum who has lifted the weight off me whilst crumbling under it herself. I carry on for every person who never got the chance to escape the hospital walls.
Things may be overwhelming for me right now but I’m slowly healing. No one should ever have to, but I am.
They may have power but we are stronger than them.
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