Pain Killer

She was only 25 years old and the pain of her past was already killing her. Literally. Her silence, broken the day she confessed to her attorney the years of abuse by her own brother, gave her freedom. Temporarily. Deep in silence for so many years, and despite the confession, resulted in a life she was barely able to manage. So with the assistance of tranquilizing medication, her life, now somewhat illusionary under the strapping dosage of the drugs, began to bend upward in hope.

I sat in the attorney’s office with her (last year), pale and obese with glazed-over eyes, and one week later a memo was sent to the office. Her obituary diagnosed a “heart attack.” My translation: Surrender.

The last paragraph of the memo gave a short list of family members “mourning” her death. His name was included in that short list. His name which was being mentioned that very day by a judge sentencing him to prison for the innumerable heinous crimes against her (and others), and calling him “one of the sickest monsters” he’d ever seen.

Pain kills. Not instantly, but slowly and surely. What am I doing to address this reality? If I recognize the problem (and I do) then I am responsible to do something (and I am). This is not a no-answer question to myself.

I wish I lived in a bubble and didn't see the reality. Life would be so much easier....