How Does Time Heal?

I’ve been told, “Time heals all,” but does it really? How many years does it take to heal a completely shattered being? When every inch of your soul has been pulverize into dusty ground? Because, for me, it’s been eight long years and that pain still hurts. It still creeps up through my feet, puts my heart into a chokehold, then drags it to darkest depths of hurt. As I type this, I’m laying in bed feeling suffocated by past events – past events I was told would “heal with time”. Yet, I’m still here wondering how much longer I have to suffer before I’m considered heal or is it possible I’ll never be “healed”?

I’ve been to therapy. I’ve been taking my prescribed medication. I swear I’m using the tools I’ve been given to the best of my ability to help heal my hurt, but I still f***ing hurt. I hurt just as bad as – if not even worse than – the moment I was first hurt. From the first time that boy coerced me into letting him inside me, to the time a family member invited himself to touch my most intimate parts, to the time that ended with my “boyfriend” getting charged with domestic violence – it all f***ing hurts. It hurts so bad. I wish I could put my hurt into words, but there are no words to describe the pain I feel. It hurts physically and emotionally. It drains me of any ounce of happiness that tries to shine through.

So, again, does time heal all? Does it really? Does it heal or does it just make it (relatively) easier to live with? I do have to admit, the soul-suffocating pain doesn’t come as often as it used to the first few years after the string of unfortunate events occurred. By no means would I considered that “healed”, though. The pain may come less often, but the pain just builds up and hits me that much harder. My pain was once constant, yet I was able to persist through my day. Now, my pain comes maybe once a week or every other week, but it leaves me cooped up in bed unable to face my day. Does that sound “healed” to you? Because to me, it seems my pain has only evolved into a new form.

Maybe I haven’t had “enough” time yet.

Maybe one day I’ll feel healed.

But maybe.

Maybe I won’t.

Maybe I’ll always be damaged.