twisted
you figured the word ‘twist’ carried a sense of being manipulated.
that’s what happened to you.
you puzzled this morning over a feeling of ‘sad resignation’ you had - the one that hesitates you, stops you from living your life.
no. that didn’t feel exactly right - you needed the right word.
driving to the big town, you reflected for an hour on the feeling - not so much the naming of the feeling, but how you felt this way.
co-regulation. or a lack of it. the fact that, as a child, you had no outlet to express your emotions, to feel safe. life was constant vigilance - a struggle for agency.
‘we’ll get into a routine soon,’ she said every second day as your schizophrenic brother roamed the halls at night, moaned to himself while you tried to read, hit you for no reason, ranted in front of your friends.
back to the road, as you slowed down to enter the outskirts of town, you realized that you’d been used.
you groaned from the pain in your chest, your eyes trying to push closed. your body convulsed - you dry retched. you almost had to pull over.
but that was it - realization. followed by release and relief. you had been twisted - looking it up later, you found the root was to divide into two.
the person you are was exploited by those who should never have - they split you, leaving a part of you trained to ‘understand,’ to excuse, to believe lies so they didn’t have to take responsibility.
that other part has stayed naive, convinced that if you remain caring and understanding, good things will come.
they are lied to.
no more. you are not water to be parted. you are the strength and calm of water made ice.