ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel

One of Many Nights

Updated on August 24, 2012

“One of Many Nights”

by Monica Ortega

It’s so unfortunate to be a little girl at 5 years of age and have such consternation and paranoia lurking within my heart, mind, and soul. Having, no sublime memories of a conscience that would carry any hope, peace or encouragement that would bring some type of luminous symmetry. Walking the halls like a ghost in a broken home stood the silhouette of a severely abused child.

To relay and manifest the tremulous hindrance that would soon synchronize a very blurred and paralyzing fear that would re – calibrate my emotional state of mind with horrific sexual, verbal, and physically torturous, unwanted pain. Wanting so much to hide and run away. Even, to this day being an adult the pain and horror can remain though my abuser is gone, the nightmares still remain.

It would be easier if the past were an arm or a leg at least that could be all cut away. But the matters of the heart, soul and mind must be dealt with a much deeper type of healing. No, longer could I ignore it or pretend it did not exist because then there would be no healing for the tragic life a little girl like me should not have had to live. Where were you when I cried out for help? I could only hear my echoing cries for help only to see for eleven years how dead I was inside. No one ever came to take away the pain. Now, my abusers are dead and gone leaving me to pick up the pieces of this fragile broken heart.

Now an adult I sit here alone trying every day to take one step at a time picking up the pieces that cannot be cut away, each of those pieces is a broken part of me that can only be fixed by healing mentally. Realizing the courage I must build from within and learn how to trust someone enough to help put them back together again. Many of us have things we rely upon to make life easier, like a car, a house, a computer and a job to pay the bills and the food we eat. With the economy today I know that I can truly say that many of us feel scared and broken inside because you may have lost everything that you’ve work so hard to earn.

Now try and see, I was born into a broken family economy were my innocence was taken and the only thing I needed was a life with parents to make it easier. Instead I was given the shock of my life broken and beaten being thrown to the ground sexually violated. My economy and foundation of living a good life as a child, was instead broken, my whole being heart, mind and soul…

Never given the chance to learn how to grow instead I was busy learning how to survive one of those many days and nights. Now I am left building a new economy of faith, building a new foundation that cannot be taken from me. See, I am the new builder trying every day to mend those broken pieces, giving them healing time. Vigilance can no longer be vague, even though it’s the hardest damn thing I have ever had to do. Suicide and death is not freedom from pain, suicide and death is just leaving this place for the new generation of loved ones we have left behind to not only finish picking up the pieces we left. Now, they must build a new economy, picking up each of those broken pieces that are now a piece of them. Knowing, every day they will look into a mirror feeling so sad and incomplete because the bigger piece, the part of them is now missing and can never be replaced, is because we took a part of them that balanced out their life. Now, the loved ones left behind will never forget that hole of pain that we gave up on life, and leaving an impression that we also, gave up on them…Suicide, can be a harsh cycle that many times can leave a stigma in the minds of others who loved you to repeat this action. How sad, just think most people commit suicide because they feel no one cares about them or that no one loves them. Many others commit suicide because they cannot bare the victimization and the pain of being hurt by someone that they thought should have loved them. Instead, for some sad reason they became the abuser, One of Many Nights…


Monica Ortega


Submit a Comment

No comments yet.