You Get to Be a Person
The wait for law enforcement to arrive when you need them feels like an eternity. The scene felt like one of those where the main character can look around but everything else is frozen. My father was charging at me, a 6’4” 250-pound man versus a 19-year-old girl. His rage spilled out of his face and body and was directed squarely at me. Years of untreated trauma poured out of his soul and covered me in darkness. At some point, he grabbed and injured my wrist while I was trying to flee. My father distanced himself at just the right speed when deputies arrived. He made sure to give me one last rage-filled glare before turning around with a smile. He was a master at manipulation. I remember looking on with disdain as he charmingly spoke to the deputies. He could switch from monster to human in a flash, leaving you questioning your own sanity. I was an anxious, blubbering, mess when deputies spoke to me. In other words, a normal trauma-activated human. They belitt...
