Oh if only…

I’m typing this and it’s blurry. I forgot to mention in my recent update that I’m seeing blurry these days, with double vision on other days. I have an appointment with an ophthalmologist the first Wednesday of April. I was told it would get better. I haven’t seen that yet.

What will I see when I can’t see anymore? What will happen when I can’t see to work anymore? What if these fucked up things that “I remember” are all that I am able to see, in my head? What if I replay them over and over, and over? I think I need slapping right about now. Why would I even think like that? What if I cause it to happen by thinking about it? I feel hysterical.

Okay, I’ll switch gears for a bit, get my shit together. Oh if only.

So often when I think of the past, I think of Marsha Sadler. I’m not sure how it’s spelled, either name to be sure but I do know that was her name. She was a little girl, a few years older than I was, who for some reason unclear to me, spent some afternoons at the house I was raised in; I’m going to guess that the Old Lady baby sat her for a short period of time. I remember she was pretty and wore dresses. I’ve tried dozens of times to find her over the years. I want to know if Uncle Kenneth molested her too. Was that why she stopped being at our house in the afternoons? I don’t remember any controversy but to be fair, I was only six and almost 100% of the time was told to leave the house if adults were talking. You had to be a super spy to learn anything good. Why do I even want to know? I have no clue. It will be just an ordinary day and Marsha Sadler will pop into my head.

I’m fucked up, huh? I admit I believe it’s true. But thoughts are thoughts and I can’t stop them. Oh if only.

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4 thoughts on “Oh if only…

  1. Maybe if you found her, and knew if she experienced the same, your memories would feel validated? I don’t think it’s fucked up. I think it’s normal. My story gas to do with a neighbor boy. My sister was there but doesn’t remember being in the treehouse when he asked us to show him our parts. But she dies remember the babysitting cousin who molested her while I was nearby, too young to know anything. You are not alone, my dear.

    • I would prefer to know that she was not molested, that the crimes stayed within our household. Bonnie and Kenny (children they adopted) were both still there as well and molested me too so I’m really hoping that Marsha escaped all three. Oh Shameful Secrets, I know thee well.

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