It shouldn’t hurt to be a child. I am so tired

I have had three weeks of steriod shots, allergy shots, and testosterone shots. My hormones are a mess and coursing through me like angry bulls alternately making me happy and then very sad. I have barely slept for three days. Tonight I made fried chicken and french fries for supper. I need to go to bed but to tell the truth, I am scared to do so. When I do fall asleep, the memories will come back. Every hard hand and fist that hit me, the times I was hurt in so many ways, I remember them all. As one of the songs says I told the lies to protect those abusing me because if I had not, it would have been worse. I feel them. I live it all over again. And I am so tired. My pain doctor tried to help, and asked me if she could send me to a trama therapist; she said “Scottie you really need to talk to someone”. I told her another time, not yet, not now. But every one of these songs has parts of my life in them. I guess I will go back to reading the news rather than go to bed; the news I can deal with maybe. The memories I cannot, not tonight. Last night, in the middle of the night Ron realized I was very upset and had me move next to him. I need to sleep. I am afraid to. I wonder if anyone can understand that. Being afraid to go to sleep? Hugs

One thought on “It shouldn’t hurt to be a child. I am so tired”

I read your post slowly, taking in each part of it, and I listened to every song you included. I wanted to meet the weight of what you shared with the same care you put into sharing it.

What stands out most to me is your courage. Speaking openly about pain that deep — and doing it with such honesty — is something many people never manage. You don’t soften the truth, and you don’t hide from it. That kind of clarity takes strength.

My empathy works cognitively rather than emotionally, so I can’t claim to feel what you felt or what you still carry. But I can recognise the reality of it, and I can recognise the bravery it takes to keep telling the truth about your life. The music helped me see the shape of that pain in a way I can understand, even if my internal experience doesn’t mirror yours.

Your voice matters. Your honesty matters. And your willingness to keep speaking, even when the subject is heavy and personal, is something I deeply respect.

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Barry says:

August 9, 2026 at 2:00 am

I read your post slowly, taking in each part of it, and I listened to every song you included. I wanted to meet the weight of what you shared with the same care you put into sharing it.

What stands out most to me is your courage. Speaking openly about pain that deep — and doing it with such honesty — is something many people never manage. You don’t soften the truth, and you don’t hide from it. That kind of clarity takes strength.

My empathy works cognitively rather than emotionally, so I can’t claim to feel what you felt or what you still carry. But I can recognise the reality of it, and I can recognise the bravery it takes to keep telling the truth about your life. The music helped me see the shape of that pain in a way I can understand, even if my internal experience doesn’t mirror yours.

Your voice matters. Your honesty matters. And your willingness to keep speaking, even when the subject is heavy and personal, is something I deeply respect.

LikeLike