Toxic Code

In the depths of trauma, a soul worn thin

A breaking point where pain begins

Called, “bad” so many times, a heavy load

Until the labels stick, a toxic code

Love and affection in times of despair

A twisted dance, a cycle so unfair

Seeking out bad behavior to be seen

In the shadows of a love that’s keen

A person can only take so much

Before the dam breaks, the emotions clutch

An explosion of hurt, anger, and fear

A shattered soul, longing to steer

Labeled as “bad,” it becomes a guise

A self-fulfilling prophecy in disguise

Yearning for love in moments of distress

A cycle of pain, a tangled mess

But within the chaos, a glimmer of light

A chance to break free, to make things right

To heal the wounds, to mend the heart

And seek love that’s true, a brand new start

I’ve been told something was wrong with me since I was just a child. I can remember instances of being 4 years old and my mother berating my behavior. Keep in mind, I had lived through and witnessed domestic violence, been molested by my father and it was kept a secret. Instead of telling anyone, I was consistently drug in and out of doctors to find out “What’s wrong with me.” My behaviors would spiral gradually over the course of my life. From things like masturbating in the bathroom at my elementary school in third grade, wandering the halls in that same school, not paying attention, cutting the girl’s braid in front of me for no reason, cutting everyone’s homework up for no reason in second grade, being too talkative, not listening, damaging other people’s stuff, lying, making up stories, stealing, having sex at an early age, having a large number of sexual partners before the age of 18, stealing cars, drugs, alcohol, to depressive and suicidal tendencies and unhealthy attachments in life. I can’t stress enough how bad behavior got me love and affection from my mother. I didn’t consciously know what I was doing. My answer to all of this behavior was always, “I don’t know.” But I do now, I just didn't at the time, or for most my life. My mother was extremely involved in my life when I was in trouble. It’s like a reward system just for love and affection. I get into trouble and that’s when she hugs me, tells me she loves me and that it’s going to be alight and we’re going to get through it. Even if it was just in public for show, the fakeness of her feelings felt real to me at the time. These are how unconscious behaviors can affect us without knowing. How trauma can cause our behaviors to spiral, and we cannot control them. So, why was I such a bad kid? Because I wanted my mother’s love and that’s the only time I seemed to get it. Mu subconscious mind learned that early on. It’s when she paid attention to me, when I felt like she loved me and when she got off her ass to do something about it. It’s when she was involved and concerned about me. But when those pesky achievements happened, she didn’t give two shits. She wasn’t involved, she wasn’t caring, didn’t tell me she was proud of me and loved me, etc. So, the reward system set up for love was backwards, and that’s what I learned.

#Toxic

#CPTSD

#Bad