Thank you for sharing your personal take on this, especially in light of your own story and on how it has been for you to work on these traumatic experiences. Trauma healing is such a long, exhausting road to walk on. The amount of self-awareness and understanding that you convey in your comment here are really such a strong expression of how many steps you’ve been taking on this very path towards processing what happened to you. I know it may seem at first like “just” commenting on a music video and relating with personal experiences, but I wanted first to really acknowledge and emphasize the work you’ve been doing to get to the point of naming your traumas and talking about it like here. From someone who’s been on a similar journey, I know how lonely that can be, and how life consuming it is especially on darkest days to face the reality of having known repeated abuse and utmost fear as a child.
The way you depict grief especially resonates so very much with me, because that’s the word that has been sticking the most to my own skin when it comes to processing early childhood trauma. The grief of all what could (or even should) have been, the grief of the illusion of a family that we were holding on to for the sake of survival, the grief of all the opportunities missed because of the anxiety/depression/trauma responses that followed for years and years… the grief of a life that could have been so very different, and the impression of having lost a massive amount of time to nothing but tears. It definitely feels like a waste, but a heavy, overly-present waste - not the kind that leaves you empty. It’s interesting to see it now through this haunted house depicted in the video, especially when it feels like this image could be embodied litterally/physically with the home I grew up in.
Over time, the haunted house becomes this lingering shadow that you know so very well and keeps hurting you, sometimes silently, sometimes more loudly, but surely takes on your energy and hope little by little. It’s a dark, uneasing place as much as traumatic memories and emotional flashbacks are. It’s this damaging place that seems to stick no matter what, one full of shame and hatred… but also one that feels comforting at times. Because it’s a place where at least you get to choose your pain, not to suffer one that is inflicted by others, and even less by people who should have been trustworthy. It’s the reversal of control from being taken away your safety and dignity, to becoming the very own agent of your suffering and regain, at least, some sense of ownership.
For me the haunting house is definitely this place I am pushed back into, forcefully some days, but also a place that I feel deeply connected with at other times, as if I can almost feel safe in. It’s a strange paradox when what’s unhealthy is what feels familiar, therefore “safe” in a kind of inadequate way. Although it’s life-saving to know now where the line is, and when to draw it, so you don’t end up eaten alive by this urge towards self-destruction either. It’s present, but it leaves room to feel things from the heart, and to know with the mind what is fair or not - and self-inflicted pain, on top of what has already been endured, is not something that one would ever deserve to know.
You survived through it all, and you are here today using your voice like a new power. I know it usually feels like being strong isn’t something wanted when it comes to trauma healing, but rest assured that the strength you’ve developped and shared through your journey are YOURS. The fruit of your willingness, of your heart, of this unique voice that you now get to share, not within the haunted house, but in a house that you own and have been building from your own sweat, tears, and the recognition of your worth. You are standing still, and that may be the most beautiful way to chase the ghosts away. Hold fast, friend.