Life goes on

 

Life goes on and you see that's where I am struggling. No matter what has happened to me, no matter what was taken life just kept going.  I was dying, dying to be kept safe and  dying to hear that the things that happened to me were not my fault. I was dying and always pretended that everything was ok.  So many times I just wanted everything to stop, I wanted to go away.  I wanted the world to stop until I was able to feel better. I wanted to be noticed, I wanted someone else to stop the world and help me feel better.  I wanted the world to stop for someone other than me,  I wanted someone to stop with me.  I wanted someone to hold me and tell me they were so sorry and that they would stay until I was feeling, ok until I could find my feet again.  I wanted someone to see me and just for a time, just for a short time stop the world , help me heal, teach me that what happened to me mattered and it was awful terrible but there is so much more to this life than those things that happened. 

I was little and my world was smashed into millions and millions of tiny pieces and I was left all alone to put those pieces together. So I struggled and fought barely breathing to collect all these broken pieces and I kept  fighting, kept moving forward because that was all that I knew how to do. But with so many pieces all over the place and smashed beyond recognition, I didn't have a clue how they were supposed  to to go back together.   There was no acknowledgment or care of me, there was no acknowledgment of all the things that were taken. So a part of me knowing , no one was there I kept smiling packing those atrocities, the pieces of things I can never forget into  into boxes, of all sizes some that could hold elephants and others to hold shells,  but they were all my boxes none the same.  

And so my entire life I have just kept stacking these boxes, holding on to them for dear life as a reminder that someday I am going to be able to open them and let them go. I was going to win, opening each one feeling stronger that I made it. Someday I am going to open them and see just how much those things mattered just how much I was hurt, and just how much that they made me the person I am today.  I have been waiting ;Waiting for the day that would allow me time to open them and give what was needed to each precious part that is in each and every box. 

This life is a crazy thing and when things are taken, when thing are missed there is no way to get them back no way to make things the way that they should have been. I have to somehow find a way to live with that.  I know that the world should have stopped for me, everyone that was around me failed to do all those things that needed to be done. Those people should have stopped the world giving me everything that I needed.  They should have given me safety and rest.  They should have given me reassurance that I wasn't the one who was so awful. I wanted to be held, I wanted to be told that it was still ok to play.  I wanted to be told that I didn't have to hang on to those big adult things because those were not things that were made for my little heart to carry.  

So today I sit here with a death grip on this cargo plane filled with boxes of pain , disappointment and suffering because those boxes have to mean something. Those boxes are my life.  Those boxes are everything that has never been acknowledged or cared for.  Somehow letting go is forgetting everything that got me here,  how terribly devastating they all were and somehow that has become a badge of honor, like look at this Cargo plane and all that has happened and look at me still living, still suffering and you all did nothing.  I hold on to them as a fuck you,  all these things that you never cared about are things that I can never forget and will never let go of.  At the same time there are parts of me still back there in that time  that don't even realize we aren't there anymore.  Maybe that is another reason letting go is so very difficult, there are pieces of me still back there fighting monsters that no one can see.  

I want to go back and acknowledge each little tattered part of me in those boxes, and give that girl exactly what she needs.  I want to make everything stop until she is ready to move forward.  I want to give her time and space to catch her breath and for just once not feel like she is so behind . I want to believe that we are strong and brave and were meant for better things in this life. 

So sure life goes on, but for me there are parts and pieces of this life where I wanted everything stopped because I needed someone to see and to acknowledge my pain.  No one taught me that it was ok to move forward.  No one taught me that I was never meant to live in that violence and pain. NO one taught me that all those things that I ever needed were good and ok.  So I have learned to hold onto the pain with a death grip, because that is what I know. That is what I have known my entire little life and today as a 46 year old women I still don't have a clue how to let go, and there are pieces of me back there dying because all they want to do is let go and I don't know how to let them.