So hard to Undersrand

 

I wish there was an easier way to understand parts and pieces of me. So much of the time I feel crazy. I feel less than and like I am always 20 steps behind everyone else.   I can so easily put different aspects of myself in a box. For me that is little Callahan, the 5-year-old part of me.  There is me, the 48-year-old who struggles to do all things and keep everything in this life running and taken care of.  Then there is the thirteen-year-old part of me that I have lovingly called Spunky. It not multiple personalities, I am not different people.  Just the abuse was hellish, and I had to do something to make sense of it all in my little life.  My life was unimaginable and yet I kept kindness and was able to see and appreciate the little life things around me. The birds, the flowers, the breeze in the branches.  In noticing the little things and keeping kind I was able to survive. It was purely a way to see the good things that wouldn't hurt me, and it helped me live another day. I understand why I did them. I understand that I was under an enormous amount of stress and trauma took its toll.  As a 48-year-old woman there are still pieces that I struggle to get my head around. As a 48-year-old woman I am sad that there was no care or support to get through the hardest experiences.  I can see those parts of me as something different from myself.  See this is where it gets so complicated. I know how it is in my brain and sometimes when I write or say the words it seems so crazy. I know I did what was necessary to survive but today those same things are also a struggle. A person should not have to see parts of themselves far away because their life was just that violent. I had to put the things that happened to me on that sweet five-year-old.  I had to lock that spunky thirteen-year-old girl away because I cannot even comprehend the hell that she lived through.  There are big memories that I don't have, big experiences that I remember a few small seconds of. Can you imagine big moments in your life and remembering only a fraction of it?  That is my every day.   There are small things, and I can tell you about every detail from colors on the walls  and the fringe on the rug and the pillows.  I can tell you what I was feeling but I often can't tell you why. I see hands, I can remember fingernails and shape and yet not be able to see the face of the hands.   

 last night the nightmares were crazy, lots of running trying to get away. Then it was some kind of interview, Spunky was in the chair her eyes open and She was trying to speak. I am still trying to wrap my head around that. I know she has so much to say, no one ever gave her the chance to talk. She was silenced before we even knew it. You just didn't talk about it. You just keep going smile and pretend that everything is fine. We are so done pretending. I want to be in a place where things make sense and we are moving forward. Closer than ever, we can do this as hard as it is. 

I heart your heart