Lonesomeness

 I saw this today, and my tears started to swell. I had never seen this word before, but it's so fitting. I think sometimes that I live in that state. I have always lived there; it might even be my go-to. I do have a few people in my life, the constant the forever's, but there is a sense that I will forever be lonesome. Maybe it's the things I have experienced; maybe it's how I was raised. Maybe this is just a time for me to realize how far I have come and be sad about the things that have broken my heart. Over and over, I think I was just a girl who was 13 years old, and that is not very old at all.  I seem to be focused lately so much on the First rape by Don. It seems that the pictures are clearer, and it makes me sad. I was not the woman that I thought I was. I was not an adult; I was just a girl who wanted to be loved and cared for. 

I feel like I'm in this loop, replaying the smallest details of that one day, trying to give it some kind of understanding or some peace. I don't know if there is any. I feel like it should not be affecting me the way that it is. I should not be so upset; it was lifetimes ago, and yet these last few weeks, there have been days when it feels so present. I think I have realized that a young, innocent girl is right in the middle of everything in grad school, wanting to be heard and understood. I find research articles and think that for certain topics to be on others' minds as well as mine gives me a certain comfort. 

They say that there is a story behind every counselor, and I think that could not be truer. We all have stories, and I have mine. Mine just feels exceptionally heavy these days. This semester at school is a heavy semester.  I still know that I am on the right path; I am where I am meant to be. There are just a lot of realizations that hurt. This is just one of those times when it's hard to separate the person that I am from the counselor in training. Because Spunky, that girl that I was, is in the middle of everything and struggling to be free. There are a lot of realizations that things should have been so different. I have run from her my entire life, and for once, not running is just plain painful. I have never sat with her, the pain or the realization of her truth. Everything was always her fault; she did this and that and then this, and it was always her fault. But nothing is her fault, even the dancing, the wanting to be included and cared for. None of those things are things that any other normal 13-year-old girl wouldn't want. 

I found an article talking about weight and Rape. I think there was a moment when reading that sucked all of the air out of the room. Everyone told me I was the chubby unpopular kid who would want to do that to me. That has stuck with me after all this time; each time I think about it, I can hear the words and feel myself shrinking; oh, right, who would want to do that to me. It's a constant fight. 

I feel so alone in my bones lately, and it is heavy and very strong. I need to speak with others who understand. How is it that I can work so hard to heal little Callahan and struggle so much with Spunky? I know these things, and she still seems so different from me. She is closer than ever and still feels very far away. Just hurt beyond imagination, still scared of the world. The work that I am doing now is for her so she can someday find some peace; she deserves to rest forever.  She needs so much kindness, maybe that is why I think she will always be in a place far away, then there is a certain reassurance that she can never be hurt again. She wouldn't make it.  If she is alone, then I can guarantee that. Maybe someday it won't be like that, I have to hope.  

There is a need to connect with other moms like me. Being a mom right now is very lonely, and I don't know what to do. I feel like Vincent hates me, and I just want to understand why. What are his thoughts? What is he thinking? But he doesn't even want to be in the same room. So much so that I wonder if all those things are because of me. I want to talk to other moms who have been raped and have their children.  What are their thoughts and experiences? I have never met another mom like me. Do they have support,  do they struggle with making each and every life decision. I don't know, but lately, that seems to be weighing heavy on my heart. Was I treating him different because of what happened, I have worked so hard not to, but maybe did I do something unintentionally?  I just don't know. Another area where lonesome is the only word that fits. Others can't understand what it's like and all that we have to carry. Another step in the process of healing, but my heart is so tired. Just a time of lonesomeness, I will be ok I always am, but it's an insurmountable load to carry. 

I heart your heart.