It has a life of it's own

 I was watching TV this afternoon when someone mentioned something that happened to them. They said that it felt like it had a life of its own. It was like a lightbulb went off, and I came to write.  Me Too, Me Too. What happened to me at 13 has a life of its own. It's a time and place so close, yet so far away. A place and time that I know so well yet often feels like something so foreign.

What happened to me when I was 13 lives in a place where it is on repeat, trying to figure itself out, and become anything other than what it is. There are moments I remember so clearly, as well as others when everything seems to have vanished. There are moments when I watch from the ceiling, and moments when everything goes black. There are moments when I become stuck in panic. Still, there are other moments when I see it from someone else's perspective. I have been working so hard, wanting so badly to heal that part of me. I want her to feel acknowledged and to understand that those things were not her fault.

Whether she danced with him or not. Whether others noticed or not. I want her so badly to stand in her truth, to say these things happened to me, but I am here today.  I am doing everything I have ever dreamed about, and Don and his friends will never take that away from me. I say that, and I feel a sinking feeling; there is so much doubt. There are days I feel like they still win, no matter how hard I fight. Throughout the entire journey, I encountered many cruel comments that I took to heart, and they became etched in the person I was. The questions I couldn't answer were the things I didn't know. I was made to believe that it was my fault, and although I know in my head that isn't the case, my heart still struggles. Well, how long were they there? I didn't see you dancing with anyone. It didn't look like someone broke in. I was unpopular, weird, and overweight; who would want to do that to me? No one held my hand to tell me it was ok and asked me what happened. 

I often feel that they took pieces of me that I can never get back. They did so much damage that there are things I will never experience in my lifetime. That is a different kind of devastation. There is layer upon layer of things I can't understand and will never know. Most of me is ok with what I don't have, but there is a piece of me that wants all the pieces. Sometimes it's easier to focus on what I don't have than on the pieces I remember every second.  What I don't know and can't remember is just gone. Somehow, focusing on things that I don't have keeps me away from the things that I am all too clear about, which are keeping Spunky on that couch, scared to even breathe or take up space. 

What happened to me has a life of its own, which holds on to every part of my being for dear life. I don't understand why this is so incomprehensible. I know it was unthinkable, but I doubt myself all the time, if it was that bad. If it had been that bad, the entire day would have become blackened, but there are parts I so clearly remember.  The sun on the floor, through the sliding glass door. The blades of the fan, and repeating their names over and over. Don's laugh. The smells. The chaos, wanting to see Andy. Was it really as bad as I remember it? There is this fight, knowing it was devastating, and at the same time, I am questioning everything, like am I just overreacting? 

That may be part of the reason why this is so challenging, as it encompasses so much and is deeply intertwined with everything. Nothing ever stopped; life just kept going, no matter how bad I was hurt. There is a part of me that has to keep going, just keep going, move forward. The world doesn't stop just because I'm sad or hurt. There is a certain devastation for Spunky that takes my breath away. I know she is me, and I am her, but goodness, sometimes I feel like she might crush me. 

I heart your heart