Just another Victim

 I don't want to be just another victim with a tragic story. I want to be the one who has found her voice, saying this is me, and we need to do things differently. I want to be the one who says these things happened, and I still feel them in my bones, but I am so much more than the things that have happened to me. That is what I want, but sometimes that is not what I feel at all. When I am working with Spunky, trying to heal her, I feel like a victim. I feel like I failed. I feel this tremendous sense of overwhelm at just how different she is. She experiences the world in a way that is vastly different from how anyone else perceives it. She is terrified most of the time. She wants to scream, but remains silent; she doesn't feel like she has a right to speak. Her words are too heavy, too full of truth. Sometimes she wants to communicate and tries, but her words come out either as silence or so loud that no one hears her. Other times, her words don't seem to make any sense at all. How does a person explain the fact that they have been to hell and back more than once? Somehow, the things that happened to her make her feel so incredibly worthless. I speak to give meaning to all the things that happened to me, and yet this part, Spunky's part, is more than complicated. I have worked so very hard and feel like I should know how to do this.  I feel helpless in these moments and feel like the word Victim should be placed on my forehead to warn everyone to stay away. I want to be in a place where I can throw my arms in the air, cry, and laugh, knowing just how far I have come and be ever so proud of myself. I long for that, I need that to mend this battered heart of mine. 

I heart your heart.

I heart your heart.