Ghosts don't apologize

 

I heard these words today, and they kept repeating in my head. Ghosts don't apologize.  One of the worst things I have ever read was my mother's words. That long letter my mother wrote, in a sense, told me everything I did wrong and everything that was wrong with me. All the ways that I did things wrong, and I was blamed for my reactions to what happened to me. I was supposed to be quiet and keep smiling. All the ways that I was holding on to the past, and just needed to get over it. Her words were cruel and uncalled for, and broke my heart in ways that I never imagined. 

 She said, " All of my ghosts haunt me. I lived in a haunted house that she refuses to visit. " Oh, those words. She didn't want to visit the house that she created for me. 

Yes, all the things that have happened to me haunt me sometimes. I was hurt so deeply by the people who were supposed to love me.  I could say that the house I grew up in was haunted by a man who used his own daughter as his wife. I could say that my mother chose to look out for herself rather than protect her daughter. I could say I lived in a house full of secrets that everyone was comfortable keeping. I could say that she made me that way, and yet I was blamed for being so hurt. 

Today, when I heard the words "ghosts don't apologize," I immediately thought of the letter she wrote and thought, "She is the ghost that will never apologize." I will never hear an "I am sorry" for the things I didn't know. I am sorry for the ways that I didn't protect you. I am sorry for not being there and letting your father hurt you. I am sorry you went on that weekend. I am sorry you were brutalized. I am sorry you suffered the loss of your girl alone. I will never hear any of those things, in any form.  She is a ghost that will never apologize. She is a ghost who never saw me for who I truly am. She was a ghost when I needed her and a ghost when I stood up for what was right. She was a ghost when I was left alone, trembling in my own bed. She was a ghost when I found my voice. She was a host when I took the stand to testify and save another little girl.  She was a ghost that refused to see the damage she had done and blamed me for her shortcomings. She was the ghost who chose to look the other way as her daughter suffered. 

There was a different realization today that I will never get the love that I longed for. I will never get that I am so sorry for all the things that have happened to you. I will never get that I am sorry that I didn't protect you. I will never get the experiences that a daughter is supposed to have. She could never acknowledge what happened to me or the damage it caused. At this point, I truly believe that she was not capable, and that feels like a million thorns on all the hurt places. I truly don't believe that she was sorry. I was someone who refused to remain silent, and she just couldn't understand that. She didn't want me to survive and thrive; she wanted me to survive and become the victim like she had done her entire life. I wanted more for myself, and she never ever understood that. She missed out on so much of who I was. She will never apologize for how she treated me. I will never ever hear those words. Some days, I don't even realize that those are the words I long for. Hearing those words today made me realize that I would give anything to hear them and be acknowledged. Someone to be sorry that things were so hard, so violent, and so gut-wrenching. She is a ghost, and she will never apologize.  She was very wrong, though. I do not live in a haunted house; I just sometimes have to visit there to continue healing, and I am so ok with that. 

I heart your heart. 

You can't take away my thoughts and dreams

 

There are just times that Spunky becomes more prominent, and it weighs heavily on my heart. Pieces are slowly coming together, and I am grateful.  The fear is ever-present and so intense. Somehow, I am going to end up like Probst in K-Pax. The fear is that time and place can somehow destroy all that I have worked so hard to achieve. Things were just that terrifying.  I have come so far, and she is such a huge piece of who I am as a person, and I so want her with me on the rest of this journey. She is still sitting in Mark's waiting room, taking it all in. I think she is trying to see beyond what was done to how she feels and what she thinks. All the people around her blamed her, and she is trying to undo everything that still plays in her head. She is trying to move beyond the gross and disgusting to that place where she was just a scared girl who needed so much care. I think she often puts on a front that she doesn't need anyone or anything, and yet I know she needs so much. There is just so much loss that I think it could swallow her whole. I think when a person has had to keep it all together for so long, that step of letting someone in, even if that someone is me, is a huge step. 

I think so much of that deep, deep sadness that I often speak about comes from her and what she had to experience. I have worked so long finding the right words, and I still struggle to find words for her. The kind of aloneness that she endured feels like that last leaf holding on for dear life before winter comes. Everyone has moved on, and yet I am always the last one hanging on.  

I was talking to a friend the other day, and she said that when her husband got into trouble, his parents took everything away. All his toys, his favorite show on Tv. He would go sit on his bed and say, " Fine, you can take all those things, but you can't take away my thoughts and dreams. How beautiful is that? Spunky had everything so violently stolen from her. Her sense of who she was, her womanhood, her soul was shaken to the core, and still, she always kept going. She always found something to fill her heart, taking care of others, watching the sky, and believing in the kindness of whales.  I do think that, deep down, she always believed she would someday make a difference for others, and that she held onto for dear life. She has had to fight her entire life, and finally finally, I don't think she is fighting anymore. I think she is resting. She is watching and waiting for that moment when she feels confident she won't break when she finds the words for the thoughts and feelings she has always had to hide.  

I think sometimes she sits there on that couch with that trauma mountain in front of her and is trying to find the best option to make it over the top. I personally think she is further than she thinks she is, but I understand the terror. The couch in the waiting room is the safest she has ever felt, and I know the moment is coming when she will stand, take a deep breath, move through that door, take my hand, and we will finish this journey together, doing all the things we once could only imagine. 

I heart your heart. 

For those who are still whispering

 I saw a post on Facebook, a part of a poem, that stood out to me. No, I take that back, it was more like screaming at me. There are still times when I feel guilty for sharing my story or wanting to speak about the things that have happened to me. There are times, even in conversation, that I would love to speak up and say my truth, to talk about the things that I have had to face, yet that silence sits on our chest, and we keep our words and thoughts to ourselves. The things many have experienced are kept in the dark and overlooked. The things that have happened are things that are looked down on and judged, but I am here to stay forever and always true to who I am. From my very being, I want to shine a bright light on those awful things as a path for others to heal. Even today, after all the work I have done, there are moments I find myself shrinking, becoming small, and I look forward to the day that  Irise higher instead of shrink smaller. I look forward to the day when I don't have to hold my story back for fear of what others might think. I look forward to the day that I am able to hear, " Thank you for sharing your story for speaking up, because in that, I found my own way." 

I promise it's not this look at me kind of thing, it's a quiet strength, a courage, a hope that things could be so different for others. I am tired of people having to whisper and pretend that their hearts are no longer broken, or that the ache of trauma is all gone. It may ache forever. That has to be ok, but as time passes, edges smooth, we grow older, we see things differently, and sometimes we can sit and hold our hand on our heart and know just how far we have come. If we can come this far, we can go the rest of the way, and we will come out on top, feeling lighter, with a peace that we never ever imagined. 

In counseling my clients I sometimes hear myself and think, wow look at the things you are able to see in them but are unable to hear. I tell them how brave and strong that they are how much worth that they have but those things in me are often a whisper. A whisper I am working on but still a whisper. 

To all those still whispering including myself, we deserve to have a voice and for it to be heard. 

I heart your heart. 

Look for the windows

 This semester is going to be amazing; I have a professor who values who we are as people. We are seen and genuinely heard. He speaks to us as the counselors that we all hope to become. He wants us not only to be better for ourselves, but for our clients. He tells stories, many of them more than once, but each time he tells one, I see it differently and consider its impact on a client. He may tell the story more than once, but I see it differently each time. Today, he was talking about seeking windows that let us gather more information and gain insight into our clients' world. They are going to give us those windows; it's about recognizing them and doing something with them. What one person may see as a window and fly through, gaining so much, might not be seen by another. Each window is an opportunity to learn more, do better, and gain a deeper understanding of where a client is at any given time. 

I think maybe this is true for all of us. We are all just hoping to share something of ourselves and to make a difference for others. We are all looking for that just-right person to come along who can hear our song, see our heart, and gently touch our soul. When that happens, we can open our window and share a deeper part of who we are. I hope that I am that for my clients: I hope that I catch those open windows and hear them in the right places, in the ways they need it most.  

So often in my life, there have been people who have either ignored those windows, chosen to look the other way, or not even cared that they were there in the first place. Today, that makes me so sad.  So many missed opportunities that no one took the time to see. I truly think that is one of the things that makes me, me. I notice those windows; I notice the little changes, the differences, and I acknowledge them. That is something that I will always always do. 

I heart your heart. 

Are you the girl ?

 

So many dreams and nightmares lately. Last night was no different.  I went to someone's house, which was huge, and lots of people were there. I am not sure why, but it felt like everyone was there for me. And then one guy, someone's dad, was talking to me and came right out and asked, "Are you the girl who was raped?" There was a feeling of shock, and I said yes. But there wasn't a sense of shame at all.  He said he was sorry, and someone brought out a huge stuffed animal for me. I think it was a Snoopy. This guy gave me a hug and said that he was sorry. I just cried. It felt like everyone in the room was there to support me. People were asking questions and supporting me in ways I had never known. Experiencing something like that, even in a dream, is a feeling that is so unfamiliar. To be able to speak and say yes, those things happened to me, but it finally felt like I wasn't the one who had done something terrible for the first time ever. That feeling that I had being in that room, being able to say yes, and then not feeling like I was something disgusting or less than.  The way that I felt in that room was the way that I felt after my documentary with Neil, Val, and Jim. I could have fallen over, and they would have caught me.  It was such an amazing feeling to have that kind of love and support.  I woke up and didn't want to; I wanted to stay right there and hold on to the feeling in the dream forever. 

And I think I am 50 and just had that dream, that would have meant the world to me when I was 13. Feeling like I was worth something, like I wasn't the one to blame, I wasn't the one at fault. Just to feel like I wasn't all alone in the world would have meant more than words. My heart hurts, and I have been teary-eyed all day. I think there was a part of me that wanted to go back to sleep, longing for that feeling.  That even with what happened to me, I was still loved and respected. I don't want to be 50 and still crying; it was such a long time ago, and yet the feelings are so raw. Today I felt like that scared little kid, afraid of the world and all that it couldn't give me.  Today it felt like it was yesterday, and I was as alone as ever. I haven't felt like this in a very long time.  If I could have just crawled back into that dream just to capture that feeling and bring it to 2026.  I would give almost anything to make that happen. To feel like I am more than the things that happened to me. To feel like someone gave a shit and cared enough to give me a hug and make sure that I was ok.  I think I would have given anything for someone to ask Are you the girl who was raped. and then to respond with such kindness. Such love, to even give her a hug. 

I often talk about how attached those things are to me, but in the dream, after he asked about me and offered care, there wasn't the same kind of attachment. I think sometimes I see myself as all those things that happened, I see the gross and disgusting, I see the marks, I feel the hands.  I still feel the pain in the worst of the nightmares. There wasn't a moment of blaming myself; there wasn't a moment that I felt gross and disgusting in that dream. There was just the fact that it happened, and I deserved the same love and respect as anyone else. 

Haven't had a day like this in forever. It felt closer than ever, and I just want to close my eyes and imagine all that I felt in the dream were things that I wish Spunky had at 13. 

I heart your heart.