2 things

 

Two things that have made me think.  Two things I've believed for my entire 51-years of life. I believed them, and it wasn't until last week that I learned neither was true. 

1. I was not the origin 

2. Innocence doesn't cause evil

It was one of those things that you hear, and the world starts to go in slow motion, and the words repeat as your brain tries to make sense of them. What do you mean, I was not the origin?  Innocence doesn't cause evil; are you sure? What exactly does that mean? 

I was the origin of everything that happened to me.  I was the reason, the cause. I was the one who didn't listen, who did things wrong. I was the one who wanted too much attention or needed something.  All of the healing that I have done, there are still pieces of this that linger. I am the one still so affected; how could I not be the origin? 

Innocence doesn't cause evil.  That is another level of understanding that I am not sure that I have yet. I hate the word innocence, as I have never felt like it described me. I think, in my bones, I have always felt that something was truly wrong with me. Whatever that thing was, was it what maybe brought out the evil in others ? I don't quite know.  I am trying to find a place for that to land in this mind of mine, and I just can't right now. I can see the 5 year old that I was, and know that she had no part in the things that happened to her, later, there is a struggle, if I would have just been more careful, more aware, maybe things would have been different. 

I hate being 51 and still having a lack of understanding at times about the part that I had in all the things that happened to me.  I often wonder what it would be like if that were totally gone.  In this moment, I don't have a clue, but I keep working on it, and until my very last breath, I will keep fighting ! 

I heart your heart

How do I heal

 

I worry all the time that some things will never be, that there will always be oozy spots no one wants to see or help me through. I have done a great deal of healing, and I will continue. The questions remain: how do I heal this part of me?  How do I heal that 13-year-old part of me that has survived what she shouldn't have? How do I heal that 13-year-old part of me that is so much of the reason I am the person I am today? Maybe the loneliness I so often feel comes from that part. Even in my Doc classes, something feels different; I am not sure I fit in. I have this seriousness, this intense nature about this work, and I get so frustrated with others. I have found a chair for my dissertation and am over-the-moon excited.  Good things are happening; I am moving in the right direction, but still: spunky.  She is closer than she has ever been, but it's harder than it has ever been.  I think this doctorate is more for her than anything I have ever done.  That fight and drive to find her voice.  To finally be listened to and understood.  I am pretty sure that I have talked more about trauma in my three weeks of Doc classes than I was allowed in my entire master's program.  That needs to change, and I have to make sure that I am part of that change.  I met with a friend, and she remembers me being shut down every time I voiced my interest in Trauma.  Lately, that feeling alone is ginormous; I am not sure that anyone can understand the life that I had to live at 13.  I was so alone and so afraid all of the time.  So many of the things that I was taught to believe live there, and they are still extremely hard to overcome.  Just last week, Mark said that I was not the origin of all that happened to me.  That has been a hard one to wrap my brain around. I was the origin, the one who did something wrong, the one who wanted attention or needed something.  I was the reason that those things happened to me.  Today I think through that, and it's like circling a drain, trying to make sense out of something that there is no frame of reference for. Everything was my fault all the time, and I am not saying that in a poor-me way; I am saying it because that is what I grew up believing. I wasn't worth celebrating; I wasn't worth belonging; I wasn't worth people's time.  I think that so many of those very basic beliefs were cemented during that time. The violence, the loss, the blame were all on my shoulders all the time. I have said it before: there is a heaviness to her heart, all that she carries. She just wants to breathe easy. Lately, reminders seem to be everywhere. I even got home the other night; there was a group of 5 men in the driveway, and my brain froze. A part of me is still terrified, and I think, I couldn't fight them off; how could spunky ever have a chance! Realizations like that lately are heavy and unimaginable. These moments leave me shaken; having Spunky so close brings a different realization, and it's more than hard. The reality of lived experience is here and now, staring me in the face. The nightmares have been brutal the last week.  It's like I am back at square one after all that I have learned.  Last night I woke up screaming for Mariska to call 911; it was so real and so present. They were all climbing the fence. I screamed for her and told her to hide. I woke up looking out the window, truly believing that there was imminent danger.  I am too old for this; it was too long ago for me to still be having nightmares like this. It took me some time to catch my breath, truly believing that they were still after me. It's just so much to carry sometimes, and when there is such a desire to move forward, the past keeps knocking. I want to be free; I don't want that immediate panic to overwhelm how far I have come.  I know this one is hard; I know it's on a different level of terror and shame, but it was just so long ago. I think the problem of the last few weeks is that it feels so all-encompassing; everything I do I do for her, to get us to a place where we can breathe easy, where blame is gone, and our hearts are happy.  I am holding on to hope, but I can honestly say that right now, healing this part of me is the hardest thing that I will ever do in my entire life. I keep going because that is what I do, but I am so very, very tired.