Posted by antigua3 on February 14, 2008, at 17:43:01
Will it ever end? Does it ever end? Does the hurt ever go away? Does it ever stop finding a way into our souls as we even breathe, aching for clean air, only to find that each breath is tinged with a hurt just like the very coldest air?
I hurt like the littlest girl who was left to clean up her father's mess after he left her room that very first night. My mother was away, and I ached for her, sure that she would help me and make this stop. But she wasn't there, and when she came back, I didn't have the courage to tell her because I never wanted her to leave again. All my life I've felt this way. Be a good girl, and she'll never leave you again. But she did leave me again and again, no matter how good I was. And she turned me over to him completely, more than once, never noticing a thing.
Two weeks ago, I saw my pdoc. Nothing unusual, except he said I seemed depressed. Told him I was numb, couldn't feel anything despite the wonderful things that were taking place in my life. The next day at a funeral service for an older woman who was a church friend, I sat in the balcony and marveled at the beauty of the building. The stained glass window over the altar, and the light showing through, and how it changed according to the time of day and seasons. At Christmas, it's a joyful sign of the times with all the candles lit around it. My mother-in-law taught me that this was to be a home for me, this church, and all the best, most wonderful and saddest times of my life have occurred here. I was married here, my children were baptized and I spent countless hours in the back pews while they went to school here and performed in school plays. I also wept at the funeral for my tiny nephew, my father-in-law and father. It is truly a home.
I guess I disassociated a bit when I was gazing at the windows, and when I found my way back, I was lost. I forgot where I was, what I was there for, and couldn't even read the words on the pages. The songs sounded wrong, although I'd heard them a million times before.
I started to cry for my older friend, but then I couldn't stop; the tears were for more than her. I had to excuse myself from the reception because I wasn't under control, and I went straight home and took a nap.
When I awoke, I realized that I was broken, that I had broken apart, like an egg being broken and all the contents spilling out. I had never felt so alone as I had when I was that littlest girl.
I have this coat of armor I've worn since that little girl was hurt, and I've used it--unwisely and self-destructively at times--to always protect her. But the coat is filled with holes peering through all the patches I've made.
And the little girl whom I've protected all these years? Who I have deflected the hurt from in ways that have been hurtful to me, just so she can be safe? She wants her time now. She says she's ready. She's strong enough, and I've imbued her with the strength I've built up over the years. It's like a child--you bring them up with all your love, knowing that your final job is to let them go.
So, I'm going to shed my tattered coat, and let her be born. She's like a baby--you can't stop them from coming if they want to be born. But without her coat, I worry. Just like any mother would.
I'm broken, but my life is wonderful now in so many ways, in ways I never could have dreamed of because I have never allowed myself to dream or hope before. I hope I can make it, and that I don't pull her down with me.
antigua
poster:antigua3
thread:812744
URL: http://www.dr-bob.org/babble/psycho/20080210/msgs/812744.html