Saturday, October 12, 2013

I'm Back

I haven't been writing much.  Or at all.  In the middle of, possibly the end of, a spiritual "block" of sorts when it came to writing.  Was dealing with root issues and just was feeling inward.  Not open. 

Today something happened.  I had craniosacral work done, which is a lot of things but I was worked on by someone who views it more as a spiritual journey and conversation the patient has with him or herself.  Just what I needed.  I needed to get to the blocks on my spiritual roadway.  I was feeling stunted and isolated from movement. 

I am ready to write again.  It's not going to be warm and fuzzy guys.  We are entering into dark territory.  There won't be any monsters, anything exterior to be afraid of.  The scariest parts of the world are those parts that we hide from ourselves.  The truths of who we are, in part, that we do not accept.  That is where I am going.  I am on an expedition.  I am climbing a mountain and it's not a day hike.  It's a life-hike.  I am looking to discover, unearth, set free and above all, accept...me. 

The parts of me I show others, I show you, are likeable parts.  That's what we all do.  That's what we try to fake ourselves into thinking - that we are only the "good" parts. 

Today, I faced some not-so-good parts.  I faced some memories.  Some moments of vulnerability.  Some fear.  Some pain.  And I wanted to shove it away.  I wanted to run in the other direction.  I wanted to say no, I am peace, love and light.  And I am.  But I am also pain and vulnerability and loss. 

And I have lost. 

I lost my childhood in a lot of ways.  Almost all of it.  When you are sexually active from 3-8 and again from 13 onward...you don't feel too much like a kid.  Ever.  And being naive, innocent, young for me as a child was scary.  When I was those things I was abused.  When I was tough and adult-ish I was safe. 

I was little today. During this therapy session.  I was a little girl again and I was scared shitless. Being young, being little to me is scary.  It's not carefree and fun.  It's hell.  It's paralyzing.  I was paralyzed. 

But you know what?  I felt it.  I was there.  I remembered.  And I got through it. 

Recovery is that.  Healing is that.  It is not glossing over the bad, the pain, the wound.  It's looking that scary monster of yourself that is the pain, the anger, the loss in the eye and saying - show me you.  Be you.  Be scared. Be angry. Feel loss.  Feel pain.  And I will still love you.  I will still be standing right here.  Or laying here.  Or whatever, but here.  It's letting that wound rage.  Letting it flare until it's out of breath and it collapses into a pile of tears. 

I cried today.  Quietly.  I cried for the innocence I lost.  I cried for the injustice.  But mostly I cried because the little girl inside me that was abused was alone.  She was small and alone and I cry so she knows someone knows.  I cry and she breathes deeper.  I cry and she feels connected. 

I am working on her.  I am working on me.  I am not yet ready to get close to anyone emotionally (i.e. romantic relationship wise).  I am used to having someone to talk to every day.  Someone to share with.  Someone to experience life with intimately.  It's hard not be with someone but when I look at the part of me that was abused I realize I need a lot of space, love and support from myself right now and don't have much to give to someone else in a relationship.  I keep reminding myself of this because all I want to do is curl up in someone else's loving arms and forget.  But it's not time to forget. 

It's time to remember. 

It's time to accept.

And it's time to love.  Me.

Deep breath in.  Let's go. 

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