I am safe now

 

 

 

 

May 10, 2011

I am safe now. This very moment, where I am sitting, in this chair, in this house. I am safe. I say it over and over so I know its true and so I believe it. Looking out the window at the light as it dims from daytime to dusk, watching the shadows start to form, I still can’t believe that I am in a place where no one can harm me. I surround myself with my dogs, my flowers, a few very special and trusted friends, my husband and daughter. That is the best that I can do on most days, simply exist for myself and my immediate world.Not that this is bad, quite the contrary. This is the absolute best I have ever been and why I am able to finally give voice to this child. As I have come to know her, I’ve been blown away at how incredibly bright and resourceful she is. When the burden of generations of incest was given to her, she coped, somehow she coped and managed to break the insidious cycle that no one else in her family was able to. She crawled out of the smallest crack in the wall, not knowing where she was going but gave herself absolutely to the notion that a better life waited for her. To make the journey even more challenging, she was 5 and a child from extreme rural poverty and ignorance, so the idea was not one she could even lay her eyes upon. No one led good lives, most folks were unhappy to the point of violence. Because of her courage and unshakeable faith in something unseen, I have come to love this child so much and why I finally became able to rescue her.I shake even as I write this…I’m not sure that the night childwants me to speak. Sometimes I feel that she is bursting with words and stories and chatter and other times, she is so quiet and introspective. She desperately wants to tell her story but knows from a lifetime of experience that speaking out means trouble, sometimes danger. She speaks to me through symptoms and sensations especially at times when she needs my attention the most but I pay attention the least.My reality seems surreal at times like this, as if I am straddling two worlds. The walls that define my dimensions are thin and I travel back and forth between them often. I build my conscious and unconscious around this maneuver, one that was learned through experience and guided by instinct, not one learned by imitation or the product of parenting. My life skills have been developed by the seat of my pants, so to speak, and still continue to evolve due to my dogged pursuit of figuring this out this trauma and healing the aftermath of its storm. Psychiatrists disagree whether to diagnose me as multiple personality syndrome or at the very least disassociative disorder and I would probably agree with some of both. I do know that I cope by escaping somewhere in my brain.And that it has worked for me always. I also know that I feel things, mostly emotion, stronger than most people. And I don’t say that lightly, I seriously mean I feel emotion so strong its almost crippling. I have walked into a room and sensed people’s imminent deaths, I know almost immediately if someone is lying to me, transferring both positive and negative emotion simply by their energy.Life often becomes unbearable and so painful that I must retreat to myself, to my center, to the part that has soothed me when the unspeakable has been happening around me and to me. That part of me isn’t fluid, it is choppy and sporadic and crazy hyper-vigilant. Its eyes are moving and jerking constantly, never letting their guard down for a moment, watching, assessing, possessing the ability to sense the slightest change in energy that would send off a distress signal of danger. Perfected as a child, this sense is a gift of survival and the burden on the body. The human body will in time wear out, it grows tired of being guarded and tense, then it turns to exhaustion, bone weary, chemically imbalanced, muscle wasting exhaustion. And that’s where I am now, praying that my body can hold on.

I knew something was horribly wrong with me even before the doctors sent me home. They of course were waiting for a physical sign, which they evenutally got, before they could definitively say I was ill. Allopathic medicine can be incredible if you have something that someone can see, a lump, broken bone, rash, narrowed arteries, etc. But if you are one of the unlucky who have issues that are subtle or chronic or energetic, especially if they have been with you so long that they have adapted and morphed into your personality on a cellular level, then you are totally on your own. So…this is it, the start of my story, honest…naked…vulnerable…

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About Rescuing Little L

Documenting the pieces of my journey...recovery from childhood sexual abuse and cruel ignorance...the effects of those incidious acts through adulthood... until the grace of recovery transcended the trauma and shame of my past, making it possible to return to Rescue Little L.... View all posts by Rescuing Little L

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