I was taking a shower today and staring at the shower head thinking about the time we had to change it. Then I suddenly remembered that there was a huge gaping hole on the other side of the wall. Changing this shower head was supposed to be simple… just unscrew the old one then screw the new one in place. Like most things in life it got complicated quickly. After trial and error we had to cut a large access hole into wall in the adjoining room to repair the problem. These repairs were taking place at about 9pm on a Sunday which meant we didn’t have much time to get the job properly done before we had to give up on it for the night and just rig it up and go to bed. Well now a month has passed and I had managed to completely forget that this huge hole existed. As long as the shower functioned properly and I didn’t have to look at the hole it was not a part of my reality. This became a metaphor for my life… I find that as long as I am functioning on a day to day level – as long as I can go to work, pay my bills, put dinner on the table, clean my kitchen, spend time with my husband – as long as I can do these things I fool myself into thinking that the gaping hole in my chest doesn’t exist. Then something horrible happens… something wonderful… my husband looks at me and says, “You don’t have to pretend here.” And I am suddenly aware of this wound. I feel it and allow myself to be broken for a moment. Just that small reminder that I am seen, that I don’t have to hide… It’s painful and wonderful at the same time. I usually don’t allow myself to feel this pain. I just gloss over it and pretend to be ok, to be happy. Something amazing happens in the middle of it all, though… Through the safe release of this pain… I find that under it I really am happy… that I really do believe everything will be ok eventually and I don’t have to rush through this healing process… I can give myself permission to be. There is so much grace in that realization.
Tag Archive: memories
An unfathomable sadness
has settled over me
blanket-like.
Its pain sears my chest
like a hot knife,
scarring.
I shrink away from words
and faces – I shrink
to you…
You-awaiting me beyond shadows
waiting in secret
my love.
In need of somewhere to settle
my restless emotions
ceaselessly search.
Longing for understanding
I cry out
(in despair)
I cry out silently and hear
my fears echoing
about me.
In an agonizing torment
I realize I am
alone.
Why this sad loneliness
this dull ache
these tears?
I should rejoice in your love –
instead I weep
I weep.
The mist curls softly,
caresses me lovingly,
a cool kiss of death.
I seek the embrace
of skeletal Thanatos
with his grinning skull
and eyeless sockets.
He carefully gathers me
doll-like in his arms,
singing lullabies
to the dying child within.
I cry in the end,
With horror – with pain.
One tear for my funeral.
One tear for my death.
You know, I never would have thought of myself as bad, damaged, or to blame if it had not been implied by my father. After my family found out about that I was molseted by my uncle they treated me like a freak, like a stranger. I don’t think they knew what to say to me or how to act around me. It’s like we were all lost. I will never forget what my father said, though… He had 3 things to say.
1. Are you sure you’re not making this up. Did you just want to fit in with the other girls, is that why you said this?
2. Why didn’t you tell us? Did you like it so much you just didn’t want it to stop, is that why you never said anything?
3. You are no better than a child molester your-self. If you would have said something when it happened you could have saved your cousins.
I will carry these scars the rest of my life. Before this conversation it never crossed my mind that I was to blame for any of this. Before this conversation being molested was just a bad thing that happened to me. Before this I had the illusion that my family would be there for me and support me if the worst happened. This conversation changed my entire life.




