Rage is an odd thing.
A foreign thing, at least my own.
I'm too familiar with outside rage, abusers rage, rage that most people
have, but rarely recognize as such. All
anger makes me panic, even my own.
Stretching into who I am, when I strip away all that I was told I was,
taught I was, brainwashed to believe I was....is a bit like trying on clothing
that is two sizes too big. There's all
this room for me to move and space for me to discover and grow. There is wonder at the magic of some things
about me and fear at some parts I find as well.
I feel a bit as I did on the beginning of this healing
journey. Terrified and yet in awe of all
that I see, all that I can be and all that I am leaving behind. No, I'm not the "Perfect" girl
that the abusers labeled me, and that I knew always was a lie. But I'm also not the "dirty" girl
or the "slut" or any other label they chose to beat me down
with. So what does that leave, or more importantly
WHO does that leave?
Yesterday, in my Women's Mindfulness Group, I came
undone. Surrounded by these
intelligent, caring, beautiful, inspiring and strong women, I opened my mouth
and heart and told them my deepest fear.
I bared my soul, crying and terrified, telling them how stuck I feel
just now, that I am busy rejecting and running away from what comes next on
this healing path... and that it feels like no matter what I do I can't seem to
STOP rejecting and fighting it, even though I know the only way out.. is
through. I told them my deepest fear, of
that god forsaken door and what may lay behind it.
The abusers were good at what they did. All of them.
They worked very hard to create an abuser.. in me, of me. Brainwashing, hours of fear and terror,
darkness and pain, threats and torture.... all to make sure I would become one
of them. That I would be complicit in
their abuse and torture.
What if they succeeded?
I know, already, that I was forced to do things, that haunt me every day
of my life, every hour. Things I will
never forget and have yet to forgive myself for... despite the fact I was
forced to do them, both physically and in every other way. What if there is more behind that damn door? What if I accept what's behind the door,
open it and find, that I am just like the abusers? That I have conned myself and everyone else.
As I cried my way through telling my Group, one member
tip-toed over and sat behind me, rocking with me and holding me, and as I
looked to each of these remarkable women - all that I saw, ALL I saw, was love,
acceptance and support....and reflected back to me, Who they saw. They do not
see an evil person, a dark person, an abusive person at all when they look at
me... What they see is a woman who is a survivor and who is strong and is
fighting to heal and who radiates light and love. That is who I strive to be, who I hope I
am... and I am forever changed by seeing that reflected in their eyes.
Today I gave myself permission to have a slow morning, and
then I reclaimed my Yoga and Mediation practice. For the first time in ten years, I truly
reclaimed my spiritual practice, what feels most like home to me. I cannot express what this means to me, or
how hard I've fought to get it back. I
continued the day taking care of myself, seeking balance and trying to trust
that I am NOT who the abusers tried so hard to create. Trusting that in this too I win, and they,
well they have lost, forever.
I am still tired and soul weary. I am still scared and trying to sort out my
way to acceptance of what comes next on this journey. But I am hopeful. I am blessed to have the support I do, in my
sister, in my sisters of my Women's group, in my therapist - who has held my
hand on this healing journey for almost 9 years now, in good friends. I am blessed.
And too, I am blessed by all of you who are survivors, or
friends of survivors or loved ones of survivors. Thank you for reading. Thank you for walking your path. Thank you for inspiring me in moments I feel
I can't go on. Thank you.
May this be a blessed and beautiful day for you~
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