Where I Find Myself
Another perhaps more fitting title might be...Where am I?
My seeing seems narrowed to day to day experiences, often minute too minute, especially of late. I'm revisiting days of long ago where I thought I lived. I lived but not in any way conscious of who I was or might become. I lived according to what I'd learned to believe. I believed forsaking my heart, self was the way I'd go out of this world, the way I was destined . There could be no turning back the awful truth of who I'd become. What was the truth? According to who? I was on shaky ground where the hell I'd been taught to fear was there behind me waiting for me to fall....into the dark abyss where I'd be swallowed forever. The world seemed dark, bleak and I was checking out, getting numb. I was not capable of living outside my own paralysis. That was the purgatory I'd been threatened with, where there was no forgiveness, no hope, no redemption. I was lost in that awful space of emptiness and nothing, and no one, alone. What ever was left of me would slowly and agonizingly be torn away.
Well, so life was then.
In my mid-teens I rebelled against the injustices I knew only to find myself ostracized from the family I fought. I had been beaten down. I slammed the doors behind. My woundedness and paralysis great, my will nearly defeated. I ran away - not far from where I'd come. I remained unsupported. With all the shame I carried, I invited persecution and judgment. Many a willing suitor, often equally damaged, I made comfortable in the untouchable space I'd created. There I gave myself away 'til I found myself nearly empty. I felt I was dying and feared that I had never lived. I couldn't run, couldn't hide and couldn't face another day living in purgatory.
I fought yelling and screaming only to be faced with the only way out. I needed to let go, to die to self. Certainly, I had nothing left to lose of my self. It was certain I had nothing to give. Shut down, turned off, shut up and turned out. Dying was my only option.
That is when first I went to Marc. I went to him on the pretext of repairing my marriage but when my husband asked me on a date I refused. Of course, I had no idea what was being revealed of my woundedness. Even some fifteen years into the work finding my trauma being laid open in pieces, the sum of some of those wounds. One after another. My paralysis making sense. My armor thick even around my body. My injuries ran next to my core. It seemed to graze the edge. To journey with fear as my ally seemed absurd and made perfect sense. I'd known fear all my life, so what better companion. I had every confidence in the sustainability of it.
Through what seems like a long time, I began to recognize my worthiness and the shame began to melt. At first, of course, like the rest of what I knew, I am offered gifts and I turn my back refusing them determined to remain self sufficient - and alone. It became more difficult to maintain that identity and separateness as more and more I felt my pain. Grief welling in my soul to where fear of dying seemed the inevitable next part. In that place, I wanted to end my aloneness. I told my story and more shame melted away. I let myself be seen. I dared to feel loved. However, for so long, from afar. As I kept up the vigil to feel and be seen, my desire to be in the world was emerging. I felt fear changing to excitement. I was becoming anxious to be in relationship with Him. He is my teacher, my star, my everlasting. He is my life.
I found with Marc, Christa, Laura and so many others the examples of compassion and emergence to the deeper place of feeling. I saw in them the uplifting of spirit to their spilling over into the world. I hadn't believed as a child there was enough love for all the souls of this earth, especially me. Now I am feeling in a different way. I haven't expressed much in words. I told of the calm I now feel in place of my constant companion of fear from harm. I haven't had the words for so long to say.
Then blessing upon blessing I have been filled with in the last short months. My sons are returned after thirty-four years. My cup runneth over! My three daughters brought me the news and like soldiers they surrounded me. And now my circle from a deep wounded place, the greatest wound is complete. I'm certain there will be more to come and perhaps not all so wonderful but I don't know that. I am feeling His support and the never ending passion of the soul where once I was blind.
I sit quietly taking in the sweetness of conversations with each of my children knowing the preciousness of our time together. I am careful to listen to them as they speak of their lives; careful not to interject my stuff because these are their experiences. I am glad to have the moments to sit with them and laugh or cry. I am telling the parts of my story as I'm asked, unashamed. Grateful to feel Him even as the foul head thrashes into our space and knowing He waits to be my champion. Trusting doesn't seem so difficult as before. I work at it still. He will show me what it is and where I go next. He directs my dreams. I am learning to listen and obey.
I am learning how my pathology will steal away any piece of me I'm willing to let go. I see that my sons coming into my life at this time was orchestrated by my Sweet Father. I was tended and mended to feel my heart so there was a place in me to receive them. I see the effects of my journey from so many others eyes that I didn't realize were watching. All this time I'd thought I was alone. Thank you for the life. Thank you for the light. Thank you for never giving up on me. Thank you for loving me.