It has taken almost an entire week to re-adjust to my quiet way of living. A full night’s sleep has finally returned. A good night’s sleep makes everything look better. All week the feelings brought fear. Tiredness will do that, and living in fear is not living.
Fears, like shadowy waves of Samuel dying, my death, feelings, because the needy little girl cries and sees things with dark eyes. Jealousies run rampant when a subconscious wish for another life.
Having constant doubts makes me run from my own self. Yet if my feelings and thoughts can have holes, bring me down, and are so very human, can’t I forgive and accept the very same in others?
Yes, but it takes time. It is hard being around daughter’s-in-law who are so different, so normal. Though hesitating to use that word, it crops up often. Normal., warm, loving, able to self-advocate freely, promptly, and without pause or apologies. My tendency is to say nothing, take in hurts, then build resentments.
It makes me feel small, useless, and odd. It is hard to recover that feeling of wholeness when around two young women whose lives are so different and freer from how mine was; the hardships, the constant wish to die, the blackness, a hole so deep I was lost in it for years.
Social connections were limited and didn’t last because of the inability to speak up. When it became impossible not to, the other person was blown away and the friendship was lost forever. Social connections are limited now because my body tends to ramp up interfering with all other daily functions, especially sleep.
It makes me both sad and joyful. Joyful in that my sons have found women that are whole, not shattered by childhood trauma. But sad in that the dichotomy is so deep, life-long and cruel. I was not the lucky one to come out of childhood whole. Dirty hands clamped my being, and there is no way to make another reality, though as each one dies my being becomes lighter.
Accepting it once again takes time. Coming back home into my body, psyche and soul has been a slow process, letting go for umpteenth time of the wish it all hadn’t happened because it left challenges they don’t have and will never understand. A subliminal wish lurks below, that of a magical do-over, a chance to be like my daughter’s-in-law re-living my life without the tarry blackness.
It did happen. I’m different because of it. It is part of who I am, and I will not run.