Poor Danny. He ran from himself tying to kill himself till finally succeeding.
I run from what he did to me.
Waking several times as has become the custom, finally a glance at the clock and with relief it was 3AM. That beats midnight. Forcing myself to stay became impossible. Opening the door to the hallway the tiredness drove me back to bed.
The realization came that my fear isn’t about Samuel being away, or anything external, it is internal terror writhing like electrified coiled snakes making me run from my own spirit/ soul, body, and fully being. The same scared feelings implode whether he is beside me in bed or not.
Casting off the critic, a softer, wiser voice said, ‘Go there. Be with all of you, it’s OK.’
Over and over as my thoughts and feelings drifted away from my body, that gently guiding mantra made me brave enough to try, going within where real terror lived-sleep came.
The most violent memory lives there, (Chapter 6: Dan, from my memoir SHATTERED), and who wants to be there? Running- running from lying in the dark, jumping at noises under the pine, (only a bunny), running to food to numb, running from my own self most of my life.
The work to stay to continues. The memory of Danny’s violent rape closer to the surface because that part of me that has kept me safe from it is releasing its grip as steps have been taken to honor my needs bringing overwhelming peace and well-being. My home, meadow, the cat and me. Yet terror remains in a memory repressed.
That voice in the night said, ‘it already happened. You are safe.’