I know that every story that every severe child abuse survivor can tell of the past and of the present is unique. I cannot speak of anything other than what I know as one of these survivors. All I know is that today is one of those days I need quiet – not that my life is remotely busy or noisy as a rule. Just that today I did go to town, kept my session out there in the world very brief, accomplished my few errands – and then I ran home ASAP to my quiet.
Somehow for some reason I cannot track I am sad inside today – not far from tears – a body memory I suppose that doesn’t seem to be triggered today by anything especially noteworthy or significant. Just a blue day.
Partly I suspect I feel this because I did not get my daily dose of working hard on some outdoor project from the break of dawn until the day’s heat cooks me back indoors. Because I went to town early hoping to buy a tree at the farmers’ market today – only the guy with the trees didn’t make it ’cause his truck broke down – I entirely missed the morning’s sweet cooler hours for work. (see previous post on goat pen progress)
Breaking my familiar pattern seemed to break my day. Something inside of me feel more broken, as well. It is the hot hot dry dry and today very WINDY time of year here in the high desert. This is an inhospitable time of year. A harsh and forbidding time of year – unless one catches the day at exactly the right time. Which today I chose to miss.
Had I been able today to enjoy – or even to tolerate myself around people I could be visiting someone right now. But, no, I am here and somewhat lonely although on days like this I have no hope that any available human contact is really going to fill me up in any way. Empty. Often the human contact part of who I am as a severe early abuse survivor just IS empty – and stays that way – ’cause (as a blog commenter mentioned this morning) there is no real hope that I can tolerate human contact for very long.
It’s too noisy. It’s too confusing, too demanding, too exhausting.
Stones and adobe mud and plants struggling to endure and survive are very quiet. Today – now – the wind is uneasy, fitful, waxing and waning unpredictably in strength. Tired in the hot wind. Tired around people.
Can one’s soul get tired, I wonder? Or is our eternal soul strong always – just harder to connect with sometimes? Certainly a SELF must get tired, a body gets tired. I feel tired. Yet I can be so impatient with this tiredness.
At those times I can either make peace with the reality of how I feel – and relax – be kind and gentle and patient with myself.
Or, I can bemoan that I am ‘this way’ – although I know perfectly well how I got ‘this way’.
I do not believe there are any magic answers. Because we are all so different I imagine we experience being survivors in different ways. I am proud of myself that I do not seek ANY trauma drama to boost my adrenaline, go distract myself, to try to create solutions where there are none – not now.
The truth seems to be that I need much calm, much quiet. If I knew someone who I could be with – and we could be peaceful and calm and quiet together…. Or is that an oxymoron?
I wouldn’t know.
I seek shelter from the heat and from the wind. How, where do I seek shelter from the other storms I feel?
In quiet, which is exactly where any rest I had away from Mother’s abuse happened during those 18 years. Quiet. In the center of a storm and when there is no storm at all.
Often, I cannot tell which is which.
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