Imagine a fairy tale life where you were safe and protected and there was no bad guys or danger. Where parents kept you safe and could heal your booboos with a hug and kiss.(that is how childhood should have been for all of us)
You grow up and are excited to be on your own and take charge of the world and do great things. You feel powerful and in charge. You charge out into the world demanding respect and love from it just like you received in childhood.
You build a strong house on a firm foundation and life is good.
Then you are visited by the man with the flesh knife and he breaks in and leaves his filth on you like a shadowy grime...and in you like some oozing slimy cancer.
The sun rises the next day and you discover all the walls of your carefully built house are gone. There is blood and dirt and darkness everywhere in your house staining all that is yours and you.
The sun is shining.
People are walking by looking inside your destroyed house and ignoring the devastation that is RIGHT THERE. Your soul is hanging inside out and withering from the immense mental pain.
You fall down from the weight that is crushing you. Breathing is a chore and you are afraid you are going to die...and afraid you are NOT going to die.
The sun keeps shining, the world keeps turning and everyone and everything goes on oblivious to your pain.
You look at your house and are so overwhelmed you don't know where to start the repairs. Every broken thing you pick up cuts you and makes you bleed.
At last your mind can take no more and the numbness sets in.
You seek the calm, comfort of nonexistence...maybe if I just look away it will all go away.
and the sun rises, and you find the world has gone on without you, left you in some cruel wake where you are neither alive nor dead.
then the fear sets in.
You sit in that wall less house realizing JUST HOW VULERABLE YOU ARE. That anyone can just come in and disrespect you and kill your soul.
The fear turns to anger and unfocused it boomerangs back to you.
YOU HATE YOURSELF.
You want to make sense of all this soul churning madness and the only way to make madness make since is to see it as this.
"I" must have done something to deserve this. "I" must be evil, bad, etc etc.
But the love you received in childhood conflicts with this new madness.
You seek to protect yourself. Nothing you do returns that sense of balance and safety. No matter how thick the walls are rebuilt you can't escape him as he haunts your memories.
You turn to things to self protect.
thoughts like...."I will make my self so ugly that no one will touch me want me again." you build fences by shoving those who love you away, you don't want them to get caught in the poison you feel yourself oozing.
You shove all those who love you the furthest away. So when you can't take it anymore and die from all this pain in your heart they will be protected...and not miss you.
You fall so many times tying to catch back up with the world spinning away from you at 10000000 mph that you give up and just lie on the floor with eyes clenched.
You wait for someone to come help you. To rescue you and help you.
Then when they do you bite their hands and chase them off.
Their compassion and love seem like dangerous sink holes that threaten to consume you.
That if you accept the offered love then you have to face, REALLY FACE that happened.
If you keep running you can keep 10 feet ahead of the horrifying truths that claw inside your head.
This is how it is for so many....way too many.
You can run forever and the truth will chase you the whole time. At some point hopefully, someone will see your pain.
Someone who will climb over the rubble and wade into the madness and set their lantern down.
In the dim light you will fight like some captured animal. You will say and do things to self protect and keep any help from you.
The person with the lantern will stay with you.
And in time you will tire of running and the rope will fall slack and in an exhausted heap, you will look up and the anger will return and you stand up and fight like a mother fucking wild cat to take back your power. And you will heal.
The journey is different for us all. Some fight the whole way, some give up, others are too afraid to loosen there grip on the floor to get up and start it. Some have no strength in there hands to reach out for help, or even hold on to the life lines offered.
Thankfully there are those with strong hands who can hold on for us.