Woke up this morning with a very raw feeling in the centre of me. My counselling session churned up dirty, ugly, things from the past and I am sitting with all the hard stuff that has bubbled up.
We talked about some painful realisations that I have made. Of how the body remembers all the trauma, how it is trapped deep in the cells. I have always had the habit of putting my right hand over my mouth to cover it completely. I do this without even realising it. I know, on the deepest level of knowing, that it was the giant hand of my father over my little mouth when he was abusing me. That hand is so symbolic; both physically and emotionally, of the silencing, the repressing! I did to myself what he he did to me all those years ago. My mind doubted what my body knew all along!
When I got married, I couldn’t make love to my husband at first, for a very long time. The muscles of my vagina contracted and my muscles tightened, I just couldn’t. I felt so weird and alien. Again, my body remembered and knew, yet I never admitted to myself what he did.
It’s horrible to talk about this, to think it, to feel it, but the horror, the shame, the ugliness, is not mine and is not me! I feel so overwhelmed by disgust today, feel physically ill and dizzy. My body is retelling my story. The story that my father tried to get me to swallow. The disgust is spewing out into my cells.
My father used to call me “Big Ears” because I was an inquisitive child. He said my legs looked like upside-down bottles. So yes, I could sit here and bring up every hurtful thing he said and did, but I am going to change the angle of the camera. I am tired and weary, the weight of it drains me.
So instead, I am going to focus on the love and the gentleness that I need to give to myself today. How I need to just sit with myself through the pain and disgust and sadness and just rock myself gently the way my grandmother did to make me sleep.
I know by now that we become whole by turning ourselves inside out, by ripping ourselves apart so that we can put all the pieces back together. Tiny piece by piece. We become whole by embracing all the darkness and staying with ourselves gently throughout the process. Even at those times when the journey makes us want to jump off the train and run in the opposite direction. We become whole when we mindfully pause and observe the racing thoughts and their twin feelings.
We become whole when we realise again that we are complete and enough despite it all and that we are not the past, or the feeling or the thought.
We are the permanent essence within, the deep inner core at the centre. The quiet place of love and beauty and great inner strength. The flame that never never dies out, the boulders that stand firm and strong in the storm.