My mother’s birthday is today. she passed in June or July of 2014 – 9ish months ago. I can’t remember exactly, only that it was the 11th. Already those finer details are sieving through my mind and I’m wracked with guilt over it, which glazes voice #3’s eyes over in pleasure. Ammunition to eat me up from the inside.
Forgiveness. It’s okay. this information is written down. You still remember her smile. You still remember your sweet adventures. You still remember the sound of her voice. She is amongst the loved ones in the land of the remembered. Her song will be sung and shared to your son who was fortunate enough to have met her though he will not remember.
This is just a feeling. This too will pass.
Sexual abuse. It has been a part of my conversations on the daily for the last two weeks. It has come to my attention that I know less than a handful of people who were not sexually, physically or emotionally abused (or some twisted cocktail in-between). We are all working towards appearing normal. releasing our pain and pleasure and vulnerability. We each interpreted our experiences in a different manner, and it’s nestled in the general population’s sub-concious.
We are more than the sum of our experiences because we are destined to adapt and
only by exposing that scar and involving hurt discussions can we begin to heal so we can treat people gently.
I am on fire. I am not alone. We can rise above. We can still choose to heal our wounds and create a beautiful community. Dreams infuse these dark conversations with hope that we can change the conversations to prevention. We need to change our focus to empowering our children to be children and still be aware.
My goal is to find a way to carve a safe space in my own heart and stitch the rest of it together as best I can using love to make it more beautiful.