I feel like I am Becoming.
Becoming visible for the first time in my life ever.
It is such a huge relief to be my bad ass, acting out rageful self & still to be loved.
I feel like I can finally breath for the first time in forever.
I feel like an eyelash set free upon the Wind, the breath of Life,
To be blown about in a hurricane, but I find it freeing to break free of these shackles of selfhood
That no longer fit me or hold me anymore.
As I breathe, air & life thankfully get inside. I feel Light in places that were so cut off from the sun, the Love of God, a golden brilliant Light of Christ Light.
I need to be a broken bad ass right now. I’ve always had to be “perfect” & invisible & hold this fortress of power & strength down, down, down. This well of authentic power shamed, shamed, shamed. My natural self over & over blamed, blamed, blamed, for existing, for breathing, for holding on to life despite insurmountable odds.
You are lucky if you don’t understand this. I don’t wish the pain I have witnessed on my worst enemy. The decades of death & abuse & horror. But now I act out, I rage & it is righteous indignation
Even if ugly. And I find Beauty in my ugliness for it is Real. And I find steadying in the midst of the tornado.
And I hug & hold myself close even if no one can understand that there is a method to my madness.
There is a perfect trajectory to healing. The birthing process is messy & scarey as hell, especially for those who have been born through the hell fire. But I am of the Light, & my True Self knows this is my Self & for that Self I can not & I will not turn away. I will allow her to give everyone the finger.
Since she was never heard.
Since she wasn’t really ever loved.
She she rocked herself to sleep, holding her knees close in a corner.
Since she screamed her words mentally through duct tape, while being raped & tortured more times than she could count on her summer “vacations”.
I welcome her rage. I find it a welcome relief. The terrifying swath of the tornado’s path clears the extraneous, the superfluous, the no longer necessary & creates a level beautyfull clean slate to create anew, from the ground up, stone upon stone, brick upon brick, a structure, with boundaries with protection for the sacred self.
I am lucky in that I get to be my own mason. Most people they become the house they lived in. They are molded & sculpted by those who loved them. But when you had no one, there is a certain freedom of ultimate self expression, of total integrity & union with the root of Self, of the Divine Self, that is power-full & is the ultimate foundation.
That can not be blown away by any wind, tornado or natural disaster , self created or otherwise.
I love that little girl. I love that little girl that rocked herself to sleep. That had torturous dreams the devil was raping her every night. That planned escapes routes & hiding place strategies for fun. I weep for her too, that everyone forsook her.
I won’t forsake her, not Fucking ever, period, fucking explanation point.
I will hold her close even if she is seething, spitting & vehement. Even if she is throwing temper tantrums, acting out or so terrified she is too frozen to talk or move. I will smooth her hair & wipe her tears. I will let her openly sob until she shakes all the trauma loose from her delicate body. No matter how long it takes. Even if her Process is not acceptable to others. Even if her timeline doesn’t meet others deadlines. I know the healing will occur in it’s own time, in it’s own way, in it’s own pace. She is fighting so hard to make it. Clawing & grasping & trying time & time again. There is method in her “madness”. There is Light at the heart of all darkness.
No one I know has lived her story or close to it. That is just the truth. She is a survivor for all those who didn’t make it. Who weren’t so lucky so that she may be their voice as well. She aims to speak their pains their Truths to shake society up through it’s own discomfort so the Truth will be heard & seen for all those other voices & dear, dear children who weren’t so lucky.
God so bless her. God bless her rage. God bless her em-power-ment. God bless her delicate, strong fucking fierce heart. She is courage. She is visceral. She is real. I love her dearly.
So be it! And so it is.