I know the tenderness of an old wound. The translucent scars dotting the body like open invitations for touch. Ive felt the harsh grasp of an unkind word as it wrapped itself tightly around these not so private spots. A weird mix of pride & shame that comes from these odd trophies. I own them like a sick possesion or do they own me?
Last night it seemed the latter. An overactive mind brings to surface the worst of fears in the midst of sleep. So much so that had my weeping been audible I would have woke the neighbors.Instead I woke myself.
That all too familiar feeling which had set the stage for the worse of my memories...... rejection!
Now it seems easy to put a word to it, but there was a time when the only thing that spoke of my pain was the wounds on my body. I wanted to be free of it, but it calls me back in the form of dreams & aching memories. This need to be seen & heard. To be something to someone. Was this normal? Was this the way everyone felt? Would they admit it if it was?
There are times when I feel very young & the fear is more than this little girl can take. It seems like a wave that might overtake me at any moment. A temptation that I might not be able to withstand. A cry that will well up inside me & drown out every other thought. How instinctively I run to hide myself from the face of it.
This is not me! This is not all I am!
Yet under the cover of sleep I fear it is........