Enjoy the silence?

There is a quietness that has taken over me. It's not really an internal quiet as much as it has settled over my mouth and my heart like duct tape. My experiences exist only inside and that is a new thing for me. For so long I have been able to share every second of my day with anyone that is willing to listen but now, nothing but silence. There have been many appropriate and sometimes useful times when sharing more of me could have been helpful to a situation or even to someone else and I just don't have it in me to do it. I've recreated my life, and not one moment of it includes my past or my problems. It's like this fake life where I am only successful, well-liked and the poster child for stability. Anyone that has read this blog for any length of time will know that none of those are characteristics that anyone would likely use to describe me, but in this new life I am constantly praised for my stability, level head and calm nature.

What? The? Hell ?

I am so afraid to share myself for fear of last year happening all over again. It seems my mouth is the one constant in every failure in my life. I don't share the tough stuff, I don't acknowledge the bad things and I fill every second of my day with something that has nothing to do with me. 

Am I happy? 

No. I feel like it's all one big lie. My fake life is wonderful though. So many great people, new friendships, a social life, etc. All really great people. What if they find out about me though? What if the bad things come back? What if the fear that I am expressing right now isn't illogical? I just don't get how this all came to be. I don't know myself anymore. 

There isn't anything bad happening. I am not a wreck. I am completely safe. I have so much happiness and joy. But it's not balanced. Nothing is in harmony. The other shoe isn't going to drop, I'll put money that it explodes. And I don't even dare want to make that change. Ignorance can be bliss. 

Nugget, Understanding...Obvious

I've spoken many times before about my love for Nugget. He is what perfection really looks like. Nuggs is 19 months old now and every day is more rewarding. He's been walking for a long time now, so there is more running than there is walking. He is talking, developing his sense of humor and connecting with me as a person and not so much as the needy infant that he was. Despite his new independence, his ability to verbalize versus whine or cry, he is still cuddly and quiet and loves being with me.

We have this unique, special and wonderful relationship now. He understands that I come and my time with his is limited and it's as if he savors the time we spend. He is polite, calm, curious and eager to explore the world with me. His face lights up, he dances with "happy feet", hugs me and says "Thank you" each morning I arrive. We spend time coloring, learning, trying new things and our most favorite...reading. Nugget can recognize all of the letters of the alphabet, count to ten and has a vocabulary that astonishes me each day. His favorite color is currently blue, his favorite number is nine and on the top ten songs he likes "Young Blood" by The Naked and Famous, "Home" by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, "Rolling in the Deep" by Adele, and "Spectrum" by Florence and the Machine. He obviously has good taste. This kid is smart. His sense of humor is rooted in silliness and sarcasm. In the past I have worked with some wonderful children, but Nugget has exceeded all expectations. I hope I can one day have a child as wonderful as he is.

I care about this little guy so darn much that some days it's overwhelming and I find myself completely strung out on amazement. I can leave work with a smile on my face and a deepening sadness that one day soon he will no longer be a part of my life. That sadness turns to heartache which then melts down into my stomach and causes it to churn. This is what love really is. I have loved other children, I have loved my family and some friends. The love I have for Nugget is different. It's maternal and deep. It's the kind of love that feels almost new every day, when you wake up in suprise because you can't believe how blessed you are to know someone. Even on the rough days I can still feel the excitement that it's really mine, this love I have is capable, strong and honest.

Through loving Nugget I find that I am stirring up the past, learning through our relationship how easy it honestly is to love a child and how much sickness and anger would have to happen to harm a child. More specifically there is not one thing, one feeling, one moment that could ever cause or even tempt me to act out against him. I become more and more baffled by my parents existence, more sickened by the level of their beyond comprehension abuse and in awe of my survival. Nugget is almost 30lbs, he's kind of tall I suppose for his age, he wears 24 month size clothing. I am ENORMOUS to him. He does everything I do because he wants to be like me, everything. I am some big, amazing, miraculous person that comes to love him, teach him and create a magical world for him to thrive in.

I was him one day, only there was no "me" that came into my life. Nugget is accepting and he doesn't hold a grudge. There have been days when I have been exhausted or sick and have had a short temper with him. Nothing major but I may have walked away from him when he was whining instead of trying to solve the problem. I may have spoken too sternly a time or two, but none of that messes with our connection. What it must take to destroy that inside of a child is beyond me. The lengths I would have to go to to make the Nugget wary of me or even scared of me are things my brain cannot go to. My parents, were big at one time. I was trusting at one time too. How do you do what they did? How do you hurt someone so tiny, defenseless and unconditionally loving? Was it easy for them? Did they feel anything? Did they ever regret and wish they had a do over?

Over Christmas I stayed at Tessa's house with my nephew. He is nuts. Little E is out of control and needs some serious help. Another post. Anyway, I had been there for several days and he was really excited to have me and his excitement led to a lot of acting out. A lot of nap-less afternoons and a lot of early mornings. By Christmas Eve I was EXHAUSTED. We went to church which was important but Lil E hasn't been to a Catholic service since he was like 2. My BIL had picked the church and we were all a little apprehensive of Lil E's ability to not be a total jerk the whole time. He was good until the priest asked all the children to come up to the alter for a little children's liturgy. Lil E wanted to go so I went up with him where he decided he didn't want to stay. He grabbed on to my neck and gave this look that he was about to explode into tears at any moment. I asked him to sit and told him I would sit with him. He just threatened me to explode and after a couple minutes of intense embarrassment I grabbed him by the waist and carried him back kinda pissed. He smiled the whole walk back. I was ashamed of my reaction to him. It shouldn't have been a big deal. I think I was more angry at his manipulation than him not wanting to be up there. It was ridiculous. I think most parents would probably have reacted that way.

Anyway, all that was to say that little tiny thing has been causing me a great deal of shame and anxiety ever since it happened and it's not even a really big deal. Lil E doesn't remember it so why am I so focused on it? And how can something so minor effect me and the things my mother did mean nothing to her? It's wild to me to finally grasp just how messed up one must be to inflict pain and suffering on their child. This proably is all very obvious, but it was a breakthrough to me.

Smelly?

Above are just a few random highlights since this past weekend. The last 48 hours have been challenging, mostly work related and mix that in with a little of my Christmas-ick and ugh, I'm tired. 

Little E stayed with me from Saturday until yesterday (Tuesday) morning. It was a lot of fun most of the time. I've missed having him in my daily life, although I admit it was more challenging to incorporate him than I had anticipated. He is turning into a truly delightful, creative, intelligent and curious little person. More and more it becomes a gift to spend quality time with him, just to hear him chat. Something unexpected came up though. A few visits with him ago I had noticed in a fleeting moment that his smell was familiar, in an uncomfortable way. You know how everyone just kind of has their own smell? Especially kids? The first time I noticed it there was this flurry of panic in my stomach but that particular day I shoved it aside and continued to play Batman with him. I had tucked it away. 

On Sunday night I was playing with Little E, I think we were playing hide and seek or something and he came running towards me and leaped into my arms and planted a big kiss on my cheek. I smelled it again. He smells EXACTLY like one of my abusers, which isn't a stretch because we're all related. It was shocking to say the least. In the moment I quickly reminded myself that I as holding my beautiful nephew, my safe, kind adorable nephew who just happens to be a boy with the same smell as someone not so great. The power my brain had to separate that out so quickly was amazing, but it was still unsettling. Has anyone else had this experience? How did it go for you? 

Nonsensical Experiences.

This week was terribly busy and I had a lot on my mind. Earlier this week I was conducting interviews with potential new hires for the crisis center. I met some interesting characters, one in which brought me back to place in my life that I don't ever really want to revisit. She was talking about some dynamics that I used to be weighed down by. In that moment all I could do was empathize with her and hope that if we do decide to allow her in that she knows how to use self-care like a beast. 

Anyway, long after she left I was writing my recommendation and I realized that I can no longer remember my fathers voice. It startled me and I began to dig in my brain, trying to pull anything out. Nothing came. In a panic I dug around some more, trying to recall other things and I realized that pieces of my past are slipping through my fingers. Some moments are startlingly vivid and others are fading like old newspapers sitting in the sun. They are fading and the contrast is too high to pull anything all that significant out of them. And then things like my Dad's voice...so far off that I can't grasp it at all. Does this mean anything? 

Further thought led me to some other startling realizations. I have a hard time remembering what it's like to be the patient in a therapeutic relationship. I have 180 hours of counseling hours logged now and I haven't been in therapy since September of 2009. I wonder how different it would be now if I were sitting in therapy with Therapist, knowing what I know about being on this side. I don't remember what it feels like to care so much about therapy. What I do remember of it isn't the best and I feel repulsed by considering it ever again. Therapist and I have a very different relationship these days, rare check-ins and very little about deep thoughts or feelings. It's just surface level catch up. Strange. 

I cannot remember what it was like to truly want to die either. I do, but I don't. It's like it registers the same way a really old photograph registers. You know it was you, you can remember a few details and the more occasions you look at it the more you remember only what the picture shows. When I speak with truly suicidal individuals I don't reflect on my experience at all. Not even after. 

I realized that everything I thought adulthood meant was from a child's perspective. An abused child's perspective. I saw my parents from a child's eyes. Now that I realize just how little adults actually know about life, I have very little understanding of what they did to me. Everything is being redefined in my head...all because I cannot remember my Dad's voice. It's like things are constantly shifting. Each day is new, interesting, challenging and then I go to bed. Then it starts all over again. 

I want to do something on this new journey, something big. I just don't know what it is yet. 

So this is Christmas...

This year flew by and as wild as the ride has been, its been mostly good. When I logged onto my blog tonight I nearly squealed when I realized that I hadn't blogged since October. What the what? In some ways that makes me pretty darn sad, in others it's kind of nice to have that distance from myself, my thoughts and the darker times I experience. Notice I said "times", because in all honesty it's pretty rare these days. Somehow my blog still impacts people; the journey has resonated with some and when I am contacted by someone about what I've written I feel an obligation to come back because my journey isn't over. Maybe there is still something left? When I say "obligation" I don't mean that negatively. I feel as though this blog has served a very important purpose in my life, what is written here is a testimony to a life that was not lost...a life that overcame and is now on a real journey of living...not just surviving. 

Ladies and gentlemen, on November 30th I put up my Christmas tree. I put it up BEFORE December and not because I had, I wanted to. 

That particular day was a total pain to commute, traffic was a nightmare both in the morning and the evening and I needed some cheering up. This is the first time in my LIFE in which putting a Christmas tree was an actual highlight, not a "pretend to be happy and normal" moment. You guys, this was pretty flipping big. I bought egg nog, cookies and I played freaking Christmas carols as I decorated my little 3 foot tree and it was FUN. I guess that is a normal experience for most but this year I didn't think twice about it, the tree didn't bring up any awkward or sad feelings and I was enjoying the lights instead of cringing. I didn't even recognize the change until I was on the phone with Therapist and she asked how I was doing with the holiday season. For real. This felt like a really big deal in that moment. Small, but amazing miracles. 

I may have mentioned in a previous post that my sister is pregnant. She is due at the end of April and it's another boy. Did I also mention back then that I am SO FLIPPIN' EXCITED? My sister and my relationship has been growing over the past six months insanely. She has completely cut my mother out of her life and she has begun to go to a church that I found close to her home. She wants to change her life and she wants to know the God that I know. This all starting transforming over the summer when she picked up the book I had given her last year for Christmas "Hind's Feet on High Places".  Finally faith began to make sense to her. She saw the change in me and she wanted that change as well. At first she didn't know what the difference was but now she does...and it's good. She has also started taking Lil E to children's church and she has a great desire to raise this new baby in the church. I can't even tell you how much this means to me. It's true, with God, anything is possible. 

So yeah, that is all the good and awesome sauce kinda stuff in my life. How are you? 

Love to all,
 P.S. Another post coming right up.