Wednesday, 4 February 2015

Don't Fuck with My little Child

Thank God I had therapy yesterday afternoon. I sat in my bucket chair in my therapist's office and talked and cried and talked. I felt like I was in a cocoon where I could finally allow all the very sore stuff that I've known is around me to just land. It came to me then, in a trembling, inarticulate, almost mute way. And I cried. And she just held that place for me and let me. And soothed me. And reminded me that this is 5 year old me, finally just allowing the pain I've been running from for over 40 years to just land. In a way that 47 year old me could hold. And tolerate. And feel without breaking.

And I think I finally got to feel how it must be for me to hold that little broken girl part of me. Not banish her. Or humiliate her by making her feel wrong for just being 5. But just hold her deeply close to me and love her. Soothe her. Help her know that I will never abandon her again.

I abandoned her yesterday. I let Berlin get away with a vicious and cruel attack on her. In a moment where her deep need to feel held surfaced, I sent yesterday's blog to him. He misread it. Misunderstood it. Sent me back a long and brutal rebuke. I took it - humiliated that I had allowed him to see that vulnerable moment of mine. Angry with myself for being so needy. Reversing out of his life so quickly I felt myself spinning. Was embarrassed. Wanted to explain. Distance myself from that needy and love-craving child. Abandoned her. Made her feel wrong. Rebuked myself for being too much. Needing too much. Making a nuisance of myself.

But she helped me imagine a different angle on it. What if that little girl was a real person, separate from me? A little girl. My daughter. Bruised. Beaten. Raped. Abandoned and alone in her cupboard.What would I do if Berlin had said those things directly to her? Pushed her away like she was worthless. Undeserving of the time and care she needed to heal. Unwanted. Badly behaved. A nuisance. Not conforming to the picture that he had of how she should be.

Well I'd beat the living shit out of him, wouldn't I? I'd fiercely ban him from ever coming close to her again. I'd show him what batshit crazy really looked like and make sure he never forgot, ever again. And then I'd turn my back on him and sweep her into my arms. And hold her so so close. And tell her that I know how much she's hurting. And that it's ok. And that I would hold her close every time she hurt like that. Until the hurt goes away.

And then I'd tell her I'm so sorry for letting that hard man so close to her that he could harm her. And reassure her that  she wasn't wrong to think that maybe he would care for her a bit. That needing love and care for so very long makes anyone reach for it with yearning if it feels nearby. That she wasn't wrong. And that I would give her all the love she needs, and she won't have to try to get it from any other man, ever again.

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