A Quiet Peace of Afterlife

I have never thought of myself as a victim. I have always been a fighter, a hustler, a “can do” kind of girl. Growing up I thought of my circumstances as quite harsh. Having my mother die when I was three and all the things that subsequently happened made me the thick-skinned, rebounding, plan B, "I don't care what you think about me," A-type person I’ve become. People are amazed that when they've only thought three steps down the road, I've thought down the road to its fork, taken both ways to check them out and figured out which one is best. Exhausting as that may seem, those steps were the key to my survival. They allowed me to forsee any possible doom. And doom was always present.

But if you're lucky - or at least alive and life becomes good or maybe just better, you don’t have to think that far down the road, your mind is left to ponder other futures and sometimes even the past. My surroundings now don’t have as much drama, or twists or forks in the road. So with not as much to cloud it or occupy every waking moment with how to survive, my mind led me to the very victim that I am – that I was. And in the quiet peace of my current surroundings, in the love and nurturing that I found, the little girl felt safe enough to face the torment. Because she knew it wasn't here to stay. It was "stopping by" on a request from my need to heal. It is so strange and wonderful how the mind protects us!

Growing up, I remember days when I would plot and plan to run away only to be scared out of going through with it - fearing more what might happen if I were caught than what life alone in the world would be like. I couldn’t wait the long time it would take for me to grow up to change my circumstances. There were times when I half-heartedly tried to kill myself. I would take 20 or 30 aspirin and a shot of my father’s scotch, throwing up as the drink scorched the inside of my esophagus on its way down - – can’t die if you can’t keep the poison in! I remember not knowing where to turn for help, but knew that there were times when a grown up would look at me, knowing something was wrong, but saying nothing. If they were helpless, then what did they think I was?

But once I grew up, I unwittingly spent the better part of my early adulthood fighting or maybe struggling is a better word. Because the torment doesn't end when your chronology gets you out of the house. It just shows up in the bad choices, the crippling depression and -- in your nightmares - nightmares that are brutal and cruel and revealing because remember it is your mind working to protect you. So you continue to fight the people who long ago threw you away. Even though you are grown, you don't win - you have to stop fighting and let go. In a way, its like the child – it has to tire out until there is no more fight. But sometimes, it is so hard to see that. Sometimes, it takes a little more time, maybe some therapy and a quiet peace that can be found in the words, "But I love you anyhow." When that happens, your mind can rest, the nightmares become only bad dreams - what a relief! But then, the child inside no longer needs to fight or hustle or figure out what is just beyond the bend in that forked road. That child can cry because it is safe. Quiet peace enables you to deal with unfinished business. Somewhere in my subconscious – and I say this having no real understanding of what that is – only that these memories were somewhere hiding inside of me waiting in the corners of my mind for the right time to come out and play in a quiet peace.