Trauma came and swept me off my feet, unexpectedly I was falling…falling. That’s how it works, it provides no notice. I was blindsided. In slow motion…unable to catch myself. Dropping slowly through time and as parts of me landed, I was scattered into tiny particles of sand. I was no longer myself, moved about and blown this way and that way by the smallest breeze.
I wanted to gather myself together, but how do you gather so many pieces when they are floating away in all different directions. I wanted be whole again. THEN REALITY HIT. I might never be whole again. A panic surged into me at the prospect of what that means.
Trauma isn’t new to me. It is like an old story on a broken record, it repeats itself over and over again. Yet no matter how much it happens I hope for a time when the needle will bounce just right…..sending my story on it’s way again. Hoping the rest of the record is free from scratches so I can move onto a beautiful song that is no longer impacted by repeats.
I would be in denial, my story has never been a smooth one. No matter how hard I have tried I have never been able to gather the parts of me that are tossed about by the weather. Those storms they have done their best to define me. People of the world… tey have opinions about what I am. I have heard it all… the good and the bad, the light and the dark. I used to lean on those opinions, I thought that what others saw must be real.
- She’s Negative
- Why can’t people in this building be happy like her?
- You are a failure, a sinner, she brought this upon herself.
- Loving, funny, friendly, kind, gentle.
- Now do you see why I have to get away from you? You are so difficult to live with. You can’t connect with people.
The messages so varied, so confusing.
Slowly over time the part of me that was solid, the part that was firm and stood unmoving. It was gone and only a shell stood in its place. No wonder when trauma hits and I fall the pieces scatter. There was nothing left to hold me together.
I have watched and waited and hoped. I have fallen on my knees begging for a break. Please don’t forsake me. Please make me whole again. And when the whole didn’t come. THE RAGE DID.
How could you do this to me?
Didn’t I mean something?
Anger becomes a part of me and the world gets cloudy and dark, and lonely. I wait in the silence of my thoughts, my hopes, me dreams that lay there empty…gone. The question that weighs on my soul. WHY ME? Why me? I wait for an answer that I’m not sure will ever come. I hear nothing… no longer the repeats…only deafening silence to keep me company.
Then somewhere in the distance moving closer….and closer…I hear it. The parts of me are speaking ever so quietly. A part of me over there reminding me that I am a good mother who loves her children deeply, and a part over there reminding me that I am funny and kind and loving. I can see all the parts, both the light parts and the dark parts. They are all here.
Then an awakening, all of those parts of me, they have spread themselves out and they are good. My empathetic part…it is two hours away with a friend who is hurting, and half way across the country my loving part is with an acquaintance who is falling…falling. I remind her that she is loveable and special and valuable. And I see….that it had to be. I had to be as moveable as the sands so that me….little ole me could reach farther than I ever imagined to sit with someone who is in the middle of their broken record. Being moveable and moldable so that God could use me was always my goal. And maybe being whole…always had a different meaning.