Everything is conspiring to keep me from writing about this…
…
Lately, I have wondered what I would be like if I could stop existing so much in the past. I am always divided… two people. I am moving through the world as my present self, but under constant attack by an inner child, so enraged and powerless, it overwhelms the sense of the world around me.
A large part of that child was left at the bottom of a lake… his urgent burning need for air… the terror of having to take that breath, and only pungent, silty water to answer the call. Nothing else can exist in that moment. A moment that will not pass… a moment from which I will not be released. I am down there with him now, as I write this. His inward facing rage pulls him under again, and again… and again...
I think of what I could accomplish, if I could just stay "in the now" without the effort of becoming present being so exhausting. What must it be like to be normal?… always present? Who would I be?
The chain of the anchor lead echoes a dull rattle-thud against the astro-turf-like carpet on the deck of the boat as the anchor plunges down… then… as the lead ends… silence. There is a splash… bigger than an anchor… the child turns to look, but only bubbles.
Back to the present… the surface. Why do I keep going back there… do I think I can save him this time?
… why do I keep coming back?
My heart goes out to "both" of you. To the adult, "What must it be like to be normal?... always present? Who would I be?" I have asked those questions and felt like tantruming, "It's not fair!" I wish I could give the child clear fresh air and a feeling of safety. The child has every right to be enraged, afraid, and sad. The child deserves comfort and caring.
River Rabbit this poem really resonates with me. I fight the memories too. I hate the flashbacks and intrusive thoughts. It can make it feel like a losing battle. Thanks for posting this and for putting words to this struggle for me. I'm jealous of the people that don't know this feeling :Idunno:
Thanks for the responses... it was a bit truncated, I know... but I was having a hard time just sitting down to type it out.
It is one of many memories I keep getting dragged back in to... this one from when I was 5.
I was playing with an anchor on my uncle's new boat. The anchor had not been tied in yet (only a lead chain... attached to nothing). I was curious what the anchor would look like in the water and dropped it over the side.
My uncle must have seen this, and immediately dove in after it. All I saw were bubbles in the water. He did not come back up. I thought he was joking around like he always did... so I laughed.
My other uncle and father dove in after him once they realized he was not coming back up... they had a very hard time finding him.
Ultimately, they blamed me for killing him... the whole family did... I blamed me.
The family was already unhealthy and abusive before this... I just gave them an attractive target to focus on.
Nothing wrong with a five-year-old being curious. What happened was not your fault. At all. Not your fault.
Aw honey! It's not your fault! How can you blame a 5 year old?!?! They were wrong to blame you! Please try to shed the blame too
How can they put the blame on you!? :pissed: :pissed: at them
Beautifully written River Rabbit, your words really resonated with me. In my case allowing younger me to express herself - the anger, sadness and grief was a big part of resurfacing. The other part was inviting her to have fun, to express joy and curiosity and creativity to balance the pain. I don't know what would give those positive feelings to younger you, but it may be something to think about trying. :Idunno: