Ten Buckets

The hands that lighted the flame when I was in the dark, thank you. 

The hands that lifted me after I had fallen, thank you. 

The hands that held me while I cried, thank you. 

The hands that opened, thank you. 

The hands that closed tightly, I thank you. 

The hands that surprise me, thank you.

The hands that make, that do, that feed my soul thank you.

It's the time of year when people look back and forward. It's Janus. I have done so much backward forward that I've ended here, right where I belong. I am not surprisingly under blankets drinking coffee. I am alone for the first time in dad and the silence is nourishing.

There must come a place in healing when we really want the same thing we wanted during the entirety of our dysfunction: to explain fully and clearly how we were impacted, why it was traumatic, what we are doing to grow into the shadow. I use we here because I am not alone. I am not alone on the receiving end of abuse. I also know that I believe in the ultimate power of forgiveness and it is hard to forgive someone who is intangible, a ghost, a fragment of memories.

I also know there is accountability. How important it is. I know that. I understand why he thought he had the right to treat me and all of my belongings as things to be used, tossed out, worn thin. I understand why he thought he had to control me, my days, my time, and my mind. I understand how he doesn't understand that is not love or acceptance. I understand pain. 

There is also the undeniable reaction to trauma when a sensitive and intelligent human reaches their threshold. I am not angry. I am blessed. I am blessed to know that I am a sum of many parts, that I am strength incarnate, that my heart is tool, not a weapon. 

I love and am timid of the fierce nature of my passion. I embrace the flame that cleanses.

My heart always belongs,

CSL <3ingly