I mean, I was already doing that for years, obviously, but that day I consciously chose that as my personal flag in the wastelands between creed and faith.
The truth of me is that I was willing to do anything it took to 'win' (emotionally survive) even if it meant chopping myself into pieces and cutting out my own heart. I have quite recently come to understand the command I received in the vision I titled a long dusty road, where I was tasked to go back over where I'd already been and find every piece I'd thrown away.
Imagine what that means to your sense of self. Imagine a part of you walling off, jailing, even murdering another part of you. Imagine hating what is soft and kind and good within yourself so badly that you literally tear it out of your way and close it up in a very dark place for a very long time, never allowing it to have an opinion or see a tiny ray of hope or forgiveness. Imagine suddenly finding yourself in a position years later where you need all that back asap just to save yourself from your own horrors.
The shock of being so brutal on my own self, of watching the rags crawl back out into sunlight, of feeling both sides and all the bits in between full of jagged pokey edges that no longer fit together, has been so overwhelming at times that I've felt lost, a wreckage smashing around aimlessly in the frothy jetsam.
Imagine learning to talk to all of myself again.
No comments:
Post a Comment