Rescued from the fire:
myself
In the hours following our life after the fire, one of our ministers and our friend said words to me that have stuck, “I am praying that God gives you peace in ordering your attachments.” This is a comfort. I still can’t shake the thoughts of ordering my attachments and the humbling, strangely holy ground of having my physical attachments and intangible attachments tossed in my front yard and strewn across ashes and sitting on mildewed stenchy floors or standing in my neighbor’s yard shoeless while trying to figure out what else I left behind in that house.
A few days ago I texted about this prayer of ordering my attachments, “This process is gut-wrenching and humbling, and I truly believe it passed through His hands to leave some things behind and to heal from some pain that is intangible. I am struggling to not pull back and to literally back away from people who are loving me because of fear of letting so many down. I struggle daily with worrying about people tiring of my crap but somehow left my ability to hide my pain in that house.” Honestly, I am struggling to not pull away from myself and my joys and pains.
Susie Morgan, LMFT on her Facebook Page noted, “Sometimes – too often really – those of us with complex/developmental trauma find ourselves feeling more alone the more we heal and grow. Despite the presence even of a partner or friends or family – the patterns in these relationships remain so much like they have since the beginning of our lives. Once we are able to grasp that our longings to be seen, comforted, supported, protected are normal and human and fully reasonable – we are faced with the challenge of requesting those close to us to grow with us OR deciding to grow despite them. These moments – choosing to champion ourselves – to become our own security – are courageous but can also be enormously heartbreaking if those around us choose otherwise…..” [emphasis added]
Maybe on May 6, I left my ability to hide my pain in that fire. My longing “to be seen, comforted, supported, protected” became “normal and human and fully reasonable.” (Susie Morgan).
I remember standing in the smoke inches from those flames and wondering what am I forgetting.
I was terrified of forgetting someone or something. I couldn’t remember who was home. I floundered in all my childhood homes (and there were many) wondering which bad guy to run past or how to save myself and who to save or if anything was worth saving if I wanted to stay alive. I wondered if all the choices were worth it, if I was worth it, or if it was all too much. Choices of decades and days past rushed through me. What would make this end…fighting, being still, getting smaller, hiding, or running away? There were choices to be made and trusting that it was as bad as I thought was what could rescue me. I could rescue me.
Maybe what I was doing was choosing, choosing to trust myself choosing to walk away meant choosing to live.
I stood in my living room unable to see the ceilings wanting desperately for someone else to choose my life at that moment. I wanted to wait for my Donnie to get home. I couldn’t be sure of anything. This has literally been the story of my life. I looked into the depths of a neighbor’s eyes as she demanded I leave my home, in those moments and said, “It is really bad, right?” She yelled yes and gave me instructions, a list of sorts, to shake me out of having to choose. I chose to live by walking away. My first order of attachments began shortly before 7 pm on May 6th, 2018 when I chose to leave hiding in that house and to see myself and begin trusting myself.
Rescued from the fire:
myself
this beautiful hand-lettered painting created by my precious bonus daughter Alex Pike.
I am choosing me today and letting others choose me. I am ok, I guess.
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