Believe it or not, one of the best things to come out of my healing journey has been gratitude. Being made an enemy, being treated as less than human, being attacked out of vile assumptions, being emotionally and financially abused….these have had their advantages.
For one thing, I have had to wrestle with my own naiveté. I always believed the good in people and had to come to grips with the darkness of human beings in the world who sincerely derive pleasure, either a rote addictive pleasure or a conscious gratification, from enacting suffering in others. This caused an awakening I did not want.
But the awakening was necessary. It was, and continues to be, a birth. I am being born again. I was put to sleep by childhood trauma. I betrayed what little of myself I knew. Constantly, over and over, I went against myself. I warred deeply within myself so others would not bear the burden of that war but it spilled over anyway, and I didn’t even know it. I was asleep, a walking dead, numb.
But deep pain and severe mental abuse have a way of waking you up. Using your tears and your heart and becoming vulnerable to soften someone doesn’t always work. Some people simply cannot see your humanity. So you have to adapt, since a wall like that will break your world apart. And it did. It broke me out of my sleep. It was like being smashed over the head with a pottery jar at waking-up time. It forced me into a realm of pain I didn’t understand, didn’t want to know, didn’t see so well.
Waking up was hard. I lost weight. I cried, pleaded, begged for the fucked-up-ness to be maintained. As dehumanizing as it was, it was stable and consistent. Stable and consistent dysfunction. What I’d always known. I read a lot to know something else, to let intellect penetrate my heart, to let feelings surface and hide, to know what kind of animal I was dealing with.
It was hard. And now, although awake and aware, I am not comfortable. In fact, I am still being targeted, still being fucked with, still having to push back such a brazen example of personal patriarchy it’s inhuman.
But I am free. I no longer feel the stitch, the piercing twinge of dread at hearing his car in the driveway, of sleeping with someone who has become a disappointing “I never knew you could be this way.” I am free to sleep in my own bed, care for my body as I see fit, eat good food without comment, do art projects without criticism, live my life with joyful abandon. I experience grace, even though I am still wearing the wounds of the graceless…I am aware that I do not always expect grace from others, but I can and I am in delight. I am celebrated and loved in my circles. I am surrounded by real-life angels, women who give everything to help me back into my power. I am humbled and so incredibly grateful for this journey.
Once you see, you can’t unsee. My life is only a microcosm of patriarchy, of neoliberalism, of colonialism. There are many, many places where people are still asleep. They often cannot handle the awakened or their own awakening.
This is rapture, this is bliss, to be lost and now found, to be beaten down and now standing up, to be imprisoned and now loosened, to be complicit in my own oppression and now taking a stand against it.
This is what I was made for, what we were all made for.
I am such an awesome bitch. I am a total fucking cunt-bitch. I am FREE.