Counting On Me

tumblr_m7p5tjhpyo1rbwt73o1_500Aaaa! I’m so frustrated today.  When you don’t know what you’re missing, you don’t know what you’re missing.  Obvious statement I know, but it’s become all too close to the forefront of my mind today.  To be cared for, to be loved… you might as well be speaking Dutch.  I don’t think I know a single word of Dutch.  In the same, I only speak a few words of this language people call “love.”  I just don’t understand it.  I want to understand it, but I don’t.  Life was much simpler when I lived in isolation– when I took care of myself, never asking for help, never looking for community support.  I’m not saying it was a better life, but it was simpler.

As I continue to heal, as I continue to become “healthier,” I learn more and more about what I haven’t had.  An ache that we’re all born with is being reignited in my soul.  A desire to be taken care of, protected, loved, appreciated and honored is long since something I’ve done away with.  Those desires have been safely suffocated by years of neglectful layers.  I had all but fully convinced my fiercely independent self that I had absolutely no need for such childish aspirations.

Yet… here comes God and His crafty intervention, ever asking for personal improvement.  With the community I have now, I find myself getting tastes of what I’ve missed, and I find myself wanting more.  Dammit.  Against all my dedicated attempts, I find myself wanting love.  I remember the specific moment in my life when I promised myself I would never desire such a vulnerable thing again.  I had been hurt, rejected, let down and taken advantage of for an infinite number of times and I decided at that point to be totally self-soothing.  I would never again need any help from any person, no care, no acceptance of affection from another human being ever again.  I had me and that was all I knew I could handle.  “Me” was the only person I knew I could count on.  “Me” was the only entity that I thought wouldn’t cause me pain.

Fast forward to today and I find myself faced with quite the contradiction.  My heart wants to be cared for but my mind does not trust it.  It’s torture.  I also realize the confusing dichotomy that rules which applied to my old life, do not necessarily apply to my new life…. meaning that because people could not be trusted then, does not mean that people cannot be trusted now.  They’re not the same people, I’m not the same person… really, nothing is the same.  Yet, I still find myself fighting.  I want to spend an hour in the hug of a friend I trust, and yet I will literally hate myself for even the want to do so.

And so my journey continues.

May this blog serve as an education to those who do not yet know or understand the atrocities of trafficking and may it serve as an encouragement to those who understand it all too well.

(Post originally written 12/05/12)

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5 Comments

  1. Nik

     /  December 22, 2012

    Perhaps this will both encourage you to keep track of the many blessings God has so joyfully bestowed upon you and help you to realize His eternal love and never ending presence in your life.

    http://www.personalprayerpower.com/php/100prayers.php

    Hang in there Kiddo, He has tremendous plans and even more beautiful blessings for you in the days to come.

    Reply
  2. Nik

     /  December 14, 2012

    The Nurses

    I can hear them in there, laughing,
    the nurses on the children’s cancer ward,
    as I walk through, my heart snagged
    on a child in room 206, the boat of my hopes
    tipping its freight into the water,
    because kids in here are dying,
    like trees turning in the fall
    so slowly that we have to dwell
    on each interval of suffering.
    The door opens a slice and I see nurses
    leaning into laughter, collapsing,
    gripping each other’s arms. Their laughter
    skates on air, it fills the room up,
    it towers above us. I shut the door.
    They laugh because grief adheres to them
    as desire adheres to beautiful women.
    They have to pick it from their fur. They
    have to help each other comb it out.
    They study jokes as farm girls study
    dresses in a catalogue. They balance
    on a high beam of laughter, knowing
    if they laugh they might come back tomorrow.

    Reply
  3. Cici

     /  December 12, 2012

    Thank you for writing, your blog makes a difference even when it doesn’t feel like it. This is off topic and has probably been asked before… Is there a specific non-profit that you work with or trust for others to donate to? Thanks

    Reply
  4. Becca

     /  December 6, 2012

    Amazing vulnerability and truth. Yes, trusting again takes TIME and IS possible.

    Reply

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