If I didn’t honor myself by returning to my past, and bringing vindication where I could, I would have been left abandoned. I would have abandoned myself.
I had to force myself to remember me.
Everything around me told me to stop seeking, stop turning over rocks. “Learn to live,” they would tell me. Didn’t they see that’s exactly what I was doing?
I understand now that my goals to uncover my past made them more uncomfortable than it made me. No one liked hearing my story. Not really. I’m not taking about just my family, I’m talking about friends, acquaintances and all the rest that happened along during the years.
Forget me not!
We are not being self-centered nor are we indulging in self pity when we uncover our past. It’s a way out of the forest of abandonment. Trees of denial and thickets of shame keep us hidden in darkness.
This is the house I grew up in until I turned four. That’s me in the background, three years old, peering out from behind the corner. I was raped on the couch this family is sitting on. The brick fireplace in the picture was my focal point during those brutal attacks.
In 11 months, I will witness a vicious rape and a senseless murder.
Don’t be alarmed for me. It’s over. I have honored my past by returning to it. I stayed as long as I needed to. To grieve. To witness. To heal.
Don’t let anyone stop you on your journey. There is an end point to the rainbow and a pot of gold is waiting.