Cut Open

The last time we interacted, I shared a slight intro about the journey of the discovery of the self (https://sippingoncocktails.co.ke/2021/12/31/the-journey-of-discovering-the-self-part-1/). I had to read it again too, and now I smile as I finish it.

(Taking a deep breath) So raw, that was and will be…

I recognize that that part of me sits with me now, and I’m glad to say we got acquainted. I sat with her, my inner child, over the last two years, and she had a lot to say considering that I hadn’t listened to her in decades.

I hear her; I recognize her voice, her laughter, her tears, and her pain. We’ve sat together on numerous occasions, and I do recognize that I am home; I have always been. No matter how disorganized it is, it’s my own, and I have a whole lifetime to figure out what I want it to look like and what needs to go where.

The other side to this is that the world doesn’t stop when you are trying to crawl your way back to the living; it moves, and sometimes I hate that, but that’s the point: time goes by, chapter by chapter of the book is flipped, and if you are in a state of unlearning, learning, and healing, you’ve felt like just screaming, “STOP!!! Please, I need a minute or two. As a matter of fact, I need some time to just figure this out, and once I’m okay, I can participate in this world.”

To this day, there are moments where I sit with myself, and however grateful I am for everything the Almighty has brought forth in my journey, I just wish I had a blank slate button that reads, “Press to restart.”

So, I left…

And I unearthed a lot… *Trigger warning*

Those who’ve been through some form of trauma know that confronting them takes courage, energy, and effort, especially childhood trauma. I wish I could share all the details here, but I’ll save you the second-hand trauma. You’re welcome! (Or maybe that’s for another day 😉)

I recently faced a loss, one that feels raw and recent every time I breathe, but it proved that we humans are resilient as hell. It’s a wonder how we keep moving every day. Grief is a lesson and a teacher that each one of us will go through; it’s a matter of when and how you get acquainted with it, plus the story that you tell yourself while going through it.

I lost a parent. Some of you can resonate with the pain, whether it’s a caregiver, sibling, child, or loved one. My heart goes out to you because it takes a part of you with them—a sense of security and safety—and you feel as though you are facing the world bare.

My parents were strangers to me; we didn’t have a connection per se. I carried in my heart the faults, neglect, and scars that they left, and it was too late once they got their lives together.

I bring this up because I’m trying to resolve the feelings around what I’m about to say about my OWN experience, and this acts as a sounding board (so bear with me if I don’t want to hear anyone’s opinions concerning this unless you truly resonate).

My mind concluded that I was wrong or something was wrong with me very early on in life. I have navigated this life for the longest time with a perception of lack. This made sense to me because I couldn’t resonate with the idea that a parent would escape their reality (me being part of it) and live in their little bubble of addiction. Of course, now I know better, but it didn’t make sense to my child-self how other people had loving, stable parents and I had to parent mine. I had constantly heard of how they’d rather ”off” themselves than stand to live another day, that my friend is disheartening, and addiction is a sickness.

The pain is still fresh as I type this because it leaves something broken in me, and I don’t know if it’ll ever get healed, but I can say that I’m trying. If you have or have had a loved one who suffered from addiction, you understand the complexities of having a relationship with them, especially con la familia.

For me, it felt like my mom had two choices: me or a bottle, and she always chose a bottle until the day she chose herself, in turn, me and us. But that constant rejection got deeply rooted in me very early on, and it happened so many times that I internalized it to mean that I was not worth love, and that experience proved that yes, something was wrong with me. I felt immense guilt sometimes, but I always had a sense of rage in me that I’ve navigated this world with. I’ve been angry for the longest time, and I don’t know if it’ll ever go away, but resolving these feelings is a start.

I’m meant to be grateful, which I am. Trust me, I am. My parents are still my own, as are their other offspring. They did their best with what they had, but… away from the sanctification we are meant to have for our parents, doesn’t take away from the fact that their actions and choices left us with scars and wounds that will take a long while to navigate and heal from.

These experiences have robbed me of a lot of time.

A fantasy I had growing up was running back home to my mom’s arms and just feeling safe from the world, even from the smallest thing, and I did get a sense of this, her protection, in certain flashes of memories that I’m striving to get back to once I override my bad experiences and memories that have become deeply seated.

I did, however, give myself a piece of that fantasy. Whenever I’d find her napping, I’d just lay down next to her, close my eyes for a few minutes, take in her cocoa butter scent, listen to her breathing or snoring, depending on how tired she was, and just lay there next to her for a while. Those were the times that I felt invincible because she was there next to me and we were both at peace in each other’s presence.

I miss her, my mother; she was a queen in my eyes no matter what she was struggling with, and I hope she knew how fiercely I loved her. I wish I had told her more often than I did.

She was human too, and she had her crosses to bear. I can’t escape the rage I have within me, but I’m learning that opposing truths can exist in the same reality, and that’s okay.

I’ll never understand your life experiences, but I love you nonetheless. Happy anniversary, and I’m proud of you for ultimately choosing yourself. You’ve taught me how to as well.

Signed Anonymous