Something worth waiting for

"Waiting
standing still
holding my breath
till I'm told to exhale"

It's been a long time since I felt this calm. It seems as though someone pushed a giant pause button allowing me time and room to breathe. Funny. Just a handful of years ago, this was exactly what I asked for. I'm reminded of things I've written over the years. Journals during and after therapy. Times when I used to wake up at 4 am with the sudden need to get whatever thought was circling non-stop in my brain out on paper. It always brought me a brief sense of calm. But it was only ever a glimpse into what I'm experiencing now. Now is a time for quiet reflection. A small assessment of where I've been and how far I've come.

Seconds after writing this I dug out the old journals and papers. Smudged and torn, stored away in an old notebook. Out of sight, but never out of mind. After reading through them, I realize this calm I've been presented with is a gift. Just another in a long line of amazing insights I've been given in the last few months.

The following excerpts seem particularly important. Every day I am amazed by where the past five years have taken me, and these passages have revealed to me that on some level, I always knew where I was going.

2005-2006 Writings

"I wish that I could go to sleep and wake up happy."

"I remember when I first started to remember. The shock of everything rushing back because I let a drop of what "was" in. But actually, it didn't rush. It was almost unbearably slow. And I knew in my gut that there was more. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't see it. What sticks out in my mind most is the day I started feeling. I had to remember a bad sensation in order to let myself feel all the good ones. I remember: I woke up. And it hit me- like truth. And I knew... And I felt sick. My eyes got very wide. And then I tried to shut it off again. I turned over, put my face in my pillow and I tried. Tried to flip the switch. To NOT feel. But it was too late. I knew everything now. That was the day I decided:

The only way is Forward.

I realized that you can know something every day of your life. But it's not real until you feel it. To feel something allows it to be a part of you. A part of your essence. Your being. A part of everything you will ever be.

It was my best and worst day. The day I first felt."

"Even now, writing this, tears come to my eyes. One day they won't. I believe this. There will be a day when I will tell my story with perfect clarity and no sadness. Not because I'm in denial of my feelings. But because I will have allowed myself to feel all the pain and sadness I have in me. I will have expressed it and accepted that I could really feel that badly. And I will have peace. The peace that can only come when you give yourself the freedom to fall apart. Because only when you're free to fall apart are you free to truly heal. You don't get to choose which risk you take. That would be too easy. You have to risk losing all of who you are to become someone great. There were laws I used to live by: Don't date. Don't leave a mediocre job. After all, it pays the bills. Don't get married. And if you do, don't expect it to be a successful marriage. Don't have children- you'll only screw them up. And don't make new friends. No one deserves to be exposed to your own private version of hell.

Pretty bleak. But the hardest decision I ever made was to risk losing all of that- the person I was- to become someone I could be proud to be."

"Pain is not everything I am anymore. Fear is not everything I am anymore. I am not just a rape victim. I am not just a victim of child molestation. I am not just a child who saw more than any child should see. That shield kept the pain from coming in. But it also kept me from coming in. I've been living outside of my own world for nearly 2 decades now and I'm ready to get back in. I'm ready to take control of my body and treat it well. Remind it that not every man is going to hurt it. Teach myself that there are some men I can trust. That I can let them into my world too and they won't try to rip it apart. I am ready to live without training wheels. I am ready to tear down the walls and drain the moat that surrounds me. I'm ready to burn down the fence and simply own a good guard dog. I'm ready to be me. Actually me. The whole me. With my past hurts, my present fear, and my future hope. I am ready to be off "pause." I am ready to finish healing."