Good afternoon. To apprise you of my current situation, I had an appointment with my surgeon this morning and my road to healing shall be a long one.
I am on HRT, which was slightly increased today, as the sweating and hot/cold is still fairly prominent. I go in next week, in office and under anesthesia, for injections to my pelvic floor. These are the injections I spoke of that did not get done in surgery.
My surgeon sat down together, with Tamara an I a couple of weeks ago, and again today with just she and I. Tears and hugs and apologies at our first meeting. Today, after hugs, we forged ahead with a plan. We, my surgeon and I, seemed to heal and heal each other in ways unspoken. There was no need for many words. As I sit here, I feel the words leaving my body…as if to say the time has come for me to listen.
Reliving the trauma that got me here has been unsettling and painful. I have definitely lost my way in all of the pain and blame and fear. The severity of my abuse has literally locked my body down, in an effort to defend itself. For over 40 years, when I was not cracked open against my own will or drunk enough to fuck, my body is on lockdown. As you can imagine, all of these years of locking down and clamping shut have taught my body only one thing, to clamp down and lock myself safe inside. In order to interrupt and train my body to do something different; I am going to have to have these injections once a month, under anesthesia, until I can do it otherwise. Additionally, I am going to have to see an oriental pain specialist twice a week for a couple of hours each session, indefinitely. Once the injections begin to do their job and I can tolerate it, I will be referred for PT, and I can’t even speak of that right now. Truly, no words for the journey I am embarking upon, in an effort to be well and pain free and happy and whole….the journey of my life. I just walk through the fire to stop the flames for once and for all. I must scream with all of my might to silence the echos screaming inside myself.
Incest and sexual abuse have left their mark upon me alright. I’ve the scars and the pain and the dysfunction to prove it. I’ve the broken heart of a daughter who lost her Mom and the longing for things that once were, even though, I don’t think I do really. My heart cannot break free of my mind for long enough to make sense of it all.
At first I was overwhelmed and disheartened, scared and reluctant. Today I surrendered, in the cemetery, as I baptized myself in my Moms fountain. I wiped my face and drenched my hair and then her pretty face with my tears and I sat for quite a spell. I baptized my malas In her fountain and I recited and prayed as I wept. I left the cemetery today differently than I came in. It’s almost as though I left my voice there…like I’ve nothing much to say.
I wish to read and reflect, meditate and be still. As I swished my head from side to side and I let the water fly from my hair, I crawled up into my FJ and Johnny Lang was playing. I wiped my tears and sat a spell, to attempt to comprehend what had just taken place. This baptism, this commitment to my own healing…This void…literally all I can call it…empty space so full that it consumes and dismantled me, piece by piece, as I wake each day to another death of my Mom.
I am reading Ram Dass and Hermann Hesses, Siddhartha. I am frozen and captivated and alive and waking up. I am old and new and young and old. I am here. I am not there. I am today, not tomorrow. I wash myself clean if the illusions that deceive me and I surrender to my journey to heal the wreckage left behind by a sick and violent lineage. I forgive the hands that hurt me and I arise anew from my ashes. And so it is.
Thank you for being here. You give me strength for the journey, light in my darkness and love when I need it most. I love you and I thank you, with all of my heart for carrying me through this. Today, I literally begin again. I am humbled. I am blessed. I am thankful. I am because you are. I love you.