It's pouring rain this morning. The water is fairly still and if I weren't such a baby, I'd be out there fishing.
Perfect time to catch fish.
A friend sent me a note yesterday talking about the depths in which some of us are comfortable exploring.
There are those who snorkel, she said, and those who won't even put their face in the water. And then there are the scuba divers.
I'm definitely doing some serious scuba diving here.
The weather has me bummed. I had a hard time getting the fire lit this morning and the dash to the outhouse meant getting soaked.
Not a happy camper right now.
I have plenty of busy work to do around the cabin. Floors to be swept, god forbid I actually took out a mop.
Perhaps I'm just a little scared. I got to a place yesterday, seeing a part of me filled with shame. The little girl waiting for the comics who... enjoyed the feeling. She is just a child. Four years old. Incapable of understanding what an adult should and should not be doing.
I can't quite believe I just wrote that, said it out loud. Some abuse survivors deal with the deepest shame, that their bodies responded to the stimulation. Not all, not always, but some.
It's all suppose to be all pain. Horror.
It is, both are true. Looking back, as an adult, I know what was going on was wrong. Sick. But that little girl, she didn't know. She just wanted to be loved. Held. Happy to see her father smile.
Without any understanding of why.
A friend of mine once said, she felt like she was "hard wired" at a young age. It was often difficult to understand what was pleasure, what was pain and how to draw healthy lines around it.
When I read the book The Courage to Heal, I found that to be true in many stories told.
Usually anonymous stories told.
I'm afraid packing up today is the General in charge, saying enough. Enough of this stuff. Time to go write a political piece for Mass Equality, time to get focused on work to be done.
Perhaps mopping the floor will quiet the General down. Setting up the solar lights Jeanine sent with me, taking out Walter's old clock. There is a 1000 piece puzzle of Allan's here. Put away all the board games the kids loaded in the car.
My family is here even though they are not. I have to hold onto that comfort, and keep diving.