an ongoing healing journey

“The chances that life brought me, turned out to become choices that are consistent with my personality - without me knowing anything about it.”

It all started because, at the origin, I became an adult too soon. Was I 4 years old when I consciously realized that it was I who was to manage my parents’ emotions? I recalled it during an EMDR session with my III therapist. I was 4 years old.

4 months old, when they both left for a month’s holiday, 8 years old when I started shifting between suicidal and homicidal thoughts.

33. Reinventing myself: rearranging, cleaning, understanding, observing, trying, managing, listening, staying, holding, moving, cooking, reading, not overthinking.
33 as a mother, mothering first of all herself.

40, or maybe more - less?, kilos of stress come up and down my bones, into my mouth disguised as sugar that causes part of this stress. Was I ever balanced?
Was I ever happy?

Burning, burying, so that the child I am born being is heard amidst the crowded microbiome’s fumes coming up to my brain, passing through my heart - beating at fatigue.

“My life is joy”, I can only whisper when the silence comes through, when I am joyous. “We try to control joy, - I continue - to replicate it, and we all want it to be like a light switch. ON, OFF.”

I can’t but share the process. Call it poetry, whatever.
I can’t but be in this moment of confusion that happens only because the mind CANNOT translate the intimacy of the deliberate being. It wouldn’t make any sense, you agree.

70 my mom is, sechs und siebzig him. They are still together, and I now see them as the most tender thing of the whole world: those sweet people who do everything they can for their only daughter. I see all their ignorance, all their reasoning, all their habits, then I raise, smile and let them be.
Is this what we call forgiveness?
And what if I remember all the violence?

For the physical, I place my hands on it. Emotional: I keep telling myself that I am loved, I am capable, I deserve … Spiritually, I go beyond them, see the past history and the recent one in the stories of my grandmothers - to whom I connect also in my meditations.
Mostly, it’s soon gone. Sometimes, it’s truly healed - buried, forgotten for good.

How does it heal?
Because I am interested to, and because I don’t give up trying.