Spine twisted into knots I curled up on my bare mattress trying to breathe thinking two thoughts at the same time: I can’t breathe and you’re going to survive this. The “this” I meant was not just that moment but this entire year…two years of losing finding and refining who it is that I know myself to be.
It has been present with me lately that I’ve experienced two of the most difficult experiences women, sadly, far too often experience: rape and miscarriage. I must say I was much more equipped to handle the rape…even though I have anxiety attacks, carry a constant fear, have flashbacks, etc. If I had to rank them, the rape was easier.
When I think about the day I found out, it takes my breath away. That’s how I felt. When I found out in one day I was both pregnant and not…I hit the floor. I felt like the world just collapsed around me and all the stars went out. I remember the feeling of isolation because I was alone and the only person I knew for 500 miles in any direction, was the father. I was devastated. And it is only just recently that I am able to openly admit that. Talking, literally talking about it is something I have yet to conquer. To be honest, I am not sure that it’s a mountain I even want to climb. Perhaps on this one my inner work is sufficient. Not every trial is for public consumption. Some things are allowed to just be mine.
So when my therapist asked me to explain what feeling “raw” felt I told him like your body was inside out. But really it’s more like your body is covered in healing but exposed burns; the pink tenderness of vulnerable flesh. Praying to God no one bump into you, and your body unable to discriminate between loving touch and sadistic influence. It all hurts.
The only thing that helps is time and armor. Telling myself that it’s okay to need the armor of medication. The armor of solitude. The armor of silence. The armor of friendship. The armor of family. The armor of kind thoughts. Whatever it is I need, it is okay that I give it to myself in order to dress my wounds and heal.