the flicker of the flame

i still can't seem to get the video i took of the candle loaded, but that image is back in my head today. i am that spastic flame, in the middle of the burning off the junk stage again. i posted after christmas how things were so beautiful and harmonious and it was a special time. it seems to have evaporated in my mind though. i'm so glad i blogged and journaled about it because i don't even know if i'd remember it otherwise. it might feel like a dream somehow.

i'm on my second period this month and the january blahs are here. weepy, tired and wanting to hibernate. i am triggering a lot of memories lately. once during sex with liam a couple of days ago that has left me feeling like bits of myself are floating around me and i want to gather them back somehow, but they are like feathers, airy and ethereal and i just can't seem to bring them back.

i am not afraid of the memory that is trying to surface. i know that when the oral rape memory came back everything made sense again. i know that this will be like it. i have too many questions, too many triggers and too much unexplained rage and emotion that is tying me in knots.

covers tangled, doors or drawers that won't open or close, and some major control issues are bringing up feelings of panic and anxiety. none of these things fit the memories i can hold on to. trapped makes sense, but the doors and covers don't.

i always had an obsession with locking doors as a young girl. i can't count how many times i sat in tears on one side of the bathroom door at a relatives house or a restaurant with my father calmly trying to talk me through the unlocking process as i described to the best of my abilities what the lock looked like. being sent down the laundry shoot at my aunt's, or my cousin crawling in the bathroom window - that makes sense. i was orally raped in a bathroom in my own home when i was 6. but the panic that overwhelms me when a door or drawer won't open properly doesn't fit. i swear i can see my skin turning green and the incredible hulk's arms busting out of my sleeves as i tear the door from it's hinges in my mind.

angry is way better than scared at those moments and i know it is masking some really deep seeded (seated?) fear.

and so i am today that herky, jerky flame longing for the calm of the steady burn, but knowing that there is much junk to burn through until i am able to make sense of it all.

i know i am strong enough to remember. i have run through those who had access to me, i see their faces in my mind's eye and wonder what happened that made me so very afraid. yet still they float just out of my reach, teasing me with their substance, are they real? or just my imagination? why can't i hold on to them and tell them that i am a grown, vibrant women who refuses to be victimized again and wants her childhood back so she can move on to what is next?

just for today i sit with the rage that explodes deep within, rarely shows itself outside of my mind, but seethes underneath hiding the fear of that young red-haired girl wanting to be safe and loved and cared for like she deserved to be. i hold you in my mind today and you are safe. it's okay to remember.