THIS IS THE ART OF DISARMING_
Healing is a war. And a costly one at that.
Nothing is predictable. Nothing is contained.
Dismantling the defense systems developed in response to trauma, abuse, and at various cognitive development stages of life, is not a simplistic task. You have no algorithm. No absolutes. Quite possibly, the only pretense that provides for an infallible and unshakeable foundation of healing is the most ludicrous one;
Beautiful in theory; Yet for us, this one word tears open former wounds with a vengeance; and poses a question, demanded in a reality where the very thought of any form of vulnerability is nothing short of blasphemous.
I LOVED; I TRIED; I FOUGHT. THEY FAILED;
WHY THE HELL WOULD I EVER EMBRACE THE ONE THING THAT DELIVERED ME INTO SO MUCH PAIN?
Where we go from here depends upon how honest you are willing to be; with the world surrounding you. Yet mainly, with yourself.
HE RAPED ME. HE TOLD ME I WAS NOTHING. SHE LEFT ME. THEY LIED.
And these are what THEY did. Actions THEY chose. THEY committed. Decisions that came from THEIR lives; THEIR BROKENNESS; THEIR DECISIONS.
So why are they defining us?
THIS IS WHAT THEY MADE ME.
No; and hence comes the dose of painful reality. For they didn't make this.
We did .
Yet, there's a long, hard road to grasping this. Begin with this consideration. Left vulnerable, left unsafe, you needed one thing, more than anything. To feel okay again. To feel protected. To feel
HE wasn't there for that. SHE never told you that. Yet, you NEED it. That is your desire.
Your dream. Your hope. And you began building an idea.
That love wasn't like the terrible things that happened to you. That it could never look like that. This this was wrong; so very wrong. A just world; a feasible world; a SAFE world, would NEVER look anything like the world where you'd been shattered. And hence, you became as a little child, staring in the stars, fully believing in a world with no indications, no suggestions, not even the minute possibility of a world that had any resemblance to the Hell you'd emerged from.
A safe world.
Embrace stage one; Your just built your Utopia.
Yet something went horribly awry. You began looking, hoping, dreaming, possibly praying, for this world. For that man or that woman, that job or that lifestyle, that vindication or that acceptance, that would finally prove and solidify this safe world you've so longed for.
And you've kept longing.
Yet, you never found it. Tired, broken, dismayed. Yet, you did find something else:
that people let you down. People hurt you. Dreams and wishes upon stars are fanatical; silly; delusional;
And because you couldn't find a safe world_you've made your own. And not only did you find something else; you found someone else.
A voice; an idea; it likely started as whisper; over the years, over the erosion of your emotions and strength, it has become a roar; It sounds so much like you Father; Like your mother; like the wife who was unfaithful; like the man who left scars on your flesh, but moreover, on your heart.
And it always reminds you;
People are not good. Everyone is the same. People leave, just like your father. People lie, just like your wife.
In this world, there is no perfect. No hope for change. You are worthless, and everyone will hurt you. Though a sad, painful reality, you have but one choice;
protect yourself; preserve safety;
at any cost.
This world is not what you once dreamed of. Broken, shattered, full of pains, hatred, bitterness, regret. Yet this world, you control. No one gets in to hurt you. No one leaves because no one gets close. You leave the minute they do anything that reminds you of anything your abusers once did; or didn't do. You are stone, leading an army of tactics, suppressed emotions, and social dissociation that never allows you to be fully connected or committed,
yet never get hurt again.
Embrace stage II; this is your Dystopia.
To move on begins with a simply stated but beyond emotionally challenging question:
Is this the love you once dreamed of?
And if the answer to that is no, then comes an even greater, more challenging, and unimaginably ironic question:
Are you willing to disarm your own empire?