My Inner Child is a Stubborn Little Bitch

Well, she’s not really a little bitch, but she is pretty damn stubborn.  Most days, I adore that little girl with her you-have-to-wash-them-out-cause-you-can’t-brush-them-out curls.  But, she led me down a treacherous trail to a marriage to an abusive and narcissistic psychopath because he made it okay for me to be angry and she needed that.  She now leads me around to date after date looking only to realize her little girl fantasies because she needs them to live outside my mind.  It isn’t her fault completely.  She’s just a little girl whose unmet needs and unresolved anger shaped me and nearly allowed my assured ruin.

She missed out on the family life she wanted, the one she felt she had a claim to.  Maybe, she did have a right to an expectation of a healthy and intact family life, but she didn’t get it.  Certainly, not in the package she wanted.  So, there it is…she missed out and someone was going to get her what she wants – that someone became me.

As a consequence of my unsettled anger, I made choices and sometimes fell into situations I do not believe I would have if my extreme emotions had been explored and set free.  But, no one was watching my downward spiral.  No one understood or even saw the effects of their actions on me.  So, I coped as most children did in the 70s and 80s before therapy was commonplace, alone and on my own – just being and not progressing through the damage and grief ensuing from my real and perceived abandonment due to my parents’ divorce.

Not being shown how to work through my pain in a safe and honest place, I became ripe prey for someone who knew how to influence a person tethered to her daddy issues.  He made it acceptable for me to have anger.  He did not help me through it of course.  That wasn’t his game plan.  Instead, he acknowledged it, which is all I ever wanted, but then he used it to exploit and manipulate me into believing he was all I would ever have and at least he wasn’t leaving so take what I could get.  He used my unreconciled past, among other things, to fence in the best of me.  And I existed and endured in that psychological prison for 21 years.

Since I put my freedom back on several years ago, the little one inside has brought up those unfulfilled desires.  She says, “Here’s my chance.  That maniac is gone.  Now, I can get what I’ve been waiting for all this time.  Let’s do it!”

But, she only looks out for herself.  I’m a means to an end for her.  She has all the gritty strength of mind and floods with optimism at the end of a select few of these dates while I get all the sorrow and disenchantment when things do not go according to her plans.  She’s – well, she’s a child.

I’m not angry at her, though.  I love her.  I really love her.  I know her pain.  I feel her pain.  Her pain is mine.  But, it’s in the past.  It’s not part of my present.  For me, it’s done.  For her, that’s all there is.

So, tonight, I will let her climb into the lap of my mind and I’ll hold her and stroke those stubborn curls as I try to persuade her though I may never be able to give her that which she believes she needs to be whole, she will never – not ever – be alone again.  And, maybe – just maybe – we can be whole together.

 

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Paper Doll

She was made for this,
She was the vibration of marbles falling to the hardwood floor.
And the jolting sound of playful knocking at my knobless bedroom door.
She was a faint calling to the kitchen, from the bottom of the stairs.
She was the stifled sobbing of a heavy head, demanding I be there.
She was many things I’d left behind, as holy to me as they were small.
She was the joy of my last Thanksgiving dinner, and the sadness of a tattered paper doll.

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The Dance

Wild Heart Scribe

Purple beneath me

and to both sides…

genesis of

sunrise sky

above and around…

crossed limbs

opened palms

sense of

chilling space

above and around…

you claimed

my attention

at the start

but eyes soon closed

to the unfolding,

leaving

only sound to

pave my way…

but you

lifted my chin

coaxed my

eyes to open…

I looked up,

you found me

again

and you danced in

fluid circles

at first…

at first

you danced in

fluid circles

then quick floating

darts here

then there…

dazzling my being

wooing my essence

with your

flight

flow

flurry…

you danced for me…

the haze that tailed

your movement

as absorbing as

your seraphic light

until impulsively

you burst into

atmospheric dust

once,

twice,

lost count,

reaching

away

rippling

away

from your center

like a firework,

my mouth wide

in wonder

in homage

in applause…

then back to the dance

until the solis…

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