Saving Daddy's Soulmate

My Journey of Forgiveness

I’m Stumped

on January 28, 2014

stumpPhoto credit:  Unknown

This is how I feel.  He’s dead and yet his roots are still very much in my life.  They are far reaching into my psyche.  I hear his words in my head even though I can’t really remember his voice.  I’d know it if I heard it but the exact timbre of it is lost now.  But the shame, the guilt, the unworthiness is still there, very much evident.  I can’t seem to shake it.  How do you kill the roots when the tree’s already gone?

I get angry because I shouldn’t have to deal with this anymore.  But it’s all around me.  I’m still dealing with him by having to deal with my Mom who still misses him.  It’s not him so much as the security of another person in her life.  She misses that he slept with his arm around her at night.  That she had him there to drive her around.  That and she could remain safe in her cluelessness.

But I need to empty myself of what’s poisoning me inside.  The snippets of memories long ago buried which pop up out of nowhere, confusing me.  The emptiness which I feel in my belly that I feed with junk in order to quiet it all the while hating that I’m eating.  There were times when I didn’t eat, a whole week when I refused to speak, eat or do anything but stare into space at the young age of 12.  The anorexia which plagued me one summer, giving me that empowered sense of not eating ~ a type of control when all else in my life was out of control.

And now, the beast needs to be fed and I can’t stop.  The girl who prided herself on being thin, now expanding beyond appropriate form only to stuff down feeling with food.  Where I once limited myself, I now am limitless ~ equally hating myself.  I am pudgy.  I look stuffed.  I look awful and not like me.  And yet, I can’t stop.

I hate myself.  I hate feeling this way.  Lonely, I share nothing except with you.  I cannot tell those around me what I am enduring for fear that they will not understand.  I profess that I put on a good show, an actress as always.  Made for the part ~ and yet deep down, I’m withered.  I’m cold.  I’m desperate.  I fear that if I allow myself to really feel and go there, into the blackened hole, I will never get out.  I will drown in the truth.  So I skirt it.  I dare not take that first step for there is nobody to hold me that I trust.

What I fear I know weighs heavily in my head, on my shoulders, in my vast belly.  How can it be that I don’t know things or am I making them up in my head?  There’s no one to ask.  No one to trust.  No one alive who will tell me the truth.  I want to be healed.  I don’t know how to relive this and I can’t find a way to do it on my own.  I’ve never been the one who needs my hand held.  I’ve been the strong one, the mother figure to all of them.

Who’s to help me now?


5 responses to “I’m Stumped

  1. Denise Hisey says:

    Hello…I popped over to thank you for visiting my blog recently and have gotten caught up on your touching posts. Your anguish and loneliness sadden me, probably because they are so familiar to me. My dad passed away as well, and it has been hard work evicting him from my head -killing the roots as you say.
    What helped me the most was therapy -you mentioned on your about page there aren’t enough hours- I can relate to that. It seems to take forever to get past the raw pain. Maybe something I discovered will be helpful to you.
    Remembering, telling, grieving, processing, healing.
    That’s the order of how things have gone for me. It’s like ripping a scab off a deep wound and exposing it to the elements. Bloody, oozing yuck. But…healing does come.
    I wish you comfort in the midst of pain, but mostly I wish you healing.

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