Faith

Shit. Shit. Shit. It is that time of year in which I relive the feelings of fear and anxiety that for me, have defined special and family occasions. It was beyond painful not getting to believe in God or Santa or the Easter bunny, not having fun or meaningful traditions with my mother and family.  An utterly faithless existence, really nothing to count on but shame and guilt for being too tense, too skinny, too hungry, too needy, too clumsy, too brown, and angry about being unable to change or deny it all. And then— to still be all those shitty ways on special days in which you are supposed to be and feel all precious and secure and amazing, well that was just a fucken crusher too. So, there is that haunting trauma that I face each year from October through January…that deep longing and awful knowing that if I had been good enough or worthy, my birthdays and holidays might have been different…like the ones that people who are loved and lovable have.  right?  But guess what recovery teaches me.  My mother’s inability to love me is a reflection of her and of course it affected me mentally and emotionally and shaped how I would be in the world—I will grieve that, but no longer take responsibility for it.   As I have said, one of my more pronounced failures was that I was not a gracious and mellow abuse getter.  My natural reaction was to become an infernal hurricane — a firestorm. (more…)