Today i spent time at the beach precious my time hours n fact of my time. But it got us reflecting on time and how much we find time both a friend and enemy. I know this might trigger some so this will be your warning.
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I was six when i was strapped to a bed it was a high mast bed four corners and i was strapped to all four bedposts. I wasnt drugged for a change so my thought pattern was clear, it was the first time I remember wondering what time of day it was. The curtains were closed but i became preoccupied in the next few hours in time and what time it might be. I knew by now day meant certain (although not always) safety and Night did not. I craned my neck to see out of curtains to look for a clock anything that i could decipher time. There was none but what i did know was that footsteps meant danger and so i counted time like sheep in counting for footsteps. I didnt know much about counting but i knew it was a while.
When i awoke people were gatherered around my bed my heart beating a terrible rhythm my body bracing for the terrible onslaught. But there were none no torture no assault just a sprinkling of blood upon my clothed white body. Words all jumbled and chanting a splash here a splash there from what looked like a cross in form but not the quite form. It didnt hurt i didnt feel scared maybe i dissociated maybe i didnt i am not sure but all i know is the most important thing to know was what time was it.
The blood only started hurting a while later after they left it seemed to sting to hurt o weep to open up inside me. As i struggled for my hands to be free the pain kept going and time became so much more important, how much longer before it stopped by the time it stop my body although had not been touched except by blood had welts that caused terrible painful sores. The only thing i could think of was what was it like outside the window.
And now thirty more years later we are still preoccupied with light with never having curtains closed with fear of darkness of closed curtain. And time how preoccupied with time we got, we spent as much time in daylight as possible we at times stood and begged the moon to stay asleep we cringed as the Day turned to dusk. it didnt matter how big we have got we still find the moving from day to night unappealing. Time isnt for us about moving forward its about the carriages of the past sometimes taking us to places we wish we could forget.
Time, light, daylight gives us hope, grounding a chance to be free, darkness surges us into panic. Even as a adult we stay alert at night we hear sounds movements and life beyond what others hear. We of course never share that small child strapped to her bed but we often see her and her vulnerabilities and we want to stay vigilant for her and others inside like her. But if time creeps away we panic we feel the same girl trapped in the window room but cant se out. We feel overwhelmed and claustrophobic, scared and vulnerable all over again
As much as we work hard to not get sucked in each time we get suffocated in time issues we can only see that girl sinking on her bed scared and alone and thats how we feel.But we do want to get past that but we dont know how, its like we are there at times but then we arent. But we know we want that girl tied down to get healing we need her to, whoever she is.
Thalia
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I was six when i was strapped to a bed it was a high mast bed four corners and i was strapped to all four bedposts. I wasnt drugged for a change so my thought pattern was clear, it was the first time I remember wondering what time of day it was. The curtains were closed but i became preoccupied in the next few hours in time and what time it might be. I knew by now day meant certain (although not always) safety and Night did not. I craned my neck to see out of curtains to look for a clock anything that i could decipher time. There was none but what i did know was that footsteps meant danger and so i counted time like sheep in counting for footsteps. I didnt know much about counting but i knew it was a while.
When i awoke people were gatherered around my bed my heart beating a terrible rhythm my body bracing for the terrible onslaught. But there were none no torture no assault just a sprinkling of blood upon my clothed white body. Words all jumbled and chanting a splash here a splash there from what looked like a cross in form but not the quite form. It didnt hurt i didnt feel scared maybe i dissociated maybe i didnt i am not sure but all i know is the most important thing to know was what time was it.
The blood only started hurting a while later after they left it seemed to sting to hurt o weep to open up inside me. As i struggled for my hands to be free the pain kept going and time became so much more important, how much longer before it stopped by the time it stop my body although had not been touched except by blood had welts that caused terrible painful sores. The only thing i could think of was what was it like outside the window.
And now thirty more years later we are still preoccupied with light with never having curtains closed with fear of darkness of closed curtain. And time how preoccupied with time we got, we spent as much time in daylight as possible we at times stood and begged the moon to stay asleep we cringed as the Day turned to dusk. it didnt matter how big we have got we still find the moving from day to night unappealing. Time isnt for us about moving forward its about the carriages of the past sometimes taking us to places we wish we could forget.
Time, light, daylight gives us hope, grounding a chance to be free, darkness surges us into panic. Even as a adult we stay alert at night we hear sounds movements and life beyond what others hear. We of course never share that small child strapped to her bed but we often see her and her vulnerabilities and we want to stay vigilant for her and others inside like her. But if time creeps away we panic we feel the same girl trapped in the window room but cant se out. We feel overwhelmed and claustrophobic, scared and vulnerable all over again
As much as we work hard to not get sucked in each time we get suffocated in time issues we can only see that girl sinking on her bed scared and alone and thats how we feel.But we do want to get past that but we dont know how, its like we are there at times but then we arent. But we know we want that girl tied down to get healing we need her to, whoever she is.
Thalia
((((((Thalia)))))) I'm so sorry.
ReplyDeleteWow, Thalia--intense, but thank you for sharing. Thank you guys for the encouragement to always be willing to seek out everyone inside for what needs to be healed. We try so hard to do this, and it is so encouraging that you do this as well. Wishes of peace for all of you--us
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing this and for visiting my blog today. As intense as this is for me to read, I can only imagine how intense it is for you to revisit and write. For me, my safe place was outside in the sunshine, completely alone. Alone, I knew, I wasn't going to be hurt. Outside, I could run and hide.
ReplyDeleteI did not endure what you did but I also fear the dark. I have to sleep with a light on. I'm also very claustrophobic. I don't even like taking elevators.
ReplyDelete