Saturday, January 22, 2011

Eating Dust from my past

After years of thinking the past was left in the dust, I find myself inhaling the leftovers.  Ghosts from my past are rearing their ugly heads and I am trying to make sense of why I am dealing with what is no longer who I am.

So, here I sit at a quarter past midnight, staring into a blank screen deciding to give my story a voice.  Oh, I have talked about this, even seen a therapists, but only shreds have been dealt with.

It is time for me to unveil the remains of me that have been locked in the cellar.  It is time to allow this to be what it is.

Where to begin, I don't know.

I am a thriver.  I am a survivor.  I am a woman with a past. 
My past is colorful.  But if all the colors are smudged together, it would become one black hole.

Down in that dark place, I see a child, lying behind the shrubbery.  She looks about eleven years old.  Lying there, panties off, legs spread while two teenage boys get a thrill exploring the anatomy of a girl.  At first it is just a look.  Then there are comments.
"This is what a pussy looks like.  You should touch it.  Look it's soft."

I feel a tear stinging the corner of my eye as it finds it's way into my ear.
I can feel the dirty hands.  I can smell the sweat of two boys who just finished playing basketball.
I am embarrassed.  I am exposed.  They have seen me.
They have used that "bad" word to talk about my privates.

They poke and prod.
A car door slams in the street, in front of the house. 
The boys decide it is a good time to flee.

Lying there I realize I don't understand what just happened but it made me feel dirty.

We were at a youth activity at the pastor's house.
This place had always been safe for me. 
No one ever dared speaking or doing anything that wasn't "good".
What was I to do with this.

I decided, it was my secret. 
I would never tell a soul.

Turns out I didn't have to tell anyone.
The boys had ran inside and told their story to the older kids in the group.
I overheard the conversation as I quietly walked in the door.

"She just laid there and let us look at her and touch her.  She ain't goin' to tell anybody.  Don't worry.  I bet she doesn't even know what we were trying to do."

This is what I remember in the beginning.

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