![]() ![]() Rage roiled subterranean until a fissure (migraine) released a bit of it. And my migraines as a teenager and young adult was my heart’s way of signaling the need for change. Traumas seen and heard didn’t really happen, we were told, so I locked them up – or so I thought. I would never be beautiful my smile would get me into trouble. But I figured, they’re the adults, they’re my parents, wouldn’t they know me best? I was the ugly duckling. ![]() You see, I wanted to believe that still small voice buried under an avalanche of trauma that said “You are.” Me at the core. This embarrassment was temporary, but were you to gently pull away a piece of duct tape, a pulsing bruised heart would have looked at you with wide terrified eyes, certain you would see her for the fraud she was who looked happy, acted happy and bled tears when alone who froze if someone surprised her who trusted no one’s emotion including her own who didn’t recognize danger when it walked toward her who was ashamed to admit how much she longed for a good mommy and daddy who would love her for who she was who accepted the negative messages of her childhood about herself but presented herself confidently to the world. I could have crawled under a nickel and given you four cents change when she informed us she was pretty excited about all the money she was making as a prostitute. Do I have a sister? How about four? Feeling pretty pleased to be asked out by this fellow, a junior, and for a recommendation for his cousin, I contacted my adopted twin. His cousin wanted to double date, so he asked if I had a sister. My freshman year of college I was asked out by a professor’s son. Only, my wounded heart was held together with metaphoric duct tape.Įven while you’re still young, the past and its dysfunctions can come back to bite you. If you had looked at me back then, all outward appearances would have been quite fine: Youthful, vivacious, high visibility on campus with music and drama, excellent student, athletic, and a pilot. I wear every battle scar with pride for having lived through the dark, dark places of my youth and young adult life. I love that too.Īnd yet: The journey from there to here was a harrowing one. Nearly two decades later we’re still adventuring together. If that isn’t an adventure, I don’t know what is! I met a man later in life, threw caution to the winds, and moved to his city knowing only him. I’m fascinated by new countries, new cultures, different languages. ![]() Exquisite was learning to fly, for my whole world opened up. I loved swinging onto my horse Mengustu’s back and trying a new trail. I adored our mule train explorations in Africa. I’m an adventurer at heart, a trait I inherited from my dad. ![]()
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |