"THANK YOU" FALLEN ANGEL, UTAH SAVAGE AND MENOPAUSAL STONER

Such a beautiful shade of deep red. The cardinals were fluttering about in the now struggling forsythia, dormant and in hiding. Winter - a quiet reflective time to search within for new life, old ideas, direction, applause, challenge, surrender, strength, weakness and solitude. Sounds like a type of depression, perhaps it is. If that is true and one comes out renewed in Spring? It is necessary.

This season in particular, and I mean the Christmas season, makes solitude difficult. The stimuli is endless and the flurry and excitement and meanings filter in and out like dialysis. The timing is no coincidence - were it not for the unavoidable flurry and stimuli many would slip away in to their own darkness. Still, many do. Memories are vivid during times of obvious recall and when those memories are tragic they can pull a person down to their knees. Over time, if one is so inclined or determined, the memories can be dis-empowered. I wish with all my might I could tell you they will go away, but that simply isn't true. What I can tell you is that you can take the memories power away and stop them from causing continuing harm.

I know this sounds like an over simplification and at first read this may even appear invalidating and some of you may be saying "Fuck You". I get it. As crazy as this sounds I have earned some unwanted weird right to speak of such things as I hold my own share of tragic memories, that I have given much power to and at times I still do. It is the nature of the beast. October is my most difficult month with vivid, vivid memories of events that have scarred me for life. I give in to those memories every year. And not to cause my self to be re-wounded and harmed but to honor my truth. I spent years harming myself to deny the truth until I came to understand that the lengths I went to, to separate myself from myself were more destructive than the memory itself. What happened will never change, go away or not be a part of me. Sad but true. Maybe sad is not the right word.

In Winter, I reflect on October and how I honored myself. I sob uncontrollably over parts of my truth because those parts deserve such. I laugh and sing and dance over other parts of my truth because they deserve such. It is a delicate balance of good and evil. This season of reflection and quiet, shaken by flurry and stimuli is a master design for deeper harmony and love of self. Each year I am able to love myself more, forgive myself more, honor my truths more, celebrate more, keep hope alive, believe more strongly that there is a purpose for every piece of my life's tapestry - because there is.

I will end with a dream, inspired by Utah Savage's powerful honesty of her life's tapestry, reflected in one of her recurring dreams..

I was on a boat, actually an open flat boat with benches. I was with my two closest friends and support during the very beginning of my healing journey. They insisted they had to get off the boat and that I must stay. I felt so scared in this dream because I wanted them with me, always. They each got off the boat and I set sail again, alone. Another boat came by and my boat and it stopped in the middle of Long Island Sound. He was on the other boat, he being the teacher who abused me. He boarded and there we stood. The last thing I recall just before waking up crying was his voice saying, "It's time......".

I had that dream many times over the years and some Octobers I still do. This October, in particular, I had this dream often. I was jolted wide open by "The Great Debate" (an earlier post if you are interested). I have known for a while that for me, "It's time" meant it was time for me to face more of my truth, and face it, him, alone. I understood that to run and hide empowered him and to finally face him would empower me. And so it began. It was time, time indeed....... There is still a memory or memories I long to discover and this season my longing is being fulfilled. I am still awed by this because for years I did all I could to NOT remember. I, over the years, have come to know the value of knowing my own truth. And again, not to live in the pain and shame and horror but rather to be in charge of me, no surprises that can throw me in to a downward spiral. All of this was quite active after The Great Debate" and has since receded. And so, in my quiet time of Winter, away from the flurry and stimuli the memory is resurfacing. I have the balance of wonderful magic, love, energy and passion surrounding me and in me as I entertain full memory. I also know I must face him alone, just like in my dream which I experienced last night after reading Utah Savage's childhood dream/memory. "Thank you Utah Savage for sharing your dream", Thank you also, Menopausal Stoner for your honest sharing about your healing, spattered with pointed humor and the most amazing 'nic-names, ever! And "Thank You Fallen Angel for the still unfolding power of the "Great Debate". You , in many ways were the catalyst, the key to unlocking my vault. There is no therapist (sorry Barbara), or intimate person in my life that can reflect and search and acknowledge what is just under the surface. Only I can do that, it is my journey, my truth, my memory to face. I write today as one on the brink of something unbearable in it's detail. Something necessary in it's purpose. Something frightening by it's nature. Something freeing by it's being finally acknowledged. Something empowering by my ability embrace it - a part of me. Something wondrous because I can feel it and no longer mask it, hide it, beneath fake smiles and wine. The memory is right here...............and as odd as this sounds, I see it as a gift of self, a tribute to my healing journey, and again, to those of you, without even knowing, that helped me to finally say, "It's time........." I say 'thank you'.

Love,
Gail
peace......