How can one be anxious about writing when writing is what I’m doing? It seems odd to express my true emotions to others but I’m used to writing to myself. What’s the difference then between talking to myself and talking to you? This is a great question to ask oneself and evaluate why I don’t want anyone to see the true me, the broken me, the human me?
Most people would say that they are their true selves at all times. I haven’t had the luxury of saying that. It seems to be that I’ve walked through most of my life with a mask on. Afraid to let my true self be tainted by the surroundings I was in and hiding from reality at the same time. My body survived the war of evil that set upon me. It started early on and lasted what seems like eternity. From pain to violation to burns and tears, the scars covered my body but eventually healed. Or so I thought. It seems as though those scars just permeated my skin and became hidden but untreated. They were still bleeding, still infected and still hurting but no one could see. The hidden self knew something was terribly wrong but kept hiding for fear of what it would find. So years go by, the hidden self is still hiding and the body has grown into a semi-healthy woman. I say semi-healthy because the burden of carrying around those unhealed wounds became toxic causing the body to ail; ulcers, anxiety, depression, unhealthy eating habits, thyroid issues and high cholesterol. Now medical professionals may say that some of these issues can’t be related to trauma but I’m sure the dark cloud of depression that started when I was 7 was a direct result of current events. Maybe the unhealthy eating habits can be considered out of that scope but then if we look back there is a direct correlation between how I was starved emotionally and physically as a child so that it makes it challenging as an adult to feed the same body the way it deserves to be.
Anyway, I got off track for a moment. The question was why am I afraid to let people see me. I would probably say that I’m afraid of seeing me so why would I subject another to the unknown. I was hiding so long that I forgot where to look to find myself. I’m sure there is still a small beacon of light in there that keeps beating. I know this because if God wanted me to die during my overdose I wouldn’t be here today. Rachel CJ didn’t leave when she had to hide from the ogres of the 70’s and 80’s she just created a safe, complex world within that has secured the spirit that was meant to survive. I see lots of darkness when I look inside but when I am very still and quiet and I look deep enough I see and feel the heat of that light beating like a heart. The more I look at it the bigger it gets and maybe one day it will fill the worn body completely busting out of its hiding place because there is now no longer a reason to hide. The light will be seen in my eyes and in my smile and I will glow with the strength, beauty and love that God has blessed me with. I suppose the answer to the question is closer to when will I see all of the infected wounds, treat them and let my insides match my outer beauty. When will I break down that decrepit tenement that I built as a sanctuary and allow my light to expand into every cell of me and be felt by others from my fingertips. Now is the time to stop asking when. The sooner I let myself see the sooner others will be able to see me. I suppose when I allow the light behind my eyes to shine then I will be allowing myself to be seen. I look forward to that time.