I have a full pot brewing…c’mon, it’s not even dark out.
We can lounge on my couch and watch an old movie…or new, Anna Karenina is on demand. I’ll tell you my plan for getting in shape that includes a two-week sugar detox and a month-unlimited membership to a Bikram yoga studio–of course, we’ll discuss all of it while eating the last of the Girl Scout Thin Mints I have hidden in the back of the freezer. (“Small moves, Ellie, small moves.”)
You can tell me about how your year is going so far. Work. Writing. Putting up with family who never change. I’ll tell you about finally sending the scariest email of my life, with lines like:
…when I was 17, you made sexual advances toward me…It was not my fault…I do not want to continue to live in denial…I simply want time and space to determine what’s best for me…
I’m officially a writer who gets paid to write from the comfort of her home office.
We can fix more coffee while I do my best to convince you that these two events–the email and my new job–are connected in the most cosmic way. I will explain how defining what happened to me as wrong and not my fault–out loud and to the very person who perpetrated the abuse–freed me to a new world of possibilities.
Here’s what I think happened. I believe a sacred part of myself has been living in denial, acting as if what happened hadn’t happened, or, at the very least, wasn’t as bad as the rest of me kept trying to demonstrate. (“What you experienced wasn’t right. You were betrayed on the deepest level by the very people whose primary job was to protect and nurture you. How could you possibly have a clear view of all that is possible when your psychic vision has been so skewed from the very start of trying to figure out who you want to be?!!” says me, defiantly to myself as I think this thing through.)
The most sacred core of my being was going along with a lie that blocked me in ways I couldn’t even define until I said, “This was wrong. It wasn’t my fault, and it scarred me so deeply I don’t even know where the damage ends.”
Turning that lie into a truth allowed me to start clearing out all the junk around it and has started opening doors that lead to better possibilities. It’s like crossing a bridge during a heavy fog when you can barely see the rails on either side of you. But then the fog clears and you realize you’re in a whole new place.
So that’s what I’m thinking–cookies, coffee, good conversation and a comfy couch and maybe a period piece movie with Kiera Knightly’s perfectly-pouty lips.
(Shit…I just finished most of the Thin Mints, you’ll have to pick up some more on your way here.)