Moment of Reflection in the Afternoon

While cleaning my black iron pipes covered with a sticky gooey varnish for  for the kitchen set I am making, I was pondering how I can successfully find a future love interest-mate-partner-wife.  One thing important for me is of course full disclosure to this person about what I have been through in my past.  My issue is how much, how soon, when, what, and all that.  I know if I poured it out from a huge container of gatorade like they do on a winning coach at a football game, my future partner will be cold, wet, miserable, mad, and most definitely not my future partner.  It’s hard to gently break it to some you are interested in the level of violence one has been made to suffer as a child-young teen-ager.  Much less that you were raped many times by several people over a period of years; that in order to survive you had to seal that off somewhere so secret that it could never be found; that years later it would come back with a vengeance and nearly destroy you.  I am amazed on looking back at this that the intellect I had became even more focused because of that trauma.  I was forced to compartmentalize and dissociate to hide from the pain of torture and rape, my mind and body can go places where no one else really can; I can understand and see things that is difficult for others to really appreciate.  I know it does bug people though when my eyes do glaze over as if I am not paying attention; but only if they really knew that in my mind I am already many, many steps ahead of them already calculating probabilities and permutations of their interactions with me.  I know it’s hard for some folks to grasp that and it’s that reason why I can reasonable ‘predict’ a person’s choice and not be bothered by it; because I’ve already calculated it as what they would have already chosen as their ‘choice’.  Of course, what they don’t know, and probably a good thing that they don’t know is that the moment someone has opened up a little to me I get a relatively good sense of the course of their life from that point out; which I keep to myself.  Wouldn’t you?  That’s probably too why I think I am sometimes on the verge of tears when I talk to some people.  Some people are just on the edge of a razorblade; one wrong step and it’s over for them.  My doc in one of our conversations told me that it was simply amazing with what I had done.  Because of my empathy, I did not become a serial killer or a person of violence (yea, being in the military is a paradox) and I absolutely abhor violence.  Really, really strange.  I could not have done it had I not talked about what happened.  Had I kept it inside I would have been the worse sort of animal.  I guess disclosure is necessary though painful.

Another thing that kind of get’s me about being a survivor of childhood trauma is that I know it’s not my fault and I should be proud that I have survived to my age without myself becoming violent, or a drug-user, or an alcoholic.  I made it through the military to a great rank, retirement, and all that other stuff.  I’ve done great stuff and I know now that I am over my greatest darkness lasting seven years I will do even greater stuff; but I owe it to the  person I want to give my entire heart and mind to reveal every last bit of why I made the choices I did to survive.  I still carry guilt though.  In the last several months, it’s been dissipating, going away, evaporating.

I did not do this for my first wife and she suffered for it.  I still ache and grieve when she finally was able to tell me how she hurt at my failure to make her feel cherished.  I never, never want to have anyone I love tell me that again.  I never want anyone who loved me once with her entire self tell me she felt less complete because I was less complete because I did not take care of little details that women need in their lives because I was lost in the shadows of my abuse as a child.

So I need to figure out the gentle balance of disclosure without scaring a person away.  I also need to do this slowly so that the person does not feel deceived at any point along this slow and arduous path of disclosure.  If I dwell too much on why I should have to do this, I am revictimized over and over again; however, I learned long ago how to survive-to be a survivor, a warrior.  I learned to grasp my enemy in my hands as his soul left his body and to give that soul what love I could give in compensation for the damage I did to the same universe that gives me life.  It is a paradox I live; once again a mystery.  The person I will find to bond with and to love will have an onion to peel and unravel.  This onion though has already done all the crying and all the suffering.  It is my hope and joy that the person I find who has the courage to take on my gift of self will everyday look into my eyes and see nothing but pure acts of love and creation that rivals the first pure act of love and creation and in the garden we plant we will walk under the radiant sun with her gossamer strands of golden warmth and our bodies one day entwined will join the dance of the stars in the sky.

Categories: Blog