I am an island.
This is NOT a pretty story.
I warned you.
I remembered tonight – being anchored to a seabed floor of shame, self loathing, worthlessness. I pictured myself shearing my head of this stupid haircut and moronic color. Of slicing pieces of flesh off because my fat body is ugly to perceive. I thought of years of not just feeling like shit but allowing others, specifically men, to treat me like shit because you know, that’s what I deserve- that’s what I am. I am trash and excrement and just worthless.
I started to cry for that goddamn island I created. Where the hell did I lose the bridge to the mainland? Where were all the rowboats? The dinghies? The lashed together rafts? Where the hell was the old Wilson volleyball to keep ME company?
This goddamn island that became a hotbed of hatred and self-fulfilling prophecies is fucked up evil shit, man. It twists your mind. All you see is the hatred, all you feel are the knives, all you smell is the shit, all you taste is your own blood, all you hear is negative.
Fuck that shit.
Tonight I reached into the past to say, briefly and with not much emotion, “You hurt me. 28 years ago – which is an ocean, a continent, a bloody lifetime ago – you were a stupid, selfish, idiot boy and I was a damaged girl and you hurt me. When I see you now – which I have to occasionally because we live in the same area code – it reminds me of how disappointed I was in you, and ME. I need to tell you so that I can deflate that balloon, kill that beast, put the fucking ghost to bed for God’s sake (and mine).” He was remarkably kind, for which I am eternally grateful.
But by opening that Pandora’s box, I allowed all of that bad juju out… it swamped me, overwhelmed me, threatened to take me out.
But now I’m a different person. I cast out my rope bridges from the island and, yes, thank you Jeeezus (Erica that’s for you) my bridges found footing and they held. I talked to her and her and him. I was held firm in acceptance and love, reminded I have value. I am a mofo miracle of God. I have survived death threats from myself to make a difference in this world and I fucking WILL. Yes, Jayzus, I will let my loves lay their hands on me, remove the cancer, remind me I’m an island tethered, anchored, mortared to a loving, caring, breathing community of battered and beautiful loves.