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Saturday, May 19, 2012

corners of my mind

everyone has a dark corner of the mind that hides from the light of day.

in this picture of my grandma's house as it looks now, (courtesy of google maps) if you look closely, you can see a tiny window high up in the peak of the roof ...this image evokes a memory that was hidden for decades in the darkest deepest recesses of my mind.

when i look at that tiny window, i remember a dark night, a shadowy figure beside my bed, a thudding and a shouting and the wail of police sirens and the silent deafening screams coming out of my mouth as i stood shivering barefoot in dewy grass.

in between the beginning and the end of this memory, stands this image. i know that to get from the A to the C, i had to go through this tiny window- the B.

but my mind does not remember this.

there's a blank.

i realized this about 10 years ago while undergoing some intensive inner healing- and i gave myself permission to remember what happened.

it took 6 months before the truth slowly crept out of the deep crevass where my subconscious had buried it. and even then, it had a dream-like quality to it that made me unsure if it really happened.

even now, i'm not sure. but this is all i've got.

that night, my uncle stood beside my bed. i was terrified of him at the best of times, as he was a silent and scary man who smelled of alcohol and never spoke. my 12-year-old self knew that something was wrong with him. to awaken out of a deep sleep and see him standing there in just his underwear jolted me into panic, and then the darkness came.

the dream is this...it's dark, and i feel pressure on my chest...in slowmotion i get out of the bed, run up the stairs to where my grandmother slept, tear through her room to the end wall, stand on a rickety chair, and squeeze my trembling body out this tiny window onto the roof. then i drop to the ground below, stand there in the freezing grass in my bare feet and scream in the morning chill until help comes in the form of my dear uncle bill...who shouts and rants and calls- i presume-  the police

 and then everything stops and i don't know what happens after that.

my mind has done the best it can to bring to light what happened, and that's all there is.

and it doesn't hurt any more, but this picture makes me sad.

bad things happen to little girls.

scary things happen.

and the memories get buried under the layers of life...until they can't stay buried anymore and zombie-like, unearth themselves under the pressure of the pain.

i'm glad this corner of my mind disgorged to the best of its ability what it could.

the healing is light. it is the LIGHT.

he was there, and he helped me through that window.

but even if he hadn't, he could still heal the memory.

the mind is an incredible thing, doing what it must to preserve sanity.

but i'm thankful that the darkness cannot hide forever. the light speaks truth. the lies flee. healing comes.

and the window is just a window on an old tumbledown house on a little street from my childhood.