One of the most helpful insights I've had in this healing journey was the moment I realized that, when I find myself arguing with my abuser in my head, I can make him say whatever I want.
Because I do find myself arguing with him in my head. A great deal more frequently than I'd really like to, honestly. It's always the same - I'm always trying to convince him it wasn't my fault. Mostly because I don't seem to really believe it myself. Well, maybe I do on the surface, but some days I feel like I could spend the rest of my life staring into the mirror, telling myself it wasn't my fault, and maybe - if I lived another hundred years - I'd actually feel it in the marrow of my bones. But that could be another entry entirely.
Right now I want to discuss a revelation of nearly miraculous proportions - the person I argue with in my head isn't actually my real abuser. I can make him say whatever I want or need to hear. Whatever outlandish, ridiculous things that he would never say in real life - I can make him say it in my head.
Like,
"You're right."
And
"You didn't deserve that."
And
"I'm sorry."
In my head, I'm the one in control. It took me a while to realize, because, well, that's the nature of abuse I suppose. But it has probably been the single most healing practice that I've discovered for myself.
So when I find myself chopping vegetables with unnecessary vehemence, thinking
You lied to me! You manipulated me! You used the most beautiful parts of me and the most broken parts of me to get what you wanted, and you didn't care at all what it cost me...
Instead of his usual bullshit, he replies, "You're right. I'm sorry."
And suddenly, the argument is over. There's so much more space for other thoughts and feelings. It feels like a fog lifting in my mind. It's so clear, so palpable. I immediately feel lighter in my body.
It's a practice. Like any practice, I do it over and over again. Like in mediation, when the thoughts come and go like clouds floating through a clear blue sky.
You hurt me, and then you convinced me it was my own fault. "You're right. I'm sorry."
You took advantage of me when I made myself vulnerable. "You're right. I'm sorry."
You abandoned me when I needed you the most. "You're right. I'm sorry."
Your words said one thing but your actions said the opposite. "You're right. I'm sorry."
Sometimes he adds how it really wasn't my fault, despite what he said before. How he wishes he could go back and make it right. How I was the best thing that ever happened to him and he was a fool to destroy what we had and he wishes everyday he could have me back. (That last one is really just to rebuild some of my shattered self esteem, not because I would actually ever want him back.)
But mostly "You're right. I'm sorry" is all I need to move on in that moment.
And those moments, when I find myself locked in those arguments, they wax and wane. Some days are filled with returning to the practice. Other times I notice with delight that it's been a couple days since he intruded into my inner dialogue.
The morning after the winter solstice last month, I woke up with these words on my lips -
The light is returning.
And it truly is. Just like the sun, a few minutes each day. Even on the cloudy days when I can't see it or feel its warmth. Even after it sets for the day, I can rest knowing it will rise a few minutes earlier in the morning.
So it is with me as well. Even on the bad days, I can see that the long arc of my journey is toward healing, and that is what this blog is about.
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