I told myself that I would never blog during a firestorm. (#22 Firestorms - An Attempt to Explain). And I haven't. But today I am in recovery.
Yesterday my frustration with something physical triggered a terrible storm. It is often a difficulty with something that I can't make work, that releases the feelings stored in my body. Suddenly, there is not a millimeter of space left. The tank is overflowing!
I got up this morning to survey the damage...to my body and to my soul. Minor cuts, nothing like past events. What did I write? Can I find the courage to read it? There are a lot of four-letter words. Flashes of memories that I can usually keep in the box. A great deal of pain. The desire to survive once more.
This time, I gave conscious space to the injured five year old. The writing shows that she used her voice. And, as hard as it was, I listened.
We both survived.
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