Breaking the Chains

There are magical places in the Earth. They're not apparent, emitting a subtle vibration. I've experienced it firsthand. These places call to me, for one reason or another, and I am compelled to obey their pull.

I remember being an almost feral child, who would run wild in the wilderness areas near my family's two homesteads. Wild and free, alone for most of my days, exploring all the dark places. The secret spots that animals hid to sleep or play, and places ordinary human children would fear to tread.

My curiosity drove me ever deeper into the solitude. I hiked the trails daily, from the time I left the house in the morning, till twilight. If I was close, I'd hear the whistles. If not, the fog horn cried out for me to return home when darkness fell. These days were my happiest of times.

I found so much joy out there, alone. I felt like Peter Pan, in my own Neverland, but I was the only lost boy. I don't believe for a minute that I was ever really alone. The forest is a living, breathing thing. The trees, the damp, the undergrowth, the creatures, the rot. It's intoxicating. I loved every minute I spent out there.

I don't remember when, or how it happened. If I grew out of it, or if I got scared. I knew no fear, and then I grew up, and realized how fragile life can be. I got caught up in the drama of life as a teenager. I had to learn the hard way how cruel life could be. I quit going to the dark and lonely places of the world.

I couldn't allow myself to continue putting myself in harms way, by evil men who whisper, "Hey, little girl.." from the shadows waving their filthy appendages at me, or other awful things that go bump in the night. Innocence lost. It's always the saddest story, before the real horror begins.

I was never overly cautious as a teenager, being a bit naive, and promiscuous with daddy issues, I endangered my life on so many occasions that each time I survived unscathed but with a bad taste in my mouth, I'd become more and more concerned for my well-being. I had a death-wish to be quite honest. Tying myself to another person, by getting married at 18, was apparently the solution to my obvious self-destructive behavior. This of course beget other self-destructive behaviors, and the vicious circle continues. Now, I'm afraid of everything, and still take way too many risks with my health, happiness, and sanity. It is what it is though.

I've lived a life less ordinary, a life well lived. I've learned hard lessons, and lost many of the people that I loved, to death, distance, and time. Healing has been difficult for me. The guilt and shame, for things that I've done, and things done to me, weighs me down immensely. I'm burdened with the constant memories of my childhood, like there's some Easter Egg that never got found, lost somewhere in my mind. It's rotten beneath that brightly colored shell, of course. It's like my facade of a smile that hides how I really feel about my life. When I finally find it, whatever it is, I can exorcise the demon, and let all this madness go. I just can't stop picking at it till then..ya know.

Even with all the ways I'm uplifting myself, there are still chains on me, holding me down.

There was so much beauty in my life. There still is. There still can be. I have to find my way back to myself, one way or another. Nothing I've done so far has worked. Years of therapy might, maybe, or maybe I write, and keep writing. I'll keep writing till I get all the stories out. All the wonderful, and horrible stories. I'll post them here. It's high time I change some things about myself, and I've gotta start somewhere. Letting out things that are bothering me could help me get to the bottom of it, but I'm always holding back, to save my pride or something ridiculous like that. Who better to share things with than friends, right? I have to stop caring what other people think, and follow my instincts. I'm not putting my life in danger by sharing my tainted, fuzzy memories. 

I also want to reconnect with nature on every level, and find a way to release that feral little girl from the chains that I bound her with. I want to let her out to play in the forests of my youth again. I deserve to feel that free, and at peace in my life. It's been a long time coming. I feel like 25 years in captivity is long enough, and there ain't nobody gonna save me but me. I think I did what I had to do then, to save me from myself, but I'm a different person now. I'm wiser, and not so naive. I don't have to worry about the same dangers that feral child did, or the damaged teenage whore she became.

I've worn so many masks, and I'm tired of wearing them. I'm tired of hiding from life, because somebody might judge me. I get judged every day for being fat. Why should I care what people think about my childhood traumas? It never stopped me from oversharing before. I keep doing it. Maybe, just maybe, the tellings of some of the things that I went through might help someone going through something worse. Because I am a survivor, I've lived to tell the tale. How can I not share it? How can I bury the memories, like bones in the backyard? I won't do it anymore. I won't feel that shame anymore.

The healing begins again.

Here and now, by the light of the waxing moon I break and throw off my chains. I make a solemn oath to myself, that I will find the deepest, darkest, most primal forest that I can find, and I will sleep, close to the moist earth until I can feel her crawling up through my feet, and taking root in my bones. I will pay homage to The Gods, and I will call out to the forest folk, asking for their forgiveness. I've wandered too far from home. I will tell my tales, as often as I may and I will honor my journey with love.

I am freeing myself from the burden of my memories, and I am living life to the fullest. I am the healing. I am the Universe expressing Itself. I am me.
Forevermore.