My Body As Storage

My body, my being is a storage shed. Maybe a barn.

Not very wide. Not very tall. But deeper than any building ever. It goes on and on, maybe downwards too.

Pitchforks, worn out lawnmowers, shovels, dirt floors, a wooden door with worn out wooden sill, ancient thumb latch, rusted too. The only light comes from underneath the door. Damp, dank, stinky.

A perfect place for secrets. Shared secrets, they are. My secrets. Their secrets. How can it be that there is room enough in this body for me and them?

These secrets have calcified deep within me. In every joint and vein and artery, restricted movements, inhibited flow, lost sensation.

Slowly I retreated away from the physical, away from this dark basement, and took up residence in the deep recesses of my mind, hiding in the most powerful of brain tissue where reason and judgment reside, where I have deluded myself that I can be safe. This is a lonely place, but at least only I can fit here … they cannot come here, or so I think.

But of course, they have already been here. Their nasty work affected all of me, every last cell, the bastards even rewired my brain before I had a voice. I didn’t even know that as I found my voice later in life, it wasn’t all mine. They were there too. My words and thoughts were contaminated with their nastiness, the very vibrations of my vocal chords for all of my life like infections. My body at war with itself, with them and with my childhood.

My body has a lot to say. A lot to scream out.

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One response to “My Body As Storage

  • feelingmywaybackintolife

    Yes, the fysical experience to cell level of the destructive energy being dumped by the abuser. Very recognisable. :-/ And my own ‘funny’ misunderstanding where I thought it was impolite not to accept the dirt and bad energy and the abuse. 😦 My current focus is on trying to see and then isolate the energetic damage and learn to let it go. Without wanting to sound like a Disney movie. 🙂
    xx, Feeling

    Like

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