Sinkhole Transitions
Life is about transitions; sometimes, there are bumps in the road, which most people can easily handle. Then there are the sinkholes that leave you gutted and laying face first in the road with no rhyme or reason as to how you got there and where you need to go next. This entry is about those types of changes. The ones that tell you that life will never be the same afterward.
Normally, I keep my personal life out of this blog, but this time, I think I need to talk about it while I go through it. I hope talking will help me heal and promote a guide to help others heal too.
Imagine sitting in a room full of colorful handprints. These handprints are of different sizes, big and small. Some have rainbows, others are just a single color. All have a child’s handwritten name under them. One of them is yours. Well, not yours exactly, but we will not get into that. This is my journey, after all.
In this room, full of handprints, are cozy couches, toys, a child-size house with a make-believe kitchen, and large windows letting in lots of sun. It’s a warm place, in a normal house on a normal street, in a normal town or city. This house could be your neighbors. It’s safe, it’s pleasant, and it’s unfortunately needed because every handprint on that wall and ceiling is from a child who has been abused and who came to this house to give his or her testimony against their abuser. Every child and parent who enters this house is met with a warm, cozy embrace and an even warmer and friendly face in order to prepare to meet with the forensic therapist, who is going to ask them questions about their most horrific experiences.
The reality and the sensations of this place are so mixed that it is hard to describe the feelings you get when you are in the thick of it. Yet, as gutting, safe, sickening, and healing as it all is, I, for one, wish I never had to set foot in that place.
The journey that this blog will start to talk about does not begin here, but my journey, the one that I will be telling you about, will. I do not need to get into the emotional turmoil I felt when I got that call; when I saw the faces of the people who knew what happened but did not want to say it. To hear the panic in others voices because they are confused and heartbroken at the same time. The knowledge that my heart was breaking along with them, and not being able to express it because I was just numb… or strong…or needing to hold it all together for the sake of another or… No, I was just numb.
The sensation of knowing that someone you love hurt a part of you that is no longer inside you is very similar to going through the stages of grief, only the denial is harsher and can play out in many different ways. It can turn into a resentment that outsiders do not understand; then into shame and guilt when the realization of this emotions hit, before shifting back into anger towards the abuser and then denial that it even happened.
For me, the blessing came in a no-contact order. Something I felt right away, and yet, at the same time, my heart did not want to accept. I wanted to rebel against it while my mind knew it was something I needed, that my smaller part required, and that it would ultimately propel me towards my future. A future filled with uncertainty and, to be honest, one I am scared of. Some people walk towards their destiny with inner resolve because they always wanted it. I have been pushed because I fear it and the changes I know it will bring. Yet as I write these words, those changes are active and pushing me forward into an unknown future where all or most ties that are currently the most important ones in my world will be severed, broken, lost, and may never heal, which is the scariest part of it all.
Yet, the shining glory is my smaller part, has been the happiest I have seen in a while. That’s worth fighting for. Right?
Yes, but…old ties, current loves, and a life that felt like it was just starting to turn into the life I wanted are now gone and will never come back.
Gutted, laying face first on the ground, not willing to get up. Yet maybe these pages will start my crawl towards something else, better. Hopefully... only time will tell. In many ways, this is the start of my lifelong journey.
Thanks for listening,
Jodie Nicole
Ps. I’d like to thank the staff and others at the Cause House for their support during this difficult situation.