First there was trauma, followed by PTSD, before my brain and nervous system matured.
Then lack of mirroring and mis-representation by a narcissistic mother.
Then the usual damage by Alcoholic parents.
Then being a Highly Sensitive Person in a toxic environment.
Then being a very intelligent female in a sexist culture, therefore scary to men.
I was fortunate that I thought my problems were because I was defective, and I was rich enough that I could see good therapists starting in my twenties. I have spent my whole life in therapy, trying to understand and fix myself or heal myself, hoping that I would finally “have a life.”
But, due to lack of energy because of aging and chronic fatigue syndrome, I am finally defeated. I am losing ground, and the final defeat, Death, will be a relief.
I debated about whether to post this, since it sounds pretty bleak and despairing. But I remembered the line in the poem that says “this is how he grows” and wonder if I have grown at all during this struggle that is my life. And I am reminded that my favorite holiday is coming up, the Winter Solstice, the rebirth of light when things are at their darkest. Right now the nights are longer than the days, and they are still getting longer. But in about three weeks, the days will start getting longer, even though it won’t really show for another twelve days or so. So I hold tight to my faith that turnarounds are possible, and that we are all part of a bigger process that is beyond our powers of comprehension.