From my journal for Monday, June 19
I tried to talk to the part that’s making me so scared. I got little bits of dialogue before I actually sat down to write it.
Me: how old are you?
Part: Twelve
Me: why are you angry at me?
Part: Because Daddy kept coming in at night and feeling my breasts, and it took you so long to do anything.
Me: yes, I remember one time “O no not this again,” and I groaned and turned over and he left and never came back again. So he did it lots of times?
Part: YES
Me: I think I must have dissociated, like I disappeared the nasty things mother said to me. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to make you experience it. Did you experience what Mom did?
Part: She never touched me.
Me: so maybe another part took care of those. Well, you have a right to be angry. I don’t remember feeling angry, I remember thinking that I was not good/attractive enough for any men better than the sleaziest.
Part: yes and I was angry at you for that. You kept on believing you are unattractive.
Me: so why are you making me scared now when I’m trying to take care of Mocha, and wanting to hand my life over to God?
Part: God? God’s just like Daddy.
Me: Yes, that’s just what I felt as a kid. Then I stopped believing in god.
That was as far as I got on Monday. Something about the part felt familiar to me. Her feisty energy. I realized I had seen something like that recently. In the most recent post, there was a link to the Torah of Jenny. In it, I talk about a “fierce feisty part of me.” “Angry, spunky, outrageous.” “Whoever that feisty little person inside is, she knows what she wants to say.” Work on the Torah was “really freeing up that rebellious, obnoxious, feisty energy.” I realize that I need her now. She may be angry at me, but she’s angry on my behalf, for not standing up for myself, for failing to value myself. I’ve been hoping to give my audio-visual presentation, Sacred Sites of Ancient Keltia, to the community here at a Kendal, but I’ve somehow lost my confidence. I need the feisty one to give me a boost of energy. I did it when I was first here, enjoyed doing it, it was well received. So it’s odd that I’ve lost my confidence.
The description of the one who is dealing with not being forgiven resonates with this situation. Losing my confidence in my ability to present something that I have done well and enjoyed many times, sounds a lot like the description of the effects on a person of not being forgiven: “recrimination, isolation, and shame.”