Apologizing to my Chakras

My journal has been my best friend for a few years now; the secret for me to reengage when I am done with one is to go to the store and browse until I find the one that calls my name.

I believe that everything happens for a reason, everything is divinely set-up on our paths; even the things that hurt us to the point of depression, or worst, life endangerment.

It took me long to find myself in a space where I was able to forgive my past; people, things, events, ect that hurt me; it took me a while to make peace with life happening FOR me not TO me.

Is no secret I had a horrible childhood and for some people my horrible is a soft launch comparison to theirs, which is okay, I am not here to compete "who had the worst childhood" I am here to make conversations happen at dinner tables, I am here to give strength to those that might need it, I am here as proof that even if you are a product of your environment, you have the choice to break the cycle or stay in it.

I remember the first time my rape story was brought up to the front lines of my own mind; the mind has a way to block tragic events to where we almost forget, yet we see the scars on the daily. It was after hearing about a young girl's experience through my then wife; I got so defensive without realizing it, my then wife talked me through it and explained that just because someone is willing to talk about their experience so publicly did not mean I had to do the same: which in term she was 100% correct.

Now, this particular one hit close to home because it was very close to home; and it triggered so much anger towards the subject, the event and the people's response that surrounded the drama. I tried to throw it back to the back of my mind but I was unable to and so the anger got it's own flame and the fire was making it's trail to my heart.

We were celebrating Christmas , I think it was the first or second time my mother visited me after our long separation; I got drunk and I screamed at her in front of everyone, I told her about my experience full of anger and confusion, I told her everything there was to tell and everyone around us became unimportant as I started to realize that my anger had manipulated my Ego and now I was pouring out hurt.

As she made her way to the door, without explanation, without confrontation, without comfort, without anything I thought I needed from her at that moment, I cried, I cried and I watched as everyone else left our apartment; I felt embarrassed, I felt like I was 6 years old again, I felt so alone in my pain.

The question everyone asks is; have you forgiven HIM? and the answer will always be, is not my job to forgive him, is my job to forgive myself for becoming my own punching bag, for hurting myself more thinking it might had been my fault, for not listening to little Lucy when she screamed for help, for allowing someone to take MY power and use it as theirs.

I understand the silence, I understand what the looks from across the room mean when you get a little bit too confidant and start telling your mom about a pain in your private part, I understand the threats that seem to become more an more realistic as time passes because you start to see their behavior change.

I started writing about my experiences, not only my rape because I wanted to make an image instead of a single pixel, as humans our minds question everything, and without judgement we wonder the background of these experiences that we only capture a pixel of; stories that are in the media world, stories that we might hear about, stories that we are not first responders to, and though we might only have that one pixel our minds make up an image, an image that motivate us or that scare us.

My childhood took my crown for long, very long, I was standing still afraid of my own power because my experiences were a tinted version of a princess story in Disney, come to realize I was never meant to be a princess, I was destine to be a Queen.

XOXO

Lucy