Since August is my birthday month, I began to think about my birth.
I don’t have any baby pictures to reflect on. I don’t have stories of the day I was born. I don’t have locks of hair or my first spoon. I don’t have my first anything. When My son was born, there were no baby pictures to compare his too.
My mom told me that she had the German Measles when she was pregnant with me and that they tried to get her to abort me. I don’t know if that story is true or not? Maybe she just said that so I’d be grateful for my life. Or maybe she said it to give her ownself props. I really don’t know.
Many times, over the past year, I have questioned my existance. Was my life really suppossed to happen? Did anyone want me? And I don’t mean now, because thankfully people do show me that they love me. But was I just born for the purpose of being an object for sick people to use an abuse?
At times it has felt almost like a cruel joke. It seems like God has allowed the worst kinds of things to happen to me. Why would He do that? I was so little and so helpless.
As I think back through my childhood, I can remember always feeling so lost. So invisible. So absent. I remember always feeling like I was on this long leash, and would only be brought back in to be abused. And then put back out on the leash. I don’t remember even desiring to matter or be loved because I didn’t know I was suppossed to have that. I didn’t know what that was suppossed to feel like.
So since the hurricanes, I have begun to re-live those feelings. I felt so absent from life because the nightmares and memories have literally consumed my whole year. I have had to work hard each day to stay grounded and remember that I am not that child anymore. I’m not helpless. I’m not small. I’m not voiceless.
My therapist tells me all the time that I know why I’m here. I just have to walk into it. I believe she is right. If the only reason I was born is to tell this story, then that is what I must do. If the only reason I suffered at the hands of these monsters is so that one person can find hope, then I must tell the story.
I don’t pretend to understand God or His plan in all of this. At this point I feel like I’m sort of just along for the ride. But eventually, I need to get in the driver’s seat and let God teach me how to drive.
For today I’m not a liscensed driver but I’m learning to watch for the signs along the road. Eventually, I’m going to have to start moving forward again with the power of my own two feet.
Not only do I want to drive again, but I want to learn how to fly.
I am a baby in this journey of recovery and so thankful for all of those who loved me and have welcomed me home.
Until next time – I am being MJ Every Day.