Salve

Hello Lovelies! Today I wanted to share a little personal glimpse. This is from about...a week ago maybe? And it involves a couple little boys who visit my neighborhood often to see THEIR family, and who I've seen before. It was still in my neighborhood but it was under different circumstances, and I wasn't alone then, which would have been nice in this situation as well. It's handy to be able to stay quiet in a conversation that makes you uncomfortable, and just allow the other person to answer all the questions you don't know how to answer off-hand. Alas, as functioning "adults" in the world today we can't always be accompanied in every instance, can we? Sometimes we just have to "boss up" and handle our own business all by ourselves--yea though it isn't easy:) So I was out talking to my neighbor briefly; I had dashed outside to avoid missing him, which I always seem to do, and I didn't miss him! In fact, we had just finished our conversation when those two adorable boys I mentioned came rolling up on their scooters. As they had done before when I'd seen them, they peppered me with curious questions "why is your eye like that?", "Does he live with you?" "Do you live here?"...and on and on. I was prepared and happy to answer them; as I've said, we'd met before and I was used to their onslaught. Besides, as the adult, I like to make life easier for kids if I can, knowing as I do that life ISN'T easy when you're a kid. A huge part of making life easier for kids is patiently answering their questions, so I did. Eventually I tried to kindly excuse myself back inside my house...I think I said I had to go make dinner. And as I turned away, lovelies, one of the sweet boys asked the other one curiously, "what's wrong with her?" And suddenly and unexpectedly, only for an instant, I was their ages again:( I heard the voices of my bullies, felt their eyes on me as hobbled jerkily without my walker back up the path to my door, and I had to swallow my sadness hard. They WERE just kids. How else would they react to seeing someone who walked differently--especially as differently as I do? But oh my Lord what that has done to my psyche! One little comment probably forgotten by the speaker in one minute. Not by the listener. I could go on and on. Not just about how this triggered my PTSD and felt just like someone driving a 2X4 down across my sloped shoulders as I turned my back. Not just about how "kids these days have no respect!" and all the expected reactions. But about how comments like this, suffered over and over and over again in my childhood and into my young adulthood most likely (though I've learned to ignore them so I don't quite remember) have oddly built a stairway of slippery stones to the person I am today. As painful as they are, given the gift of maturity I can appreciate that those comments were not intended to hurt me. Kids are kids, and they are curious--if raised correctly. The world around them holds endless wonder, which I can now see as a spectacular thing, and one that lead them to ask questions that perhaps weren't phrased with a conscious avoidance of hurting my feelings. Why would they be? I just think it's crazy how a one-liner from a completely unfamiliar kid--seen only once or twice before in passing--could throw me into such turmoil after ALL THESE YEARS, including multiple stints in therapy. But the wounds suffered in childhood can been the deepest, and the most resistant to the antiseptic of counseling. When inflicted on you as a child, wounds are hitting new, unblemished skin and an unbruised heart. A soul that is as yet unmarred by how cruel life can be. A wound in childhood is like adding insult to injury, in every sense of the word because the wound insults a child. So no wonder I haven't healed. No wonder a comment triggers "my sad." No wonder I have to talk myself off the veritable ledge about the boy who asked a question because he was curious. I'M curious too! Not about myself of course:) But it is an adventure to learn about myself all these years into my life and discover things I wasn't told. For example that there is abso-frickin'-lutely NOTHING out of the ordinary about what I have to deal with; indeed EVERYONE'S got something going on that they deal with. It's more unusual (and boring if you ask me) not to struggle with something. So without a doubt, I do not fault these two boys for their curiosity. I hope they're always curious. Particularly about people. Who knows? Maybe this encounter will stick with the boy who uttered the (innocently) ignorant question, and he'll grow up to be an advocate for disabled adults, or a social worker with CPS, or a psychologist--or a linquist specializing in how to ask sensitive questions! Amazing how retrospect can bandage up a re-opened wound.