My kids were over today. I so enjoy their visits. Even all the noise and the messes the little ones make. Today's visit was different. Unsettling. Not because we didn't get along -- because we did. But because stories were told. Stories I couldn't remember.
As S was telling the story, I knew he was telling a family story. A story about my husband and children. I just couldn't remember it happening. Part of me wanted so much for it to be someone else's story -- not mine. It wasn't a happy story. It was a story with hurt, pain and sadness woven all through it.
It left me hurting and empty and questioning where had those memories gone and why I couldn't remember? And, if those two stories retold today are missing, how many other stories are lost as well?
Today I feel like I don't even know myself.
Today I feel missing and incomplete.
Today betrayal trauma has injured my ability to cope and recall my story.
I'm working my step 4, writing my personal inventory, and wondering how can I truly and honestly complete this inventory when I'm missing and incomplete?
My sponsor suggested I take what I have written so far and pray about it. I've put the inventory on hold for now and placed my journal by my bed to read and pray about. I'm praying I find myself.
I feel so very sad for those lost pieces of me. It reminds me of the years of moving around during our military days and having all my belongings boxed up in storage. The homes we lived in then weren't home to me because so much of me wasn't there. I feel like that now and hoping the Lord will place that lost box of me before me as I kneel at my bed searching for knowledge and truth.
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