My Secret Brain

I am still surprised at how my brain continues to protect me from things I may not be strong enough to confront.
I have been lucky in being able to have confronted my demons and casting them from my being.
However just because I have does not mean that I am aware of all the damage that truly has accrued given my brain’s propensity for protecting me.
You might wonder what the heck I am talking about and I will explain.
I have had the limited series The Keepers from Netflix on my To Watch list.
About the death of a nun in 1969 and what happened and why.
Watched the first episode or two and found myself drawn in.
Cried when the brother of another murdered young woman told how he had identified his sister where she lay to save his parents the burden.
To this day that is the last memory he has of her.
I cannot even fathom the level of pain that they are still carrying around.
I believe it is episode three (I could be wrong I was letting it play as I wrote and read) when there was the introduction of another woman and what had happened during this time period for her.
I first realized I had missed something when I came back to ‘he would call me a whore and pray over me as they did things to me and I to them.’
Whoa okay so I rewind and begin again.
Wait what how did I miss that again?
Rewind again.
And again how did I miss what is going on.
Fourth time I got to where it took her five tries to walk to the confessional and again realized I was missing something pertinent.
Fifth time ‘If I had never gone to confession that day.
This is my 6th time rewinding and I put down the phone.
I set the laptop down.
I focus on the t.v. and watch.
In this segment the woman is telling how she had been sexually abused by an uncle.
He was a pedophile.
After telling the priest about the abuse and the lingering guilt that she-the victim-was carrying around he asked to see her and know her name.
She was horrified thinking that this was such a grievous sin he had to actually put a face and name to what was suppose to be anonymous confession.
No he was a classic abuser but I see that given what I know and I am an adult watching a young woman who believed and trusted that the priests in her life were there to care and help her not use her abuse against her.
We are talking 1969 when people still observed all the catholic tenets.
It was the last sentence she made as in the recreation she was walking away from the confessional.
‘He told me that he was going to have to pray on this. That it was such a large sin that he did not know if god could forgive her.’
This is where I stopped the show.
I will go back eventually but I realized what was going on.
I was brought up catholic.
I was brought up to believe in the all powerful god who watches over and subjugates us to terrible pain and suffering to gain his love.
I was brought up to believe that one did not question the men who taught us the word of the lord.
I was 14 when I lost faith.
I was 14 when I ran away from home because I did not know how to cope with what I was going through.
I was 14 when my world began to turn.
I was 45 before I was able to set those demons to rest.
And I no longer believe.
I cannot put faith or trust in a being that we are taught to fear and blindly follow.
We are taught that these abusers are handpicked by god to be his mouthpiece.
This is not a rant against religion.
This is about my brain protecting me.
It only happens that the show I am watching contains religion due to the subject matter.
I had three days of torturous hell when I broke.
Or my mind broke.
Or the barrier I had erected fell down.
One single act was all it took and memories returned.
Not all but enough that I knew what happened to me.
I finally understood truly that vile voice in my head that said no one cared.
I finally was able to understand why I was killing myself with OTC muscle relaxants.
I finally was able to put my pieces back together after so many years of running and hiding from my truth.
What I do not know is the extent.
My brain is one of the most secretive and protective in the world.
But I am okay with that vault in my mind that has been drenched in concrete/chains wrapped around/dropped into an abyss with like a gazillion locks protecting me.
Because as I have said time and time again this is protection that keeps me safe and sane.
And for that I tip my hat to my brain which knows me better then I know myself.
©November 8/20
Picture is my own

Untitled Dark Poem #4

Never guess
smile on my lips
light in my eyes
beneath it all
I weep
sorrow everlasting
not able to tell
not able to reach
time 
again
time
told everything is fine
one will believe
never seeing evidence
of cracks
within the soul
slathered over
tar
paper
hiding whipped child
hiding vicious lies
whispered 
again
again
while looking in mirror 
dead eyes staring back
mouth agape
no one 
sees
small child
entrapped
beating
screaming 
to be let out
to be taken out
to be cared for
not discarded in pain
shrieks abound
stifled by walls in own mind
walk slow shuffle
can you forgive me
can you forget
the little girl inside
she had to come out
she had to break free
she had to…..
consume me.
 
©Nov. 7/20
Picture via Pinterest