her

her. the other side of me. little me. no - no - no - no - not me! HER.

i can see her in my mind's eye. she has brown, straight, shoulder length hair, big brown eyes and a child's body. about 7 years old. she is sleepwalking. standing at the foot of her parents' brown wood waterbed. i have no memory of this. simply a picture and an explanation - a story i was told that i now repeat. but the face in the picture - it's hers. mine from then. staring blankly off into space.

she doesnt know. she is oblivious to the world. just there. red velvet robe. i remember that robe - its soft texture and the silly way the zipper didnt go all the way to the bottom like a regular robe, you had to step into it. long soft sleeves with ruffles on the shoulders. typical for the early 80's. she is unaware she is to fall in love with a puppy only to lose it. she is unaware of anything. she's sound asleep. yet walking.

i want to holler at her. to scream, to yell, to shake her. wake up! wake up! but she doesnt have a clue. she doesnt know. i am jealous of that deep sleep - walking or not, as i sit here after midnight typing thoughts instead of catching z's. been thinking a lot tonight. mainly how different and separate we are - she and i.

my son is 8 now. just had a birthday - only slightly older then she was - right about there anyway. god, i know the expectations i put on that little girl are outrageous. a dear friend of mine that's also a survivor, talking to her about the same issue in her life, made me realize how much i expected is unreasonable and what a terrible position for someone so young to face...

yeah, i know... am rambling... just using this safe place to vent again. to think.

what do i want from her? i want her not to have endured that. i want the memories of that awful table to be gone - for it not to be real. and so i fight this war. i am so so so so so so so angry with her for surviving, for doing whatever it took to live but never making it stop or getting help. and she returns that anger with child like indignation only a little kid can muster. i left her. i left her there on that table. with the shadow people. or on the bathroom floor at home. i left her. i threw everything on her shoulders and headed out and left her alone to face it. face him. them.

we both want one another dead. got me a trip to the hospital last week. yep. psych ward. no - not kidding. turned out a lot of the problem was my meds. they changed them up 'cause i had a bad mix. but still - even now, her weakness still is costing me time, energy, help and hope. i cant feel anything good for her because all i see when i look at her is a mousey, quiet, weak little girl who complied without question and never stopped it.

god, it was awful. so so much to go thru. i know the next step in the journey is accepting her. just have no clue how. i see with my logical head it was him but when it all comes down to it, i still hold her accountable.

how could she possibly have allowed it?

ugh. i hate her.