I was raped nearly 9 years ago. It took several years before I could say I'd worked through the aftermath and felt I could call myself a survivor. It's been a struggle. And it's not done - little reminders crop up, unexpected. Little triggers come at me out of the blue.
Like the mornings when Elliot crawls into bed with me and, eventually, puts his hands on my stomach, under my shirt. I overreact every. single. time. Push him off the bed, yell at him, jump out of bed and run from the room, slap his hands away... I've done all of those, and more. And he looks at me, eyes full of hurt and whispers that he just wanted to tickle me.
It's not his fault. This is my issue.
There are times I hear myself yelling at the boys to just STOP TOUCHING ME. Or to GET OFF OF ME. I can't sit down anywhere without one - if not both - of them climbing all over me, demanding hugs or "uppy". They want to touch me, pat me, rub my arms and sometimes it can make my skin crawl. Now this could very well be an overblown reaction to the complete lack of personal space I have these days, or it could have something to do with what happened 8 years ago. Whatever the case, I really need to deal with it an move on. Again.
Somedays I just don't want to have to struggle through anymore. I just want to be me; depressed, whiny, lazy and alone. That sounds like heaven. Then I look at the boys and see how lucky I am. Even though they have no concept of boundaries, even though they grind their little elbows and knees into me while I'm trying to read or sleep, even when they're jumping on my head or back when I try to do yoga, they are innocent and full of wonder. They have unconditional love and affection.
I know I don't take enough time to slow down, to just be with them, watching them learn and explore. I know I should. These magical little creatures are growing up way to fast. And dear hubs and I have to teach them to be good people. It's a daunting task that gives me more than just a bit of worry. We're shaping lives here and I feel I'm doing a crappy-ass job of it. When Elliot jumps on his brother, demanding a hug or a toy and Felix says no but Elliot goes ahead anyway, I catch my breath, because in a second, I'll be yelling at him to LISTEN WHEN SOMEONE SAYS NO. Life is fierce, and it shapes you.
...And those are the thoughts swirling around in my head this rainy morning.