deep subjects: part one

we went camping with jasons parent's and brother over the weekend. we woke up to an amazing view of a crystal lake every morning and played cards and roasted s'mores long into every night. i'll choose to look over the obvious aggravations that come with such an extended outdoorsy stay in the closeness that only family can afford. aside from the occasional hiccups, it was lovely.

somehow, the men convinced me to tag along to the rifle range with them on saturday. it's been a long time since i held a gun, and as my father in law demonstrated how not to jam the chamber on his .22, i swallowed a lump in my throat, determined not to revisit that past. the only woman at the range that day, i managed to shoot very well for my first time ever successfully pulling a trigger. 'even got a hundred yard target that none of the men could quite make. after some affectionate pats on the back, the rest of the weekend i was known as lil' annie oakley. that made me smile.

i've been many places in my life. with 2 fathers in the military; one a truck driver as well, i was blessed with an opportunity to travel. i've seen 39 of our beautiful united states. lived in 6 of them. some places will always hold more meaning than others.

some people find it depressing, the thought of living in the pacific northwest. for me, that area of the country will forever walk a sacred, bittersweet hallway of my heart. for it saw me thru both a death and rebirth in my life.

it was there, where my first husband took from me my youth, my innocence, my heart. where i really truly questioned God. where i held a gun for the first time and attempted suicide. where i collapsed in a heap on the floor when the chamber jammed. it was there, where i first learned to run, and subsequently hide, from God and from myself. where i endured unrelenting abuse in every possible definition of the word. where i learned about sexual addiction and the nightmare that trails in its wake. where i got guts, street smarts. there, where i learned the importance of not alienating yourself from the people that truly love you. where i was abandoned by my church in the name of the sanctity of marriage. it was there, where my husband tried to kill me.

its not often, i allow myself these memories, tainted with so much pain. and yet, seattles' rain through all of it, was my saving grace. and so i color these memories with the rain. unlike any other rain i've ever known. it was always a comfort to me, then. it remains a fond friend, now.

i am lost, my friends. i feel worn down, body and soul. and i miss the rain.

when there comes a moment, ever the briefest, i will sit down and reflect on these things, and they will fall quietly into place. i will understand what needs to come first. i will get back up and try again.

but tonite, i hurt. tonite, i'm broken. i am shattered in a million different pieces on a million different shores and i cry.

i feel overcome and overwhelmed. as tho i'm standing against the tide in a relentless ocean. the waves keep knocking me down and every time i get back up, i'm hit even harder. i'm running out of breath and i don't know that i can stand back up again. i don't know that i have that strength anymore. i want so badly to be saved.

and instead, i'm alone.

i know that i am not. my heart, not my head, tells me this. and i know that you precious few sit beside me on this journey as well.

but tonite, i'll allow myself to hurt. to truly feel this.

the tears come at the most inopportune times, these days. while bathing *flow*. while peeling potatoes for supper. while helping bella with homework. while taking frank out to walk. while turning over in the middle of the night, jason sound asleep.

i wonder sometimes if i will ever, ever get to the other side or this pitch black abyss that swallows me whole on my most vulnerable days.

in counseling tues. night, ed asked me to go back. way back. and it took my breath away. every time he asked me to pray, i couldn't bring myself to close my eyes. it was too painful, that flood of memories slapping me in the face. he eventually let it go, moving on in our session. but it left me drained.

i want to let it go. let it all go. let God take it. but there's this brick wall staring me in the face and my fingers feel bloody and mangled from trying to claw my way through it.

i saw k& candace the other day. i knew it was inevitable. in a town this small, you're bound to cross paths at some point. i know it to be entirely possible that candace sees me every day as i walk up the path to work and she on her way taking brooke to kindergarten.

jason and i had the radio on, driving up into the walmart parking lot. we were laughing, on our way to look at supplies for our upcoming camping trip. and then, there they were, unloading the girls and groceries into their car. for just a split second, k looked up and i impulsively gagged.

i felt like i'd been punched in the stomach, the wind knocked out of me.

and all the forgiveness and abounding, unconditional love i'm supposed to be working on? replaced instantly by unadulterated fear. blood boiling anger. resentment. hurt. sooooo much hurt. there was just his face. the man that raped me. my husbands best friend. jason put his hand over mine, unconsciously gripping the edge of my seat, and veered the car in the opposite direction. he parked, and silently, we walked side by side in the store.

i know that seeking a therapist is the right decision in my life, right now. its a beginning, a start at healing, where i've spent too much time running, and not in any direction i need to be running towards. i don't know that i've chosen the right therapist for me, but i sense, almost, that this decision was not mine to make. i feel sometimes, that *eds* presence is far more for jason than myself. and, strangely enough, that intrigues me.

i'm always hyper-critical when it comes to therapists/counselors/psychologists and the like. i analyze, if its possible, more than they do. if i had one of their yellow ledger pads, my pen would be flying off the page.

i saw my first counselor at age 14, for issues relating to my birth-dad. already, i was of that mindset, on edge, and was seasoned at masking and suppressing true hurts. sometimes, i feel like i was never truly a child. i was already an old soul by the age of 2.

ed is inconsistent. he is forgetful, often insensitive and completely off the mark. he's cheesy at all the wrong moments and for the life of me, insists on calling me kate. i ask you, how difficult is it to remember a name like kat byrd ??? {and as you collectively gasp at my impropriety, my brazen declaration of my real name, i'll smile, and tell you that i worked hard for many, many years at hiding. i was excellent at it. after all, my first husband had been on the police force. i simply have no reason to hide anymore. } but ed is also human. and in his imperfect form, he is also beautiful and precious, in his own way. he challenges me. he holds me accountable. and he pushes me further than i'm willing to go. after all, i'm a tough code to crack. i'll admit that.

i see why he is a pastor. i see why he is credited in books. in not one, but many. why he is on james dobson's list.

and strangely enough, he is vulnerable with me. the past 3 counselors i've been to, have, at some point, poured out their hearts to me. i don't know why.... maybe it has something to do with the nurturer thing everyone always defines me as. whatever the reason, and however somewhat innapropriate, i'm also humbled that they choose to lay their head on my shoulder.

at any rate, i've been irritated, even angry, with ed, and more than a few times. lest i recount my last post, for one. what i need to remember as the most important thing i can take from any of these sessions, is that he's my sounding board. and he might have advice. it may even be great advice. but it may not be the right thing for me.

its been a tough last couple of weeks.....i am currently on day 20 of the unrelenting Period From The Depths of Hell. awaiting medical answers, i'm exhausted at putting on a brave face and cowgirling up, and not a little bit drained. top that off with all this dredging up of old, ugly demons from a past i'd thought long since buried, i'm at my limit.

ed defined our characters based on the wizard of oz, the other day. jason got to be toto, damn him. he always gets away with entirely too much crap.

i, on the other hand, am likened to the wizard. and the cowardly lion. i have a hug that melts marshmallows and i'm the big mama bear ~ rough and gruff and tough on the outside.....but really just a cloud of smoke and a puddle of mush on the inside. entirely accurate, true. but still hard to hear, all the same. the trouble is, i've taken on this role for so long, i'm completely lost without it. i've always, always taken care of. i don't know how to be taken care of. i don't even know what that feels like. every time i've dared to try, i've been dropped so hard its nearly been the death of me. i've been tested and tried; burned.

all i heard tuesday night was my voice. jason nervously clearing his throat. ed, filling up a notebook. and then i cried. and i cried so much that i cried some more. and i hate it when i cry. i hate that whole gutteral process, how my nose snots up and no kleenex is strong enough. i look and sound ridiculous and i can't catch my breath, and then ed held out his arms and i about drowned in that single solitary moment of comfort. he brushed the hair out of my eyes and said quietly, "just hold on until you're ready to let go."

all is not right in my world. it most certainly isn't. and i find myself still not ready to let go.