I had a rough week.  The tapestry of my life had more of its edges tattered and torn, and the constant of change was heavy on my heart this week.  I don’t react well to loosing the positive past parts of my life.  I feel as though my life is falling away from me.  I spent a good deal of the week teary-eyed and reflective.  Anxiety eventually got to me and I retreated for an afternoon to just shut my eyes and get some rest.

Yesterday at work, I sat, listening to music, music that was stirring me up, my thoughts churning in reflection of everything in my life (no wonder I am so exhausted this week).  I drifted to the present where I have recently had a few painful interactions with people, one with a person I trusted and another with a person I do not.  Often, I have this habit where I blame myself for what happened.  I loathe myself for not being perfect, for loosing control, for letting my emotions get away from me.  I drifted to how I am still recovering from the hurt I experienced while in an abusive relationship, and being sexually assaulted by a stranger.  Sometimes I really hate that.  I beat myself up for not being able to just be positive and in control all the time, to be healed already.  I had tears over that.

“How could you do this to me?” a little voice came from within. “How could you do this to me?” – and I felt something shift within me.  The question was directed at the man who raped me.  I knew that was exactly who it was for.  It was new, a very new feeling that came with this question.  I felt real compassion for myself in that moment, like I hadn’t experienced – like a full shifting of the responsibility where it belonged.  Onto him, onto that man.

How could you do this to me?

I move forward with a gratitude that I have found a new layer in healing, a shifting of the burden off myself.  A real sense of compassion and love, acceptance and acknowledgement that something really awful was done to me.  I move forward in compassion.