Coming back

I knew you were there. You had been silently stalking me from the shadows for a while. Subtly at first, however instantly I sensed your arrival. My body automatically recoiled at the recognition of your presence. My heart started to freeze, the hair on my skin stood on end and my soul suddenly curled into the foetal position. The memories from your last visit were still etched into my mind, body and soul. I didn’t think you would ever come back or rather, I hoped you wouldn’t.

I didn’t tell anyone of your presence. I couldn’t.  For as long as I could, I tried to ignore you. I refused to accept or acknowledge you. It helped me to pretend to everyone else that you weren’t there.

At first I could ignore your whispers and the accusations. I didn’t believe it when you told me I was a failure, a poor mother, not worthy. So then you started to yell them as you moved from the shadows into the foreground. Your screams and yells became so loud that I couldn’t block them out and they began to be the only things I heard.

I tried to run away from you and all your chaos. I told myself if I could outrun you then I could get away from you but the harder I ran, the more you chased me. I kept running until everything start to look the same. I felt myself running in circles, getting more & more disorientated and even more tired. Finally I fell, or you pushed me and I could feel myself falling again.

The fall wasn’t as deep this time. Having fallen before I know how to land and in order to be able to get out again, I had to pull you down there with me. There at the bottom, I confront you as I am no longer able to deny your presence.

Once confronted, you start to lose your power. The darkness starts to dissipate a little and I can see a small light. Its bright enough for me to see the path I took last time I fell. The ascent is not as long or as hard as the last time. This time I know where to go and what to do.

Once I reach the top, I know you are no longer there. The whispers and accusations have stopped and I start to piece together the jigsaw. I achieve little success and learn I am not a failure. I start to reconnect with my children again and learn I am not a bad mother and slowly start to believe that I am worthy again.

It is at this point, that I can tell others of your presence.




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