The Walking Wounded

I have a lot to say today. 

Loads.

I am bursting at the seams but I keep placing my hands over the tears to prevent eruption.

This is not an easy thing to surpress.  The story I have to tell is also not a very easy one to share.

I think I will start with a gift.


My cousin Gizelle, who I have called Gigila for years, sent me a text to tell me that everytime she heard this song it made her think of me. I had never heard the song before. I googled. I listened.  I was reminded.

Do you know the hardest part of my life right now?

Shame.

I carry a heavy burden of shame.  I know that the abuse I suffered as a little girl was not my fault.  That is the easy part for me to understand.

The shame comes from the suffering twenty years later.  The shame is related to my apparent competence to conquer goals and yet I still find myself unable to will the first ten years of my life away.  I can’t pour the ashes in my hand and blow them away.  In fact, the opposite is true.  The wind seems to cover me in the ashes.

I am a strong woman.  I am.  

That is where I carry my shame.  I should be able to handle this by now.  My past is not a secret from anyone.  It is not a surprise for me.  I have avoided his shame for years.  I was determined to always share it.  The shame was his to bear and I wasn’t going to keep his secret.

The shame I carry is a call to humility.  An admittance of humanity.

I seem to speak in a language full of song lyrics these days.  Here is another one that carries weight for me. In Sade’s King of Sorrows, she says,

I have already paid for all my future sins
There’s nothing anyone
Can say to take this away…

The truth is, none of us have paid for our future sins.  The even more painful truth is, that some of us are paying for sins committed against us by others.  There is no escaping that.  
Yesterday, after the gift of the song, I found a bracelet at target for $2.84. (SCORE!!) It is purple, my favorite color, and it has peace doves all around it.  I grabbed it. I bought it.  I built an outfit for it and sent a photo to my brave baby bird cousin.


We will call it an amulet, a totem or a very cool funky bracelet that reminds me of who I am.  I am struggling with the sins of the past.  It makes me angry at God.  It makes connecting with people difficult.  It makes me feel like I am rolling on a cheese grater.  
It does not make me weak.  It makes me one of the walking wounded.  It makes me brave.  It ties me to the rock that will not be pushed into the sea.  

I am sharing this with you because I recognize that the moment I feel shame – the moment I feel like hiding, is the moment I carry his shame.  

*sigh*

Shame I will not carry. Sing with me….


Your a bravebird

You put yourself on the line
When you shared your secret with the world
You saved another mothers child as she speaks you can tell that
The words are not easy to say
They hold the power to transport her back to that impossible day
But she hasn’t any regrets
Cuz’ she won’t become a woman with a secret
Of a pain




4 thoughts on “The Walking Wounded

  1. Tashmica-you are incredible. What a journey.
    I've just read through (including the links). You are making something beautiful out of tragedy. Keep wearing that amulet-even if it's not on your wrist!

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