Life has become so out of control. Pieces of it lay broken on the floor. Some of them, were broken at my own hands. The pieces that have lain shattered on the floor of the garage where it all began decades ago must now somehow become whole again. In order to do that I must examine each piece. There’s no picking up pieces of shattered innocence without sharp edges. It’s delicate material and likely to cut deeply. It wasn’t broken at my hands, yet mine will be the hands that lovingly carefully put each tiny piece back to where it belongs, where it becomes whole again.
I had a therapist who once said, “Wouldn’t it be great be great if you could say ‘unfuck yourself’ to some people?” I can’t say that to anyone but me. This is my starting point. I believe that’s enough for now. Maybe it’s even enough to keep the nightmares away and make the self-destructive coping mechanisms unnecessary… for today.