Memoirs of a 12-year-old

Sara lay sleeping in her grandparents guest bed, dreaming of all the mod, wide-striped clothing and colorful little plastic things she wanted at the K-Mart down on the corner. Wandering through that store alone, by herself, was freedom.

Soon her dreams were disturbed by a deep cringing in her bones and an ache in her groin, like she wanted to jump out of her skin and run, a feeling she’d noticed first on that day, in that bed.

Imprisoned in a body consumed with bone cringes and groin aches that came and went over the years in different situations, she found many ways to avoid her Mother. Sometimes the pain arose when the woman wanted to kiss her hello or goodbye, other times while hugging closely, and strangely, always while her Mother ate. Sara couldn’t bear to be in her presence as she watched the chomping and talking, all with her mouth open, food falling from that horrible trench in her face.

She became an unwilling expert in dimensional shifts.

Sara talked about these discombobulated feelings with therapists, spiritual teachers, psychic readers and friends during 20-plus years of self-exploration. Sometimes even a few pictures would appear as her words carved out the emotional scene, winding-up her body so tensely, her head would shake.

Out of all those people, and all those years, no one really understood what she was trying to say until her brother mentioned something off-hand one day. Nearly 40 years after that first benchmark before middle school, she’d found someone who used the very same words, about the very same circumstances, to describe how he felt.

It was a body memory, just like hers. And right there, from inside the boy who had terrorized her as a witness to his own horrific experiences, was the first part of her long-awaited answer, someone who finally and forever, understood.

Copyrighted by the Energetic Connection 2012

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Reflections

Sara hunched lonely, nestling herself into a rock throne on the outcropping. She’d shined that seat many times over the years when self-reflection was a driving necessity, always looking Westward for her answers.

Today though, it was all about rumination and a conversation she’d had with one of the more prominent and secretly judgmental townspeople. The woman was typically abusive; kindly and different out in the world than she was in her home.

The words she spoke to Sara days ago wouldn’t go away; her passive-aggressive energy was poisonous and omnipresent, and the pressure of the critique continued to pulse against the inside of Sara’s forehead, driving her to rant crazily.

It would’ve been less a trigger for her if the woman’s reaction hadn’t included a vicious statement about Sara’s supposed lack of heart. She knew it was projection, though its stinger went deep into an old unresolved wound. It would have been less a trigger if the woman hadn’t been her Mother.

Sara began to sob, deep sadness coursing through her body. Her tears were for everyone, especially her Mother, dropping, pooling and softening the dry-baked ground to one day receive the seeds.

Copyrighted by the Energetic Connection 2012