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I don't really know how to explain this to you. Maybe writing it out will help.

Do you know how past trauma shows up in the present? In the now?

Sometimes I wish I didn't know this. Wish I didn't have this awareness. Because the past fucking shows up in my body. And right now - it's the screams I hear in my ears. It's the chaos of sound that happens when all my parts talk at the same time. It's amusing really - the different voice tones; how some just scream, some just cry, some are just weird noises.

Then, its the nails that rake down my back. This is amusing too, because first I thought it felt like someone sinking their ragged fingertips into my flesh while standing behind me. But now I know, this demon isn't outside. She does it from the inside. She lives inside my back. It's a cold dark damp place, and mostly she sits huddled, her face hidden in her knees. She's one of the most hurt part of me, and she's just a kid. You'd never guess that when she rips everything to shreds.

After that there's the slow moving poison in my veins. Which I can actually feel. First I wondered if what was in my veins was acid or fire, but no, those act too fast, burn too much; it would be easy to be overwhelmed. It's poison because the toxins are so beautifully balanced to induce just enough pain to drive me insane but juuuuust enough to keep me from blocking it out.

All these things happening at the same time. In beautiful chaos. One peaks, the other gives way, one pushes aside the other, another just pauses and restarts out of nowhere, a different tempo there, a garbled melody here - just one thing in common: physical, tangible pain.

Different parts of me react differently to all this:

The parts that have healed or are whole are the first to show up. You can see Joy, Stability, Rationality in the room, among others. They're all from the same place - Love. At this point, things are fine. It's really okay. I feel centered and able to radiate love in abundance. I am calm and free in my own skin. No expectations. Nothing. 

Then the floor starts shaking. Initially, just a little. Then more. 

Joy stumbles and hits the floor. Stability passes out. Rationality spectacularly loses his head. Everyone slowly clears out. Before the room empties, come the big guns. 

Anger. Rage. Being-taken-for-granted. 

Any feel-good bloke still in the room is unceremoniously kicked out. Things in the room start breaking. The noise level increases. There's blood. Conversation in the bar is along the lines of:

- How dare he
- Let me at him, I just have to punch him in the gut
- I give all this space and this is what I get for it, someone taking me for granted, great
- I don't need this shit
- I deserve better
- This is his fault

Then there are parts of me that have started running away. Fast. 

"I don't have to go through this. This is not going to work. I like him, but this isn't worth it. I don't want to. I'm leaving. I'm not coming back. I can't do this on my own." 

So much resistance to feeling the pain. So much strain that I move from the unconditional love end of the spectrum to transactional love -

"Why should I do so much for someone who can't even do this for me?"

After a while, the trauma settles into my skin. Then something happens: 

Observation happens. I notice that I'm in reaction. That parts of me that still need healing are showing up behind my reins. That this is first and foremost, harming me. Then, it seeps into the space I share with him and enrages that. Then, it infiltrates into everything I do that day.

At this point, Wisdom kicks in and I breathe.

Deep breaths.

First, the parts of me that have run away slowly come back. Reminds me of this song that goes like: 

"I'll show up at the table; again and again and again". 

This is literally true because it doesn't happen in one go. Two steps forward three back. Three forward two back. This is my endurance. That after all the confusion and pain, I still consciously chose to walk back to him. I'm not sure if this endurance has a breaking point yet. I don't know because I've never been the first one to leave the table. I also believe in having no breaking point. Maybe I should set boundaries. But what happens to being completely open?

Second, I talk with my reactions. My "demons". It's difficult, but I freaking look them in the eye. Talk to them in soothing voices. Sing to them. Sing with them. Hug them. Slowly, they stand up to show what they were sitting on, trying to protect - parts of me that were so hurt by his actions, that felt rejected, abandoned, uncared and unloved. I thank my demons for trying to protect me the only way they knew how. They nod. Feeling reassured, they leave me alone with the parts of me that are hurt.

Finally, I sit with these parts: 

All of these parts have few things in common. They are all hyper-sensitive empaths. They feel so deeply, that every emotion is expansive and intense. They love with all their hearts, but also break their hearts just as thoroughly. It does/doesn't help that they are extra sensitive to external stimuli.  Light. Sounds. Touch. It's so easy to feel overwhelmed. 

These traits aren't common in current society hence all these parts of myself are traumatized to a certain extent. They feel misunderstood. And alone. 

There's my current self - who is feeling sad that after all these years of revisiting trauma and healing, I am still repeating the same patterns. To her I say - 

"Patience is a Virtue. Hold yourself in Kindness, the way forward is Through." 

There's the adolescent me - who thinks she will never be enough for him. (It used to be "never good enough for him" but that was before all these years of self-love) That she's too this, too that. Insecure about her body. Insecure about her needs. Scared that her unusual and expansive personality would scare him away. So sometimes she tries to push him away before he can but mostly she needs him too much to go through with it. Wants him to want her. As much as she wants him. And then so much guilt for wanting him. Sigh. This one is a tough one, but to her I say - 

"You are so beautiful. Your needs are heard, and I am with you. We will figure this out together. We will love ourselves so fully, that it empowers the love we feel for him, instead of it draining us out. Come. It's our time to shine. Let's be the infinity we are." 

Then, arrrghhh. The big one: the little one. The little girl who lives in my back. Who has an uncanny way of marking her presence with her nails. On her good days, she's "why walk when you can dance", she's the most pure, joyful, sunshine radiating moonspirit you would have seen. That also means her new moon days engulf the endless darkness of the unlit skies. Shes's so hurt. So bruised. Cries a lot. Feels unloved. Neglected. Shame. Hates herself for having to ask for the attention. Sometimes I don't even know where to begin, what to say to all the feelings she goes through every single moment. So with her, I do the two things I know will help - I wait (This part is so important). I wait until she can see me through her tears. It is painful, but I wait till she calms down and lets go of my back in her own time. Slowly she acknowledges my presence. On a good day, her body language would shift and I'd give her the most crucial thing I can offer her - I hold her. Touch. It's so important to her.  And its the most causal of touches that work best. And sometimes she doesn't like to be touched and it gets a little complicated - either she is punishing herself by denying the very thing that she needs or she is under strain and touching would mean more stimuli than she can handle at that moment, and sometimes, very rarely, its because she already feels content and sated, so anything more would throw it off balance. Holy fuck. As I write this, I realize the simplicity of what needs to be said - 

Nothing. I am here and I will hold you as long as you need to be held.  

Deep breaths.

I should write more often. 

Except even before I start speaking to all these parts of myself I'm fucking exhausted. So I mostly just sit. Hoping that that's enough. That these parts will heal with just my mere presence. And objective observation (It is what works best actually).

I have come to realize in this winding journey (and write-up) that "healing" isn't just sitting with the parts of me that are hurt - which in itself is excruciating. But it's what happens from Moment Zero. It's the entire process of letting myself to feel everything I've just described in great detail in this write-up. It's me allowing. Allowing the physical pain. Allowing the mental. Allowing Joy. Allowing Rage. Allowing the transactional part of me. All of them! Allowing all parts of me to be with all my heart!

This then becomes moments where my awareness of the torture sits perfectly in line with the sensations, and I know my unadulterated strength. Knowledge that I can burn from within and relish it. Heal myself from myself indefinitely and continually evolve. Transcend myself.

I throw my head back and jog my body with mad laughter. 

This is so much fun. And all this because he didn't reply. 

Go figure.