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Personal Sharings / Healing Fragmentation

The BIG FAT Catch-22 Condundrum
To Trust or Not to Trust

pct - 1998

How do you trust someone who has beaten you to death and beyond more times than you can count?

How do you believe words of apology, when you've heard the same words laying the foundation for betrayal many many MANY times before?

After having the carpet yanked out from under you for the hundredth time, don't you finally begin to question your judgment in stepping onto the goddam thing?

I have so much rage. Real rage, that would rather destroy God and all his creations, myself included, than be alive one more day in this compression and slavery and torment without hope.

I have terrorage, that would rather lose parts of myself than give in to the sweet poison of hope.

Hope is a retarded child, holding out her hand one more time to be bitten off and left bleeding in the mud.


As I have cried and brought in more and more pieces and parts and fragments, I have felt more and more whole and together and strong. And it occurred to me that if we can become whole enough, healed enough to truly be in our power, we/I will never be a victim again. It won't be possible for God - or any of his fragments or denials - to hurt us, anymore, ever again.

I will heal all the places where I have denial, so I am no longer vulnerable to guilt, to being twisted and warped and made to feel crazy. I will heal all my own denied essence so that it no longer acts out on me and others in the world. I will heal all my fragments so none of us are out there alone, vulnerable to those who would use and abuse us. I will heal, and





THIS is the way for me to stop being a victim.

THIS is the way for me to finally be able to move the blaming rage that I've been holding rigid in frozen hands, like a shield above my head.
THIS is how I can take responsibility for MY part in all this.

I have let myself be a victim too long. I was open to being blasted, I let myself be ground down, I threw parts of myself away trying to get God's love and be safe. I don't blame myself for this. There was no way to know then, there was no opening in Spirit for me/us to speak our truth, show our process, let expression happen all the way to healing. I hold God accountable for his part, but I also take responsibility for the healing of myself and not ever allowing it to happen again. We had no choices, no alternatives, but now, I am the one who will stop it from happening again.

-- here is where my plan becomes the true test of trust, a holy-mother-of-god catch-22 --

I know I can't heal all this fragmentation and regain my power without help from God's light, I NEED God's love filling in places where there has only ever been unloving light, or no light at all. I have tried and tried, I have gone as far as I can go without help. Realizing that need, finally admitting that I can't do it alone, is one of the hardest things for me to face.

That means I have to trust the one I fear most in order to become whole enough to protect myself from the one I fear most.

Opening these dark clenched places is a painfully slow process. We move in teensy baby steps. It's the only way.

God, I still fear you in my most hidden places. I have parts that vow they will never NEVER let you in, that hate you with a rage that burns us from the inside but we don't care. I read your words and parts of me scream, "Liar!". But other parts hear your words and want to believe. Hope is small and still retarded, but I haven't killed her entirely. The war that rages within me will take time to heal. I move two steps forward toward the door, then inch back again. I know you're waiting outside that door. I have felt you approaching. So far you have been wise, you wait, you present yourself only when I ask for help, and then in the most harmless of imagery.

I have needed to hear you admit to and apologize for your heartless acts. I read your words over and over again, and I let them filter down into my secret heart, I let them trigger my heartbreak and rage and terror of the deception of hope. After I cry one layer, I read your words again, I allow myself to take another step toward the door.

I'm not ready to open the door yet. Can you wait? Can you let me lead in this? Can you wait for trust to build, inch by inch?

Behind this closed door, I am gathering my essence, my parts are healing together. I'm asking you to sit outside the closed door, listen to me while I cry my rage and grief and terror.

I'm asking you to listen through the door and occasionally make a murmur of comfort, but come no closer than that unless I ask you to!

But I'm telling you that if it turns out this is all a hoax, if we open the door finally to find it's all a lie, we won't lie down again. We won't let ourselves be broken again or cast out into the darkness, we won't be used ever again. Ever.

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