I don't know why I am broken. I don't know if I was born that way of if it was the things that happened to me as a child. There's a good argument for both.
I do think if it were someone else, things would have been different ... better perhaps? Hard to know.
I believe there's a malleableness in childhood that interacts with who you are and impacts it.
I have thought... if only I had a refuge. Someone I could have confided in, who knew me, wanted me in their lives, and liked me for who I am... Someone I could remember and look back on... It's not that there was no one nice and caring .... A teacher at school, a counselor at camp, a priest at a conference. There was no one I could confide in (enough) and who knew enough to ask. By the time I was 13 and in high school I wonder if anything or anyone could have been enough. No one had the tools to know or to help enough. Then again, maybe it is not the who or the when, but rather the outcome of me being ale to care for myself without it being a monumental effort....wearing me down. That was a struggle I felt clearly in Junior High. But I think it was always a part of me as best I can remember. I think is was true at the age of 6 when I first went to camp. You can see this in my poem, Victory Buzz, which depicts an event that happened a week before I came home from camp and Rai molested me.
"Forsaking Free" touches on my pursuit of freedom from the indelible impact of my past.
At my best I was "Anchored," and in "Blue-Green Reflection" you can see how I see who am.
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