Fractured Childhood

I've been thinking a lot about a conversation I had recently with another survivor. We don't know each other well, and don't know each other's story, but we know we are both survivors. I mentioned that those of us with fractured childhoods need to find ways to reclaim that time in the present. I've done it through collecting stuffed animals and dolls. I color. My husband bought me a silk and flannel fairy blanket that I slept with for years. And of course there is Yolie. 

The greatest gift toward reclaiming my childhood has been my husband. From the very beginning he embraced the idea of creating new memories. Part of my attraction to him all those years ago was his ability to have fun and be silly without worrying about perceptions. I have learned much from him. He is constantly making suggestions and reminding me to do something nice for my inner child. 

She is Lucy. Years ago I named her to avoid confusion when discussing things with my therapist -- not another personality, but a way of recognizing the little girl who was so damaged in those years. I still have difficulty talking about the abuse in the first person, so Lucy carries a lot of the weight for me. I owe her a great deal. 

She is named for my great-grandmother who cared for me while both of my parents worked, before I was old enough to go to school. "Nur" (pronounced nuh) loved me unconditionally. She taught me to make biscuits and how to braid hair. She sang hymns while she pegged the laundry to the line. Her sister was my dearest Auntie whose home was a refuge. 

I read the verses in scripture about children. About how Jesus honored and sat with children, and I am reminded that He still loves me like a child. And if He does, then I will too.

linking up with imperfect prose