{this moment}

A single photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Again

(warning: adult content and triggers)

She had a box. It was her treasure box she said. She pulled it out to show me. And when she opened it up everything went crossways.

Yesterday my dog brought in a dead baby bunny. I made her take it outside and leave it. Dogs do these things. It made me sad, and let's face it, it was gross. I cleaned up the droplets of blood in the house. I told myself it was okay. People have to deal with these things all the time. I called my husband and he said he was sorry he hadn't been here to take care of it.

But I couldn't let go of the incident. I felt the panic rising in my chest. I had flashes of pictures in my head that I tried desperately to shake away. 

The box is divided into little squares. In each square is a skull of a small animal. She begins to tell me what each one is, and how she killed it. She looks at me and tells me she will do the same things to me. Just like the kitten. The kitten that she strangled with the chain on the swing while I watched, after she took him from me. The kitten that she skinned the whole time telling me that's what she'd do to me it I told anyone.

I can't get the image of Lucy/me as that dead bunny out of my head. That baby bunny who didn't do anything wrong, but had its life cut short. And I know animals aren't people, but when the comparison is made when you are 5 years old, and in such a visceral way, it's hard to let it go.

These are not memories or pictures I want in my head. I don't want to remember how Lucy felt in that moment, and I don't want to feel guilty for still struggling with it now. But I do. Lucy and I could have been that bunny. A life cut short for no good reason.

So I cry and I hurt. I breathe deeply. I color a picture. I watch too much TV. But somewhere in it all, I remind myself that it is in the past. I survived it then, and I'm still surviving the memories.

There are no pithy wrap-ups. There is just another memory to be dealt with -- again.

Moira and Her Magic Bunnies

Once there was a girl named Moira. She loved bunnies more than anything else in the world. 

One day she happened upon a magic shop. The man in the shop told her if she bought a magic hat, she could have all the bunnies she'd ever want.

Moira took out her change purse and carefully counted out the coins to pay for the hat. Then she skipped home, and into the back garden of her house. 

She held the hat up and summoned the bunnies. Out popped a bunny head, followed by a bunny body and a bunny tail. 

Moira was so excited that she kept summoning bunnies all afternoon. Soon she was surrounded by sweet, white, fluffy ears and tails.

Moira decided she would share her bunnies with all of her friends.

--by Lucy

read more stories about Moira and her bunnies here

Paths

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I have been in a dark place of late.
I have been down a path I knew I was going to have to travel, but I kept putting it off. Pushing it aside and choosing to walk different, less difficult paths. Not that the other paths were easy, just not hard in the same way as this one.
I was right, this last path was hard, but part of the difficulty was my own unwillingness or, perhaps, inability to face some hard truths.
There is a saying I love -- The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off!
Crass perhaps, but I have found it to be oh, so true.
I've learned a lot through this process -- about me, about my husband, my friends, and my family. Not all of it has been good, but not all has been bad either.
I have been reminded that people will fail you. But people will surprise you as well.
Relationships change -- constantly. People grow, or don't, but choices must be made and re-evaluated sometimes. 
I don't know the end version of anything. I'm letting go of absolutes, but I'm also letting go of lots of expectations. I think that means I'm growing. Moving out of that stuck place I got to when the abuse started.
That little girl (I call her Lucy) needed comfort and security back then, and I've had to retroactively share it with her as I've learned. That won't change. She's always going to need me, and I'm always going to love her.
Not absolutes. Just possibilities.

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