Wednesday, August 22, 2012

A beautiful rock.



What that rock could heartbreakingly whisper.


Last week I was talking to the local Principal of the nearby primary school that I went to. Yes...., that one. We sometimes hold play-group there. It's been ...um.. well..... hard. I have known this lady for a long time, she's lovely. She arrived here in this town a while after all the unspeakable.....shit that happened. I was in my early teens by then.

So her babies, got to grow in a school that was......safe.

The school has changed so much in the past year. No back stump anymore, it just magically disappeared one day. A whole new school has been built. The old portables gone, new playground too. And so the lay of the earth and it's gradient has changed. Moulded and transitioned into something new. I hope you are reading this my dear friends. It's all gone.

So many memories.

But there's a rock down there by the bracken. Just by the fence-line. A beautiful grey lichen covered rock. I still see us..... all playing.....happily. And then in a twist of unbidden memory..... I see... the horrendous things down there.

How do you wipe those things from the curves of your delicate, sensitive brain? I don't know. How do you cleanse something never resolved in your childhood? So then it gets left to manifest into adulthood, pushed far down to your subconscious. And then, when you are a grown woman it all comes back, and you really have known it all along. And your beautiful friend is no longer able to face..... life. And it is because of it all. Everything comes back with a clarity. The threats, the fear.

Her tears... always her tears, after being returned.... 

I am never going to detail or reveal the horrid things that occurred, ever. They will make you sick to your core. Make you, want to vomit the putrid, perverted and sadistic images from your mind. I heard so much, saw a little, escaped a lot. My friend confirmed it all. And she will never reveal the who. 

But I know anyway.

This lady and I were discussing all the new changes taking place at the school, about how wonderful this all is. She's very attentive this Lady. Looks you square in the eye, not easily distracted. And then..... you feel it in your flailing little girl heart that you are going to say.... something. Things that I should not. Why would I bring that up. Oh jesus christ... why? And you are murmuring to the vulnerable part of your brain to stay quiet. Shhhh.....be quiet. You survived for so long. Locking those deep things up, in the hard part of your little growing heart.

Why couldn't you protect her. She.... was the experiment...why could I not say anything? Fuck it... why. Tears for us all are falling out of my nearly 40 year old eyes. My heart is sick .

I will never forgive myself.

I look at the lovely lady and she stays quiet and is looking at me. She sees my angst. It's reflected. Stop talking Rebekah, you are babbling..... but If I don't say anything, it will be like I am that child again. And... I am not a confused scared child anymore. I need to stand up, feel safe. Speak up.


Anyway.... I blurted it out, and then instantly tried to take back my words, make it not so bad.

But it was bad.

I am sorry my friend.

I want to throw my self down by that rock and shout and scream at the world. To sob, wail, cry and weep till it all just stops..... Why did you not protect us. Protect her...

Then....... I want to lay myself gently down by that rock and heal myself and my friends. Soak in the earth... to repair and restore our wounded little souls.


I need to stand my ground. To expose it all...... so then we will be heard.







* I decided if  I could not post this, in my words, in my way, then my writing and my blog was not worth the energy of my artistic outlet. But I know this is right. For me. I would never hurt anyone, although in my revealing things it may make other people sad or upset. I would hope it could challenge people to look at things in a different way. Find compassion through expression of thought with words. A sense of release on the past. I don't ever want to vilify one person. But I want awareness and acknowledgment and change.

I have had a long conversation with my beautiful friend. She has healed far beyond me. Some other conversations are just beginning with other friends. Maybe one day we will all just sit down by that rock, and find strength with each other.

The Lady was horrified, as one would expect.



8 comments:

  1. I don't see any comments here and I'm imagining you fretting about your decision to post this piece after all. So here's me!

    I've already emailed you but I just want you to know that I've read this post a few times and I'm so glad you wrote it and shared it. Each time I read it that first lines hits me . . . as do the others that come after it.

    I reread my email to you as I wondered what I should write here.

    So I shall say it again. I think this is beautifully and sensitively written piece about something almost unspeakably sad/dark/unjust/criminal/deplorable/I don't know what.

    Unspeakable except that you find words for it - ways in, so that others can understand that there's more to life that the bubbles they float around in, that our actions affect others, and that these awful things that happen in the nicest of communities have ongoing, profound, awful ramifications.

    That's the power of words, isn't it? The power to expose, the power to open our eyes, the power to heal. I think that's the beauty of what and how you write, Rex. You really tap into that without heaping it onto people.

    It's true that since I read this, it has been echoing in my head and I've been googling to gain a better understanding. It's not going away anytime soon, is it? But I wish you peace with these painful, difficult memories.

    You don't have to deal with any of this alone.

    Much love to you, and to our amazing, beautiful,adored friend, if she's reading this. xx

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  2. I love your first paragraph. Wayne had a giggle at it too. You are so sweet.

    I was almost going to e-mail you and ask if I could add your response to the post, and here it is... perfect. You define what I try to do. And I have no idea how I do it, because I have no method- other than to just start writing. Thats when things.... start to unfurl. The thoughts I put here are the clear ones though.

    Thank-you so much Jen, it is nice to be reassured. I imagine its not an easy piece to respond to, I guess.

    I think she is reading. I hope she feels our love.

    xxoo

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  3. I too will respond. I think I said everything I needed to say but I wanted to say thank you. That's all. Much love to our incredible friend, and to you Rex. Like Jen said, let's not do it alone. xxx

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    1. Thanks Leah, I agree I can't do this alone.We can't do this alone. I am trying to walk carefully, but its tricky. xxoo

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  4. Oh my goodness, Rex. OH MY GOODNESS. When I first read your Sorry post I could barely make sense of the gravity of it. I'm not sure why. But I read it back again now and think: FAR OUT.

    And then this post... this post is beautiful healing steps. So sensitively and powerfully expressed. I hope there is healing for you and your friend as time goes on. Shame on the adults that let this childhood happen for you. We have such a responsibility as adults for our children, don't we? Please don't hold on to the burden of what you didn't do - because you were young too, you didn't have the strength or wisdom that you do now. I forgive myself all the time for things done and said as a child. Your loving heart and sensitivity is amazing. Much love to you and your friend. xx

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    1. Deb, thats a lovely thing to say, " I forgive myself all the time for things done and said as a child." Thankyou for that. AND thankyou for all the recent kind beautiful comments I found around my blog... You are so lovely. x

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  5. This sounds like it's truly horrendous. Are you going to seek justice or has the perpetrator/s been punished? Maybe it's time.

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    1. Yes Lydia, truly horrendous. The justice part has been taken care of. We are looking at healing ourselves now. A journey of awareness. The perpetrators are a product of there own traumatic lives. Thankyou x

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