This ‘letter from Heart’ was written in response to a prompt to write about a part of the body from another writing community.
Warning- it’s long.
From the heart….Kim, why do you hide from me, run from me, avoid me? You give our friend Brain so much of your time and energy. You are always thinking, even now as you write, does this sound go…
This ‘letter from Heart’ was written in response to a prompt to write about a part of the body from another writing community.
Warning- it’s long.
From the heart….Kim, why do you hide from me, run from me, avoid me? You give our friend Brain so much of your time and energy. You are always thinking, even now as you write, does this sound good? Is this true? Is this stupid? This is stupid, you are not a writer. You have nothing to say; you’re just full of other peoples thoughts.
You know a lot in your head but what about me? I have a lot to say to you, a lot for us to process. What do you think will happen if you let me in? If you let the feelings out? If you feel? Why are you afraid of pain? Why don’t you trust me? I won’t hurt you; it might hurt though.
Do you feel me beating faster now as you consider this- holding your breath, tensing your shoulders. Your head aches because I can’t get enough blood up there. Your chest hurts and its hard to take those deep breaths lungs just gave you in your Pre-write meditation. Your response to me, to feelings, to pain is Fight or flight. You have a trauma response, panic, whenever I ask for more of your time, or even some of your time. You flee- get busy, sleep, watch tv, eat candy, bite your nails- anything not to feel.
Let's find out together, with brain, when you first started fleeing and why. What were you afraid of then? What made you feel unsafe. How can I assure you now, that you are safe, that you can let me in. You're not that child anymore feeling insecure about your parents’ drinking, anger, fighting, passing out, driving.
You were on high alert, not knowing what you’d come home to after school, what dad would come home like, what would tip off his anger, when. Whether he’d hurt your mom or brothers. Whether he’d leave.
Your radar was always on, scanning, anticipating, preempting potential conflict by being helpful, being good.
Somehow you managed to avoid being the brunt of that anger, by not adding any fuel and trying to prevent any fuel by taking care of your brothers, keeping them in check, and picking up mom’s drunken slack.
I broke for the hurt you endured and the hurt your mom and brothers endured. The time your dad threatened your mom and dropped a plank on her foot, and the many times he yelled at your brothers. Especially the time he got angry at them at dinner and put their dishes in the back hall and made them eat like dogs. How scary and humiliating for them.
I can sense the guilt you feel for not standing up for them/ to him. Wanting to yell ‘Dad, stop! That’s not fair, leave them alone!’ or ‘take your hands off mom, you’re an asshole!” Or in their monthly fights, over the checkbook/ spending, respond with ‘Dad, why are you so angry? Don’t talk that way to mom!”
I don’t remember details like brain does, but I remember how scared you were when the police came to the house after a dinner party, dad arguing in the street with them, afraid they’d take him to jail. And the night he fell, drunk, in the living room; or all the times he passed out in the arm chair.
Going back to our 2nd home, there was the time he lied to you about smoking- actually, just hid it from you when you came downstairs after bed, and the time he left after a fight with mom.
I even remember your fear in our 1st house, hearing your parents fighting and worrying about their drinking. I vaguely recall overtaxing myself one night when dad had the fight with the backyard neighbor. You were only 3, 4, 5 years old! But I don’t remember you feeling unloved or mistreated, and I remember fun times you had with your dad- airplane rides, reading, board games.
How could you stand up to him, when he was so unpredictable and you’d seen his rage. It makes sense that you would avoid being on the receiving end of that pain. The 2 times you did risk sharing your feelings, fears, hurt, wishes with him, he didn’t accept them. In fact, he rejected them, and thus rejected you. I recall pumping extra courage in both instances: in high school when you all confronted his drinking, and in college when you tried to share your feelings with him about his drinking and the divorce. In the intervention, he physically left. Oh, I remember those tears. How scared you were. How hurt you were. The 2nd time, similar to 1st, he was defensive, ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, but I did my best and I've moved on. You can move on too or not.’
And then there’s your mom’s death…Damn, I’m aching now, and I feel you constricting me- not letting the anger or hurt or sadness leave your chest cavity that houses me. You spend way more energy containing me than it would take to let me release. Kim, I wish you could say ‘I’m sad/ hurt/ scared,’ and let me help you release some of this pressure, just a few tears. Please trust me, we can go at your pace. Whenever you want to stop, slow down, take a break, just tell me. You can set a timer, or time of the week that’s just for you and me. This is a good start, thanks for taking time to listen. That’s all I’m asking for. I don’t want you to suffer, you’re not wrong or failing or unfaithful.
All brain has helped you understand IS true and you have done a lot of work to heal. But maybe now, you can thank him for his protection, and offer him some much needed time off. He’s overworked! Brain and I can tag team. You need us both. You just need more of me. It’s ok to be scared but I will keep you safe and well.
This ‘letter from Heart’ was written in response to a prompt to write about a part of the body from another writing community.
Warning- it’s long.
From the heart….Kim, why do you hide from me, run from me, avoid me? You give our friend Brain so much of your time and energy. You are always thinking, even now as you write, does this sound good? Is this true? Is this stupid? This is stupid, you are not a writer. You have nothing to say; you’re just full of other peoples thoughts.
You know a lot in your head but what about me? I have a lot to say to you, a lot for us to process. What do you think will happen if you let me in? If you let the feelings out? If you feel? Why are you afraid of pain? Why don’t you trust me? I won’t hurt you; it might hurt though.
Do you feel me beating faster now as you consider this- holding your breath, tensing your shoulders. Your head aches because I can’t get enough blood up there. Your chest hurts and its hard to take those deep breaths lungs just gave you in your Pre-write meditation. Your response to me, to feelings, to pain is Fight or flight. You have a trauma response, panic, whenever I ask for more of your time, or even some of your time. You flee- get busy, sleep, watch tv, eat candy, bite your nails- anything not to feel.
Let's find out together, with brain, when you first started fleeing and why. What were you afraid of then? What made you feel unsafe. How can I assure you now, that you are safe, that you can let me in. You're not that child anymore feeling insecure about your parents’ drinking, anger, fighting, passing out, driving.
You were on high alert, not knowing what you’d come home to after school, what dad would come home like, what would tip off his anger, when. Whether he’d hurt your mom or brothers. Whether he’d leave.
Your radar was always on, scanning, anticipating, preempting potential conflict by being helpful, being good.
Somehow you managed to avoid being the brunt of that anger, by not adding any fuel and trying to prevent any fuel by taking care of your brothers, keeping them in check, and picking up mom’s drunken slack.
I broke for the hurt you endured and the hurt your mom and brothers endured. The time your dad threatened your mom and dropped a plank on her foot, and the many times he yelled at your brothers. Especially the time he got angry at them at dinner and put their dishes in the back hall and made them eat like dogs. How scary and humiliating for them.
I can sense the guilt you feel for not standing up for them/ to him. Wanting to yell ‘Dad, stop! That’s not fair, leave them alone!’ or ‘take your hands off mom, you’re an asshole!” Or in their monthly fights, over the checkbook/ spending, respond with ‘Dad, why are you so angry? Don’t talk that way to mom!”
I don’t remember details like brain does, but I remember how scared you were when the police came to the house after a dinner party, dad arguing in the street with them, afraid they’d take him to jail. And the night he fell, drunk, in the living room; or all the times he passed out in the arm chair.
Going back to our 2nd home, there was the time he lied to you about smoking- actually, just hid it from you when you came downstairs after bed, and the time he left after a fight with mom.
I even remember your fear in our 1st house, hearing your parents fighting and worrying about their drinking. I vaguely recall overtaxing myself one night when dad had the fight with the backyard neighbor. You were only 3, 4, 5 years old! But I don’t remember you feeling unloved or mistreated, and I remember fun times you had with your dad- airplane rides, reading, board games.
How could you stand up to him, when he was so unpredictable and you’d seen his rage. It makes sense that you would avoid being on the receiving end of that pain. The 2 times you did risk sharing your feelings, fears, hurt, wishes with him, he didn’t accept them. In fact, he rejected them, and thus rejected you. I recall pumping extra courage in both instances: in high school when you all confronted his drinking, and in college when you tried to share your feelings with him about his drinking and the divorce. In the intervention, he physically left. Oh, I remember those tears. How scared you were. How hurt you were. The 2nd time, similar to 1st, he was defensive, ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, but I did my best and I've moved on. You can move on too or not.’
And then there’s your mom’s death…Damn, I’m aching now, and I feel you constricting me- not letting the anger or hurt or sadness leave your chest cavity that houses me. You spend way more energy containing me than it would take to let me release. Kim, I wish you could say ‘I’m sad/ hurt/ scared,’ and let me help you release some of this pressure, just a few tears. Please trust me, we can go at your pace. Whenever you want to stop, slow down, take a break, just tell me. You can set a timer, or time of the week that’s just for you and me. This is a good start, thanks for taking time to listen. That’s all I’m asking for. I don’t want you to suffer, you’re not wrong or failing or unfaithful.
All brain has helped you understand IS true and you have done a lot of work to heal. But maybe now, you can thank him for his protection, and offer him some much needed time off. He’s overworked! Brain and I can tag team. You need us both. You just need more of me. It’s ok to be scared but I will keep you safe and well.
Love, Heart