Peanut Butter and Jelly

All she wants to eat is peanut butter.

I’m trying to figure out breakfast on my ten minutes off the line of a busy french bakery. Peanut butter.

I’m trying to participate in an adult discussion about pizza toppings. Peanut butter.

I’m crying alone in my bed at night, feeling like everything is caving in and I am never going to be any use to myself or anyone else…

Peanut butter.

How do I instigate a conversation with a neglected child who is posted up in my own torso throwing bombs out of my mouth whenever I open it? Peanut butter.

Everyone eats, everyone comes out eventually. Everyone needs love that is deep and wild and forgiving and trusting and vulnerable and when people fall short of that need….peanut butter…or whatever food it is. Whatever is the thing that the weariest part of me will take as a sign that it can start to soften to the world again.

Sometimes she wasn’t fed because people forgot she was there, sometimes she wasn’t fed because she was scared she would be hurt if she went into the house, sometimes she was fed but the distance seemed to swallow what was in her mouth and she still felt hungry.

Sometimes she had to solve problems that were too big for her, sometimes she spent days and years on those problems. They always grew relative to her…no matter how big she got they were still too big for her to solve. A girl works up quite an appetite that way.

I hated her as much as she hated herself. I forgot her, I used her, I sold her, I locked her up, I grew up and treated her like all the other grown ups she had ever met….Its a wonder she ever stops crying.

Trying to bring her out, trying to raise her up….for simple reasons like being able to trust dirt again to more complicated ones like not having to hurt children because I am still a hurt child….

I knew she was there. I knew because every time I saw disappointment I felt like it would kill me and every time I heard my mothers voice in my head I believed it and every time someone loved me I knew it was a trick and every time I was sick i knew I was on my own forever…but I had never spoken with her directly. I had never seen her and not felt disgusted until she disappeared again.

How did we finally start getting to know one another?

It wasn’t through cd’s of guided meditations, it wasn’t through coaxing on longs walks, it wasn’t through yelling, coercing, abusing or insisting. It certainly wasn’t therapists or well meaning girlfriends….

It was Peanut butter.

About iknowyouknowmyheart

Ever Tried. Ever Failed. No Matter. Try Again, Fail Again, Fail Better -Beckett Here I am right over there, running into opportunities to stop running and hoping they keep my scent until my prayers are answered and I am brave enough to slow down.

Posted on February 15, 2015, in blessings, divine intervention, evidence, family, literary, luck and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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