No one and nothing will ever be able to replace or fill in these 15 years of what felt like a life compacted with such thick energy of mental fogginess, loss, fear and emptiness. No one not even me will ever be able to explain why babies innocently born in a place were they learn to see themselves as being robbed and deprived of a safe, healthy, gentle, kind, generous, nurturing, loving, childhood. Why did my whole childhood feel like I was an orphan, often cold and isolated, sick and left to die in a jail I called my home with ill predators I called my parents and members of my society. When I was pregnant with my second child I finally find the courage to ask my mother why she had not been able to protect me from her and my dad’s illness. Full of guilt and shame she whispered timidly the words “it wasn’t that bad” those words seemed to have locked me back in that jail for an other 15 years. These words full of denial, hiding a fear of taking full responsibility and forgiveness for oneself, also showed me that continuing any form of relationship with her and my dad, where I was at in my life at that point, would have meant  that I was also now contributing and playing a part in feeding that illness and will continue on to feed my 4 month old unborn baby with that illness.

A debt? and I am not sure who has to repay me.

My parents? No….that s for sure, not them…. I finally anderstood that fact in my 30s, when I cremated then buried the lies I told myself about how ok and healthy these ppl were, until then, telling myself otherwise, brought a suffocating sense of shame that I also learned to liberate myself from. Once I released the sweet image I made of them as well as some lingering still, expectations of being saved by them or being told that I am ok and lovable. Once I finally anderstood that these ppl I first had in my life, these so called loving parents, safe adults, actually pictures mental health illnesses now seen all around even as authority figures like police officers nurses teachers and so on. Once I woke up to the fact that my parents were the definition and the result of how this world is becoming insane and destructive. How they are mentally disabling each other and themselves as they dived deeper into this seemingly endless maze of adored suffering  and painful hell of denial.  They finally and definitely don’t owe me a thing and don’t,  please, feel that you ever have to pay me back…. If only they could give to themselves what they were not able to give me that s the best pay back I could ever wish for.  All I can say is no hard feelings, love yourself, let’s move on and farewell.

God? Do You have to repay me for this cold frustrating gap I feel in my bones and in my heart?  The God I know doesn’t have to repay me for getting lost and forgetting who I am. In fact I felt His loving arms around me the day my dad  had left me on the floor bleeding with a whole in my leg after he ragefully bashed a metal bar on my body. In pain, all alone, terrified at the early age of 3 I had already experienced one of the worst nightmare a kid can experience as well as one of the best experience of God an adult search for all his life. That day and few other days like this one, I tasted death, I felt death drying  my tears on my face and my hands and the blood on my body, immobilized by fear I was frozen in both sense of the term.

I also felt an unknown and also familiar warm sense of hope as I was looking at the rays of sunlight  piercing through the darkness of my life and the blinds that covered my bedroom windows. That warm unknown yet familiar feeling spoke to me reassured me and told me that I wasn’t all alone left to die cold and dry. Even though the pain of that wound toke my breath away and made me pass out when I woke I felt restored I remember thinking that I had died and come back to life in the same position and place however I reborn and nothing would be the same again.

My kid? My partners? My success? My job? My friends? Money? Planet earth?

Life? I spent most of  my adult life pushing away the harsh reality of this world and everyone in it, just so I could fantasize on finding this warm, safe and loving home and ppl I longed and cried for as a child. A genuine healthy adult who could embraces me in a pair of warm loving arms and tell me that from now on, I am safe, I am loved and that for the rest of my life I will be well taken care of and I have nothing to ever be afraid of…..

My relationships? These feelings of loss and emptiness I tried covering and patching up with relationships never went away in fact they grew stronger and grotesquer. Of course I would only be attracted to men who were broken and who used unhealthy ways to deal with their broken hearts, just like the first man who held me in his arms. Wait a minute did my dad actually hold me?

I had the same sad expectations from these broken men that I had from my dad. I was let down the same miserable way by not being seein heard and cared for with gentleness and safety. Fantasizing and thinking that these men would have to take care of  this neglected and unloved child that became a part of me. Craving for them to heal the pain and suffering that  the “me” entered in our relationship. Deluding myself in thinking  that while I would take care of these men’s broken heart as well as their burden, and control their addictions,  and let them trap me into thinking that their mental illness was mine, I willingly gave these men I convinced myself I loved and loved me, the “me” I did not want to deal with. It took me years of going through painful feelings of  disconnectedness and abandonment and thinking that the only escape from “me” I was running away from, was death achieved by killing myself. It took me years of agony to finally realize that these men were not my problem as they were absolutely incapable of fulfilling my childhood fantasy, incapable of looking at the “me” I myself abandoned. Then my craving for a child became the answer to my unfulfilled expectations by my parents then the world then men.

A child? It toke the death of my first baby boy at birth, then going home painfully empty without him in my arms, to anderstand that their is no end to pain and suffering in this world. That emptiness I felt all my life, that sense of being broken and lost became absolutely nothing. The minute I was brutally thrown into a place where I had to compared my past before losing the baby, with the pain I was feeling every seconds after his passing as I was reviewing the lifeless in the pure innocent little boy becoming cold by the second. The thought of who is protecting my son now. The thought of never being able to hold him again had erased all my previous suffering and numed me from the pain I saw the world wcarrying. It toke me 9 month after my daughter was born to realize that a baby’s innocence and it’s  constant need for safety is a heavy reminder of what is missing in me. I went on to a spiritual search and when this search told that the love I am seeking for so desperately is a fantasy and what I am really looking for is not outside myself but everywhere even in the harsh reality of this world,