Undone

I knew even as a teenager in an abusive relationship that something in me was…off. I didn't have words for trauma or attachment or conditioning. I just believed I was somehow the problem.

Turns out, I was bringing something to the table:

• old wounds

• old vows

• old patterns

• old survival strategies

Not my fault. But still mine to name.

When I finally began tracing those old wounds back, I realized they didn't start in adolescence. They didn't even start in the relationships that broke me.

The roots were already woven into me long before I had language for any of it.

One of the first moments, I can remember feeling that deep wordless ache was the day my dad moved away.

I remember it vividly. I was around seven years old and he pulled up unexpectedly, I was thrilled. We normally only got to see our dad every other weekend and so an extra visit was a treasure. I ran to him with that full body joy kids don't even know how to hide.

I don't really remember the words I just remember the look on his face, he was so excited. He was there with his girlfriend Kat and she looked very happy too. Then he announced that he was moving. Right then. To another state. The world shifted under my feet.

I remember my body going numb. Total panic. The kind that makes you feel like you'll do anything, absolutely anything, to stop this moment from happening. I cried, I begged, I pleaded. But they were moving and nothing I could do would stop it.

I stood outside watching them drive away. My mom and brother went back inside. I stayed.

I stayed because I couldn't move. I stayed because it felt like someone had died. I truly felt like I would never see him again.

I can still feel that moment in my body. The feeling of shock that he could drive away when I desperately needed him to stay. I wished he would turn around and come back. Or that someone would pick me up and hold me long enough for my body to understand that I wasn't alone.

I don't remember what happened next.

Only the ache.

Only the silence.

Only the feeling that something had shifted in me in a way that I would not understand for decades.

But the one thing that I did understand that day is that love can disappear without warning. That being left is normal. I spent so much of my life doing everything in my power to avoid having that experience again.

Newsflash: none of it worked.

At seven, I didn't have language to describe the feeling of abandonment. I only had the experience of it.

This is one of the places where my story starts.

I will tell more as I'm able.

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