I just pushed send and sat there for a minute.

The tears began to roll down my cheeks and somehow, I got it.

I got it…

She told me I dreamt it. The things she couldn’t bare to know, I must have dreamt it.  Till one day in my mid twenties, someone told a story that validated my story and in that moment,  I didn’t just dream it and a few years later, I got that many of those “dreams” were actually real and she just didn’t know, she just didn’t want to know. and still, there was something I didn’t get just yet.

He told me I was crazy, that I would be the one they’d lock away, no one would believe me. I protected him and I made myself wrong for all of it, I was crazy and the day that I chose to speak, well, no one believed me.  Bruises from head to toe, two black eyes and no one believed me and most everyone chose him.  I didn’t let that stop me, I was changing that pattern for myself and my children and still there was something I didn’t get just yet.

I told them I was crazy, that my story was the worst and they believed me.  They called me out, shut me out and brought me out of a box I lived in for far too long.  While most of them didn’t like me,  I got that crazy was a gift and still there was something I didn’t get just yet.

He called me crazy, his term of endearment, and each time I confronted him,  I was crazy.  Then he told me the truth, shared his lies and deepest secrets with me and in my silence, most everyone chose him.  He validated my crazy as a gift and still there was something I didn’t get just yet.

Somebody asked me a question about protecting perpetrators and I got,  on some levels I was still doing it. On some levels there was still something in it for me.  Then she asked another question. How many times have I been the perpetrator and others kept secrets for me. That blew me wide open.  She went further to explain, when we protect a perpetrator it’s because in some lifetime we were a perpetrator and others kept secrets for us.

What???

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I’ve been experiencing one thing after another with this dynamic and still there was something I didn’t get just yet.

Then it happened, someone presented like a perpetrator and I kept looking at it as if it were me, as if I was the wrongness. That took me back and back and back and back to all the times when no one believed me, when I was crazy, when I WAS WRONG.

So I asked her again, that woman with the brilliant questions, and she giggled while saying, “that’s the humanoid thing” we always go to the wrongness of us.”

I have heard that a million times and still there was something I didn’t get just yet.

I sat with many conversations replaying in my head.

Then someone reached out, someone else who’s having an experience with a person presenting as a perpetrator, the same person and I had a different response.

As I was typing the email, I actually wrote the words, I wasn’t going to say anything when it was just about me, then it happened to someone else.

I am in a year of including me so what is that?

Then I went further to describe what I was actually seeing….

“it’s like rescuing an abused dog and just when he starts to trust you, you take a swing at him”

That’s not me, that isn’t how I operate

 

I pushed send and I sat there for a minute, tears streaming down my cheeks and…

I got it…

The old tapes played, the curiosity chimed in and I got it.

The secret that they are keeping, the secret that I protect them from disclosing, it isn’t my wrongness at all.

It’s my potency.

 

One thought on “It’s Not My Wrongness?

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