That Same Hurt Little Kid
I always wanted to ask her why she left.
I mean. I always knew why she left. I lived through it. But we never talked about it. Addressed it in any way at all. It has just always been this black hole. And she’s gone. I will never get those pieces I have sought after with so much fervour.
I have died a dozen deaths trying to find the answers. Answers that only she can provide. I am going to have to teach myself a way of finding closure with this. I can’t wait around for it to just happen. I have come too far and have done too much to just let it lie as it is.
I need this and I want this. I need the hole that she left in me when she left to finally close. I need to wound to stop bleeding. I need to admit that I have always known what this hole that I carry is and that I knowingly let it fester and grow inside of me all these years. Because in more ways that I am comfortable admitting, I am still that little kid that loves his mother. That was destroyed and forever changed when my only ally in the world left me with Him. And finally. That I robbed myself of any chance of having a real and meaningful relationship with my mother because I never got over my petty grudge against her.
Because I thought it was a competition. That I had to prove that I didn’t need them or anyone. When the truth was that she was all that I needed for a long time.
I know that. I understand it. I will consciously choose to carry it with me. And I will destroy myself if need be, but I will make sure I never infect a single other person with this. Because that’s how it goes. Isn’t it? We tend to infect the ones with love with the worst parts of ourselves because we think we are irreconcilably broken. Every single version of me. Including this one.
As I strip away more layers of the pompous, posturing arse that I am I find I am not surprised with what I find. As if I had willed myself to forget, but have always known all along, but also somehow walled off access to the knowledge of until I decided I wanted it again.
Recent events have forced me into deep introspection that has shown me a lot of things. Some things I think I haven’t remembered since the massive head injury that almost killed me in 06. Throughout the dozen and a half head injuries since, nothing has really shaken loose. Not that that has any bearing on reality, that’s just a Hollywood thing.
What I know is that I always have an exit strategy not because of my time in the military, but because I never want to be abandoned again. I never want to feel helpless like that again. It took a long time. And it cost me everything. Fucking everything. But I did it. I made myself untouchable. Or I thought I did.
I think. No, actually, I know that all I did was just learn to hide the hurt better and under more and more layers of posturing and pretence. I did that for so long that in the end I believed it. And now I can’t unbelieve it.