Meandering Streams by Susan L.

It fascinates me how time and memory have the ability to compress. When a recollection comes to the forefront of our thoughts, the days, weeks or even years vanish in an instant. Four Christmases ago I was in the assessment ward of a psychiatric hospital. It sometimes feels like yesterday. I have no idea where the years have gone... That's not a hundred percent true. The days since were spent putting one foot in front of the other without hope but with purpose. That purpose was sheer survival and all about finding an identity that lay shattered and broken in all the garbage. I am probably repeating myself here but I believe that trauma causes us to encapsulate pieces of our identity. This is a form of protection from the pain of these events. I want to be clear, trauma is very subjective. There is no sliding scale, or rating or comparison. What affects one may have no impact on someone else. It doesn't matter. If it causes pain, it is important and I know Someone wants to hear about it. It is surprising how much is contained in what seems a silly little event according to worldly standards. Not the flashback consuming events but in simply remembering. As a little girl, I would sing myself to sleep.'Silent Night' a year long favorite. Even then I was seeking something outside of myself: knowing I belonged. "For You have delivered my soul from death, My eyes from tears,and my feet from falling. I will walk with the Lord in the land of the living." Ps 116:8