When I was pondering what to title the subtitle to this journal entry, article, blog post-whatever you want to call this piece, I originally labelled this “The trauma of abandonment” but then I realized why is everything the ‘trauma of’ because yes, even though the result to things is traumatic, what happens to us is still the reality of it. Reality is what causes the trauma, so I changed the subtitle to “The reality of abandonment” which indeed is traumatic. For example, the similarities to being in a horrific car accident, you can’t control that it happened to you, it’s not your fault that the cars collided in inspectable timing, but it’s the aftermath that you have to live with. The sad result and reality of what happened.
The Trauma
I keep having these dreams of abandonment. The ultimate fear. The trauma that holds me back from trusting any living soul. Not because they want to abandon me, it’s because they don’t know it yet, but they will. I don’t even blame them and I definitely don’t blame myself. It feels more like a curse if anything, which it is. The curse of humanity. But in the dream, after being told by the person who broke me not once, but twice, that he would return again, and stated those empty words, “Let’s try again” and that he still loved me. I carelessly grabbed his face, and kissed him with passion, because it was nice to hear. That promise, the antidote and solution to all my fears but as I allowed myself to play make-believe when we kissed, I knew it was a goodbye kiss, so I kissed him with tongue and fire. And within that sweet hour, of touching hands and intertwining our fingers between each others, he left and said he’d be back, but when he never returned, somehow, it still held the same power to bring me to my knees, and the little girl inside of me cried out for my mother, who too, was nowhere to be found. I don’t even know why I had.
The Reality
I wish I could say that I woke up and did a few stretches, then sipped on my homemade latte by the garden beds, while finishing the novel for Vocals book club.
But, that’s not reality. I went into the kitchen and turned on the faucet to no running water. That’s reality. I don’t pay the water bill, so that then led to a lengthy phone call with my landlord.
After playing with a few pipes, the water was up and running. I then boiled some water, and finally made that homemade latte with creamy steamed foam on top. As for my plans to finish reading ‘Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow’ in my garden for Vocals discussion on Friday, I was still compelled by the residual trigger symptoms of the dream. I had to do something about this before withholding whatever greatness the day held before me.
I picked up a pen and my black leather journal that gives off the aesthetic of “You’re a writer,” and began to create this journal entry. And it felt…. Good.
Even though reality is uncontrollable, and the result of it exposes your absolute vulnerability, you can still take action to putting the trauma back in its place, so I created “Goodbye Kiss.” Just create.
Whether it’s a painting, a poem, a motivational article, as long as it’s being released.
I didn’t plan to write a Vocal piece today, but after journaling, I was inspired by taking this negative aspect of life and sharing it so that maybe someone, anyone could relate. Because trust me, I could have very well laid in bed, put the covers over my head, and curse everyone in my life that’s abandoned me. I could say “ I hate all men” and both of my non-existent parents. But what if I chose to do the opposite, chose to release it because let’s face it, we still have to live with either outcome and I’ve done both.
So if today I chose to blog it, or whatever, this awful dream, maybe someone doing the exact alternative listed above, reading this, is getting them out of bed today, then consider it a win, for the both of us.
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