For six years I have been saying that I have no memory, and I have lied. I have no mind memory, but my body has always had its memory.
I don’t have actual vivid stories to recount, but I do have the physical reaction within my body’s mass, its nerves and muscles…it knows what I forgot to remember.
For years I wasn’t pleased with my ‘cold’ body, how it chose not to get close to my parents, how it literally would feel unease in their presence, never the desire to snuggle close or lean in and get into their aurora.
It was like I wasn’t driving this body, that this body had a life of its own…it craved things and repelled things on its own volition.
Now with hidden truths and untold stories known, I now am supportive of this living organism that has a beautiful memory, a trusting articulate knowing and isn’t fooled by flimsy masks.
It never pretended to pretend it always reacted accurately aligning itself to the experiences of its past.
Me inside was always disappointed in its lack of warmth for my parents, its lack of trust and faith and its inability to recognize and feel their love.
My body stood strong and resilient to all my longings and childish wishes…it would not give up what it knew.
It knew my father’s imprint, my mother’s indifference…it never once changed its way, lost its courage or grace.
It just was…
An abused body and it knew its source.
Its memory carried me when I was to blind to see, to wounded to know, It always has protected me…
I M Perfect lady 