jimwarren13

I Go Into My Cave

Life seems to bring varied degrees of drama into our lives, that sometimes I find I have to pull away from it all and go into my emotional cave where I can feel safe and

jimwarren13

Life seems to bring varied degrees of drama into our lives, that sometimes I find I have to pull away from it all and go into my emotional cave where I can feel safe and secure.

Some of life’s drama can be so overwhelming, that it sometimes feels as though I can’t take anymore. Sometimes I feel like running away from it all, and living the life of a hermit. Memories of the past creep upon me and take me to a place where I didn’t feel safe and secure. Home isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

Beneath the masked smile I often present to the world, is a woman evolved through physical and emotional trauma and pain. Who I am today is a combination of the good, bad and the ugly that life throws at us. The cards we are dealt in life are often not of our own making, yet we must go on with life and make whatever sense of it as possible. Doing what we can to sift through the rubble and find the good, and build our lives and memories based more on the good times than the bad. That is not an easy task.

It is common to hold onto memories of the bad times, much more so than the good times. I’m not sure why that is, I only know it is true of me. I struggle to recall the times in my childhood when I felt truly happy, safe and secure. The memories of the fear, trauma and emotional devastation overtake me and pushes out the brief flash of memory of roller skating, swimming, childhood friends, etc.

A lone girl, amidst a family of five brothers, I felt alone much of the time. Alone in my room with my dolls, pretending they were my friends, or my sister, or my daughter. Occasionally my younger brother would come and play “house” with me, or “tea party”, but more often than not it was me being tomboyish and playing cars in the dirt piles in the yard. Growing up with all brothers and no sisters, I evolved into a tough, tomboyish girl rather than one more feminine. I couldn’t be a girly-girl and survive the rough-housing antics of older brothers and the subsequent bruises I received. I had to be tough, and tough is what I became.

Popularity: 2% [?]