My hand is outstretched, force-ably. I am being lifted by the wrist from the bathtub. Moments earlier the bathtub was a swimming pool for me and my barbies on a hot summer day. I am under the age of 10, 8 maybe? Playing in the bathtub in my bathing suit. I live on Orange Road. It’s easy to remember because we live in Florida and oranges are on every license plate. My barbie drops back into the water and as her hair forms a halo of gold around her head, I know I am in trouble…though I do not know why. Then the blow lands…dead center in my stomach and I heave and struggle to breathe. I don’t recall the pain only the suffocation, the feeling of my lungs collapsing from the blow and the desperate biological need for air. It’s so fast. It happens so fast. I am being yelled at but my ears are ringing and I see the movement of his mouth but hear no words. I can’t even cry, though there are tears in my eyes and he drops me on the tile in a heap and he is gone. I crawl into my bedroom which is right off the bathroom and I gasp and cry. I push my face into the mattress of my bed because I am afraid the noise I am making will cause more blows to come. I shove the blankets into my mouth to stifle the noise that is escaping me. I distinctly remember being ANGRY at MYSELF for the noises that were involuntarily leaving my beaten, broken frame. I was angry that I could not control them and that it might cause me more harm. I think this is the first memory that I have where I felt anger towards myself at something that was so obviously (although not then) out of my control. I think this is why I stop myself from crying even now. I feel anger towards myself when I allow a vulnerable human emotion to take over. I despise crying. I have always viewed crying as a sign of weakness and just now…I realize why. You really don’t know just how much your past infects your everyday life…..
Published by christiepage "pando pandemonium"
Confessions of a mad mind~ Author of A Practical Guide to Forgiveness from an Impractical Survivor, Oh Go Fix Yourself and She was the Stuff of Stars, Christie Page was born in Falmouth, Massachusetts. She lived in the Nobska Point Lighthouse with her mother and father who were stationed there as a result of his service in the Coast Guard. Shortly after the family made their way to West Palm Beach, Florida where she grew up continuing her love affair with the ocean. She has two children Joshua 26 and Laura 24 and currently resides in South Florida. In 2015 Christie left her twenty year medical career to pursue her passion for writing full time and has been featured in the world’s largest mindful living publications including Chicken Soup for the Soul, elephant journal, Sivana East, Thirty on Tap and The Urban Howl. She was also a feature columnist for Controlled Chaos magazine. An active yogi, hoop dancing enthusiast and self-proclaimed whiskey chick, she is a third generation breast cancer survivor, recovering anorexic/bulimic and is on life six or seven of her nine lives. She has been homeless and sheltered, rich and poor, loved and hated and believes her experiences have lead her down a path of spiritual exploration and awakenings. Christie wishes to share her journey with others in an attempt to come to peace. She writes to clear space from the rolodex that is her muddled mind. Christie View all posts by christiepage "pando pandemonium"