Our minds are unaccountably stupid sometimes. They don’t get things right in front of them. They cannot grasp abstractions sometimes. They need a sensory experience in order to really “know” the abstraction. Even if they do know it.

The parts have been telling me something for a while. Not just one of them, but several. It seems to be scattered throughout the system. Maybe it I all of them who need it, but at the very least, it seems to be important.

They need to know, to really know, that Natashka is safe. Her pain was my pain.

I had to hurt her. I had to watch others hurt her. I had to wonder what was happening to her when I wasn’t there to see it.

The trauma isn’t just about the danger I was in all the time, but the danger she was in. It’s about the absolute powerlessness of being unable to prevent or even refuse someone else’s distress.

I need to know it is over for both of us and not just me.

She is beyond hurting, but you cannot see beyond hurting. You cannot feel it. Verka has the memory of her last breath, but I don’t know if even that does it for me.

I need to somehow live her safety. It needs to be seen or touched or smelled or tasted. Something physical so that I get it.

So Charlie has been lying in bed with the blanket roll this morning, trying to get it. Trying to get that he no longer has to hurt her. No one else can hurt her. He is free now to make the choice not to hurt her. She is free now to choose not to be hurt by anyone.

He did start to get it. I started to get it.

It makes me realize I’ve kept myself from doing a lot of things that might help me because they seem insane. They seem pathetic. They seem like I am still broken.

I am still broken.

But. Also. I need to get better. And I need to go on getting through the day.

The blanket is always there. It can always be rolled up and held. Any time I need to remember, I can start showing my stupid, stupid brain the truth.

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