Re-membering

non-subject: remembering
AWW ~ 1/19/11

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Dis-member. Re-member.
Dis-lodge. Re-lodge.
Dis-count. Re-count.
Dis-connect. Re-connect.
Dis-play. Re-play.
Dis-charge. Re-charge.
Dis-pair. Re-pair.
Dis-comfort. Re-comfort.
Dis and Re.
Yin and Yang.
Do and Ti.
See and Saw.

I was thinking today about my dark side. I think I only have two secrets. Why are they secrets? Because they shame me.

One secret happened 20 years ago. Only a handful of people know.

One secret I indulge in most every day. I have revealed it to some people. My ex-therapist. My current therapist. My family knows. My best friend, Arial, and my friend Louise.

I wonder if Louise and I will remain good friends.

I met Louise through the Monday night support group. It seems Louise joined around January, 2010. The group had started in the fall of 2008 as an online chat gathering. It eventually moved to a telephone conference call.

Louise had been with The Way back in the late 70s and maybe early 80s. She had a deep disgust for The Way and Dr. Wierwille. I'm not sure why, other than she blames The Way for some of her mental health issues. Perhaps The Way is to blame.

Louise still believes in a devil.

My secrets, other than the obvious secrets most everyone has...like masturbation. At least I figure most everyone has that secret. Or secret sexual fantasies. I'm not ashamed of those, but neither do I share them.

The secret of which I'm most ashamed involves my daughter, when she was between two-and-a-half and three years old. My son was an infant.

I don't recall the exact circumstance that prompted my anger. I imagine it was my chronic ill health. Fatigue was a constant companion. Perhaps I was suffering with postpartum depression.

I just wanted my toddler daughter to go to sleep, to leave me alone.

She lay on our kingsize bed. The bedrail must have been on the left side, where it always was. But I don't recall leaning over it as I put the pillow over my daughter's face. Was she crying? I ache as I try to recall. I feel an intense anguish, a past wish that I never would have had children. Of wanting her, and me to disappear.

I held the pillow over her face. I was crying.

Then I stopped myself.

Walk away Carol. Walk away. Walk out the bedroom door. Close the door. Leave Hannah alone.

What the fuck is wrong with me? This is no way for a believer to act. No way for a loving mother to behave.

Just writing that much scares me. What if I hadn't walked away?

I wonder how much and if that one horrid action affected her, though I doubt she remembers the act. Does she recall a vague feeling?

Re-call. I have a foggy remembrance of cuddling Hannah after I'd gotten my wits back. Of letting her know how very sorry I was; that I would never, ever, ever do such a thing again.

It seems I have written about this incident before. But still, from a distance.

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After thoughts...I realized a couple more "secrets." Probably even more lurk somewhere deep down. Another thing, a secret really ain't a secret if anyone else knows. As Ben Franklin said, "The only way to keep a secret between three people, is to kill two of them." Or something like that.

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