Trauma does heal, in Time
I saw a post the other day of manatees off of a dock, and it reminded me of my little trailer on the river in Weeki Wachee. It’s so hard to think of that place, of those days. That beautiful river with the otter family that lived under the sea wall, bringing their babies out to play in the early mornings and evenings; the egrets and blue herons stalking through the low tide looking for fish. Of hearing the breath of the manatees when they came up for air, and knowing it was that time of year, when the magic was happening. There was such natural beauty there, it was peaceful, and I loved it. I lived there for months in peace, until he came home from prison, and then my peace was over.
When you’re a trauma survivor, you compartmentalize your memories. You put the bad ones away so you don’t have to look at them, and they’re the ones that creep out to hurt you at the most inopportune moments. Even those memories that aren’t bad, per se, but include your abuser are often hidden away so as not to trigger any hurtful memories, and these cause huge gaps in the timeline of your past.
This manatee photo brought up a bunch of memories of my time on the Weeki Wachee river, both good and bad. Not every moment spent with my ex-husband was horrible, but I don’t remember the good times very much — I have to look at a photo album to recall them and that means seeing his face and that means going *there* in my mind and that means…nope. I can’t do it. I’m honestly unable to go back to many of those days because I just can’t see them in my mind. It’s probably for the best — I get snippets here and there, which is enough. I was young, did a lot of drugs at the time (which is why I married someone who was so abusive in the first place) and have no reason to go back there.
But the manatees! Those, I miss. I miss them, and the natural beauty of that crappy little trailer even though it ended up flooded in 1993 while I was 8 months pregnant with my daughter from the abusive prick that tried to kill me while I was 3 months pregnant with her. (Note: He finally went back to jail and I could sleep soundly again. And then the flood. 1992/93 was a rough time but I spent it in beauty.) I miss the ducks, and the otters playing in the yard, and fishing off my sea wall, and feeding my vegetable scraps to the gentle sea cows that swam in the river in my backyard.
One day, I hope to be able to think upon those beautiful creatures without it being ruined by memories of an awful human being that tried to ruin me. He didn’t manage to do it, I’m still here. I’m a little worn and torn at the edges, but time heals. Nearly 30 years later and I can look at a manatee photo, remember my backyard and the manatees and write this. Once upon a time, I couldn’t even do that.
