I am full of ruins: my brain, my body, and my being, compartmentalized into a vast array of crumbling construction. I drag them around or continue to deconstruct them until they exist only as sand particles enmeshed into the earth. They are worth nothing to me and weigh heavily on my daily experience. It takes time to constantly commit to chiseling them down; the sand turns to concrete when mixed with tears of grief.
In shame and protection, I hide my habitual ruins and only reveal the parts of myself who are ever happy, healthy, and free. Then wonder why I’m always so exhausted. I only do this at work now though, which is an accomplishment considering I used to do it all of the time.
I feel so free in my outer life- I literally just do whatever I want: sometimes that means exploring, sometimes seeing a friend, sometimes swimming, sometimes writing, sometimes eating shit, sometimes eating salads, sometimes staying in bed because that’s all I can muster after eating so much...salad.
But at work I still only reveal some compartments: obeying the age old lie that we must save our whole selves for life outside of it. At work I can prove my integration: stand strongly on a platform and proclaim- I am the founder of a Women’s Trauma Recovery Collective; I am an incest and illness survivor; look at who I have become in the wake of such great tragedy. I bear this identity, like a bear my last name- Lauren- meaning victory, a name that I chose for myself.
But the compartment that still struggles to get out of bed every morning, the compartment that often avoids brushing my teeth at night, the compartment that resists all responsibility because I’ve just had to carry too much of it for too long (and I’m a millenial and we hate that shit), the compartments that trigger with loud noises, children’s cries or screams, over stimulation, and not enough rest, these parts I still hide. These I consider reflections of my ruins.
The problem with this approach obviously is love. Love won’t allow for it. Love says, I would pay to see your ancient ruins, your crumbled bodies, your rotting tombs. Love says, let me in and I will carress your hard stone walls until they turn to polished marble.
When love is present, these compartmentalizations are no longer necessary. This old habit I have, one built from years of coping with trauma and its aftermath: Complex-PTSD, can go now if and only if I have the courage to let it be.
Love is so present in my current professional environment. So when I gave my one months notice because it was too hard to manage the job and my triggers at the same time, they were shocked, perplexed, confused. They thought I was happy. I had succesfully accomplished what I had been taught was my professional obligation: to keep the public and private separate. But these rules did not apply to them. They didn’t ask me to build a wall between the personal and the professional. They didn’t understand why I chose to hide my ruins from them.
They wished for a ticket to my memorial ground and I refused to let them in. I hurt them. In this environment of courageous love, my compartmentalizations no longer served me.
I didn’t know that my ruins were in such high demand. I have worked so hard to protect them with walls, but I was blind to the fact that maybe someone, or even a few people, might want to join me in the process of their preservation and admiration.
I‘m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
Now that I know you’re safe, is it it too late to gift you a ticket? Have you grown tired of waiting for the door to open and returned home? Has my time expired to invite you in? If not, come and see now the historical remains of a life I never wanted to live, but chose to anyway in the chance that one day I might encounter people like you, a love like yours. You can look and touch as long as you do ever so carefully. But of course you will because that is who you are.
It seems that the wall between my riches and my ruins must come down now. Turns out they’re all the same anyway: a glorious mausoleum and museum of old artifacts and new discoveries. All worthy of this eternal love. Who knew? They did...apparently.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
You have opened my ruins for viewing. I welcome you to come now and see.