Robin – Circle of Tall Trees

From the Wild Collective Heart series: Part 12

Content Warning: Childhood distress, dissociation, and mature themes.

My favorite holiday is Halloween. Every part of me can agree on this. There was a time my father banned the holiday as the devil’s holiday, but looking back, I think it was more a money thing. He didn’t want to spend all the time and money on costumes for four, then five, then six kids, plus candy to pass out.

It was pretty traumatic to us as a people inside to watch all our peers enjoy the holiday spirit and know we couldn’t join in. My father was like that. He’d just decide holidays weren’t celebrated for a time, and we weren’t allowed to bug him about it, our mother being his mouthpiece and managing our upsets.

Halloween is our favorite. I’d decorate and carve pumpkins by myself and let Rogue watch the scary movies she liked. The poor thing just wanted the simplest stuff. I could never deny her, other than the vibrators. That was a bit much, in my opinion. Or, I concede, too much for me to deal with without her.

Dissociating from overwhelm is just a part of life to us. Not a problem necessarily, because ivy grows anyway. It just reroutes itself around obstacles and keeps shining those waxy green leaves.

There was a time I was terrified to be any bit different, and now I know that’s not fair to every part of me. We all deserve a life we can create in.

-Robin

From the Wild Collective Heart series: Part 3

Content Warning: Candid reflections on trauma processing, internal fragmentation, and mature themes.

I’ve probably owned a dozen vibrators at this point. I keep throwing them out and she keeps buying more. Once I can get at them, I do. I clean them, wrap them up, place them in plastic, and throw them in the dumpster. Then I sterilize the house.

I really can’t understand why this keeps happening. Neither her reaction nor mine. I feel sorry for the poor thing. She’s not meaning to go off on a tangent and neither am I. It’s just what we do. A strange balance at play. She lets the badness leak out a few days and then I clean it up.

Unfortunately, I joined her in smoking. It turns out I also needed a little break from the monotony of behaving like a saint always. I do care about getting into heaven, to which she points out we’re already in hell. What heaven? We clearly landed in the flames.

I keep her from embarrassing us and hold her when she’s crying.

It’d be years before I understood it was a trigger and an impulse to reenact her understandings of sex, her experiences. Demons demon and angels angel.

I was named for the robin’s egg found, sky blue, cracked open.

I can appreciate the symmetry to that now.

-Robin

Tag: Robin

Halloween Is Our Favorite

The Poor Thing

The Forest

Wander awhile

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