She stood at the window, sunlight dancing through her hair, as she waited for the noise to stop. It began softly, encouraging her to turn, to look, to see. Fear cemented her body in place. *STOP!*, she wanted to scream as the noise formed itself into words. *I don't want to hear you, leave me alone!* Her hands rise and clamp over her ears trying desperately to stop the words. *Go away, go away, go away* The words muffled from her lips and unable to block the voice speaking. "Turn around Crie" It's a trick, she knows it is. *This is not real*, she thinks to herself. As if the words had been spoken out loud, the reply was whispered in her ear." It is real, I am right here." Sharply she turns, her body tensed and stiff and she finds herself inches apart from Her. Not a single word is spoken in that time and space. Fear followed by anger plays across Crie's face. *Who are you?* *Why now?* *Why here?* The Woman presses a finger to Her lips, "Shhhhh, come with me" The tug on her arm is gentle yet firm as she allows herself to be lead to the center of the room. The crate in her arms held dear to her chest, Crie sets it down and starts to protest. *Leave me alone, I won't do as you say, This is mine, only mine, just go away!* The Woman just smiles and sits Herself down on top of the crate, She sits and She waits. The torment within, the memories so clear, the crate so familiar, so why is there fear? Recognition began, Crie looked at Her face. *I know You* "you do"
*But You went away long ago!* The Woman patted Her lap motioning Crie to come sit. Crie, I have always been here from your very first wish......
I lost that original milk crate a long time ago when I left my home state forever. After telling the story of the milk crate to my partner she had the same sort of response that most people do. I am often told that it is so awful that it had to be that way and so wonderful that I could do that for myself. It was left like that. She has heard so much over the years and just held me and listened as I would tell her something new. Anger charges through her when I speak of the abuse and I have to allow her that. It was horrible. It was wrong. Many people respond with some sort of anger but those who have experienced the same type of abuse are thankful that someone is willing to take it from the darkness and bring it to light. I have never told the story of my past for the sake of telling. There is always a message, a reason. I speak about it to show that there is hope after survival and there is life and love after survival. It is possible to love, really love someone and trust them with your life. It is possible to walk through a disappointment and come out the other side whole. It is possible to be abused and never abuse in return. It is possible to be torn apart by monsters and come out the other side as a compassionate person.
One Saturday we were spending the day going through different thrift shops together. It is something we have enjoyed doing together. We call it treasure shopping. There is rarely anything specific we are looking for. We are just enjoying time together and looking for treasure :) At one of the stores, while I was going through some books, my partner joined me. She is not as interested in books as I am and the shelf I was at happened to be right in front of some furniture. She sat on a small sofa behind me. I turned around to show her the book in my hand. I am not sure if I even still held the book in my hands, all I could say was *oh my God* over and over. She was alarmed to say the least. Words escaped me as she asked me what was wrong. I pointed to the object just slightly behind her. *Crie what in the hell is wrong with... Oh my God! She repeated my words and went to the object picking it up. She looked at me and told me that I had to have it. I was speechless. In her hands was a red milk crate. Not wasting any time she took it and me to the cash register and paid for it. When we were in the car, with the crate in the back, she looked at me and said, *I don't care if that thing is in our living room for the rest of our lives, but you are never going to be without it again!
She always listens to me, we do that for one another. This time she heard me as well, she understood the significance even though her response had been like so many others.
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