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The Brick Reclamation Project

November 26, 2008

Brick Wall As survivors, we put walls in place to keep us safe from our  offenders.  These walls work.  The proof – we’ve survived.

What happens when the wall stops working?  What happens when our awareness of the wall becomes acute?  Do we openly and willing go about tearing down the walls?  Do we easily accept those parts of ourselves the wall has kept away? Do we understand that demolishing the wall, stops us from becoming our own worst offender?  Will we do what we need to do, when the wall stops protecting and starts harming us?

I’ve only recently started asking and answering these questions.

I’ve always spoken of my molestations without emotional connection.  Sure I’ve shed tears, as society expects tears during such revelations.  I’ve felt shame at the shedding of those tears.  I’ve felt vulnerable as I found myself outside the walls I’d built to protect.  As soon as I realized the vulnerability, I deftly returned to the protection offered between those walls.  I didn’t see my retreat as an offensive move.  It was defensive only I was never safe from my own hands, my thoughts, my actions, my reactions or my interpretation of the imperfections I shouldered.

I flung my body at those walls until my body became limp and broken.  I hammered my emotions back into place if they came up in the wrong place, at the wrong time.  Yet every place was the wrong place and every time was the wrong time.

I became so detached that sometime I didn’t even realize I was having an emotional response.

The wall kept me safe from those who used me and abused me for years.  I laid those bricks, as my abusers provided the mortar.  I lovingly hand formed soft bricks from the red sienna clay.  The mortar was the problem, not the bricks.

I am salvaging those beautiful bricks.

The wall is coming down.

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