TheBanyanTree: Heartstone

[Laura]

>From the moment I became self-aware, I knew there was a shining gem at 
my center. A great red jewel which contains my Self. My Mother spent her 
time with me teaching me how to polish it, and make it shine. My father, 
not so much. He seemed to take great pleasure in chipping away at it, 
creating cracks which over time, turned black. My Mother would cover the 
cracks, and try to polish away the rough surface, but sometimes it just 
wasn't enough.

Life chipped away at it, too. The boys who picked me up in their work 
truck when I was 9, who stuffed their dirty hands down my shorts and 
pinched my nipples until I screamed and screamed, and then dumped me out 
onto the gravel on the side of the road like a bag of trash. That left a 
black mark.

The man at the cocktail party I attended at my aunt's house when I was 
12 (I felt SO grown up!) who asked me to dance, then spent the entire 
time groping my ass and rubbing his erection against my thigh. I 
couldn't scream then though, it wouldn't have been polite. Another black 
spot.

The day I spent hours trying to do something to make my father happy, to 
get him to do something besides humiliate me, to notice me, to praise my 
efforts. He didn't notice, except to say what I'd done (he didn't know 
it was me who'd done it) looked terrible, that he would have to work 
extra hard to fix the damage. That was the day I finally had the 
epiphany. Nothing I ever did would be enough. He would never love me or 
praise me, because he didn't even like me. He didn't want me around. I 
was a thorn in his side, a pebble in his shoe. A bit of my hearstone 
sloughed off that day, along with some of the blackness, leaving my 
heart smaller, but less damaged. After that, I spent my time avoiding 
him as much as possible, not making eye contact, trying to do nothing 
around him for which he could mock me. I decided he no longer existed in 
my universe. Nothing he did or said would be allowed to affect me.

About this same time, there was someone who decided that I was fair 
game, and every time they visited, he would sneak into my room in the 
pre-dawn hours and rape me. You can call it “molesting”, or whatever 
word you choose that's less brutal, but it's not. It's rape. This 
happened every time they visited us, and every time we visited them. I 
had no voice. Who would believe me anyway, a smart-alec girl? My word 
against his, and my word was worthless. The blackness was spreading.

The boy, who after 3 years of dating and being the perfect boyfriend, 
suddenly decided that I wasn't to have a life of my own. I could sit 
around the house and wait for him to be available, or I could go have my 
life without him. I chose my life. This left a crack, a rough surface 
with blackness all around.

The boy who proclaimed his love for me, said he'd call, but didn't. He 
showed up a few months later apologetic and claiming to be heartbroken 
about deserting me, 'oh please take me back', but the damage had been 
done. When he married another a few months later, I knew I'd made the 
right choice, even though the blackness in my heartstone grew a little 
more.

The boy who praised me, wrote me songs, brought me flowers, and 
violently raped me in the front seat of his car, well... that one 
damaged me badly. All the shine went out. I was gone.

Then I met a man. A man who showed me nothing but respect. He encouraged 
me. He supported me. He uplifted me. He helped my heart shine. He helped 
heal the blackness. He showed me ways to take control of my life, that I 
was enough, that I didn't need someone else to make my heartstone shine, 
I could make it shine all by myself, but also, that if you find the 
right someone, they can make it shine even more brightly.

And then he broke me. He shattered me with one short, thoughtless 
sentence. “I'll never [do that], it's not worth the trouble.” Which 
translated directly to “YOU're not worth the trouble.” All the breath 
went out of my body. The universe I had built up around this man and 
myself shattered. My heartstone shattered. My whole life, my existence, 
lay on the hot pavement in shards, sparkling coldly in the midday sun. 
My soul shriveled into a blackened husk. And he never noticed.

The next morning, after a long and mostly sleepless night, a new Self 
arose. The thing that shed the blackened husk is not beautiful. It is 
jet black, with flat, dull surfaces and rough, sharp edges. It is not 
shining. But it is hard. It is strong. It is unbreakable. It is immune 
to the hateful words and lies and manipulations of this world.

I did finally meet someone who loves me with all his heart. He has never 
betrayed me. He is as constant as it comes. He adores me. I don't know 
why. I feel badly because he did not get the best me. He got the broken 
me, the me who can never give my whole heart, not because I don't want 
to, but because I can not. I have no heart to give. I have only this 
hardness at my center, this impermeable cold blackness. I can no more 
remove it than I can reclaim the shining red jewel. I don't understand 
how he can feel these strong feelings for me when I am so hard and 
sharp, but I can accept and embrace it.

Laura

wolfljsh at gmail.com