• Briana Holmes

The Room Where It Happens

There are times where I am unequivocally inspired by my own journey. My own experiences. My own recovery. My own resilience. I am inspired by what I’ve overcome.

Then there are times where I look at myself through a blurry glass and wonder if I will ever feel whole. I am disgusted with the daily fight of being a survivor. Tainted by unplanned triggers and unwanted memories.

I am unable to soothe myself due to the daily tasks of fighting the day to day job of making something outta nothing. The resilience has faded into weariness and all that is left is a tired soul, tired of hoping that I won’t always resent myself or my body.

My mind is unforgiving. It chooses to remember the shapeless figures in the dark & every time I bathe I’m reminded that my body was someone else’s favorite first. I try to remind myself that I’m not choosing this, just as I didn’t choose the violation. But the memories seem to be embedded there.

My mind says ” don’t you forget that no one cares or that you weren’t important enough to save.”

I seem to be forever stuck in the room where it happened. I see the tv. The couch and the Carpet that is still there to this day. My mind is there. My memories are there.

I had a good 12 months where the memories were not as bad. Not as strong. Not as potent.

But then my nephew died & I felt the pit in my soul open back up. & then there it was. The room. The room where it happened. Sitting there, almost waving at me to come in. Have a seat. Remember all that has hurt you. The worst part.

One of the last times I held my nephew was in that room. How could that room force it’s way into a good memory? It’s not fair.

So while I want to erase the room, tear down the house, and never ride by there again, erasing that room will erase our last moments together. Dammit. It’s just not fair.

16 days later, I enter into another room. It’s the ASCA MEETING ROOM. it’s also a place that I haven’t visited in awhile. But my spirits were low & I longed for the understanding that the silence of the room whispers back to you.

I longed for the smiles & the nods that said, “I get you. I am here.” No one really has to say anything in that room. This room is the room where it really happens. & this is the room that I will focus on & unpack my memories in.

So as I sat in the room, legs tucked underneath me I realized 2 things. I never sit that way anywhere else & I felt immediate ease.

I was laughing & smiling as I prepared to talk about difficult & disappointing things. I realized that I was in the most important room of all. This was the real room where it happens. The room where the healing & understanding would overcome those awful memories. The room where unworthiness would politely ease its way out of the door. The room where inadequacy would not have space to sit. The room where the silence spoke so loudly in waves of understanding & love.

I love this room.

I have been in recovery for almost 5 years & some days I think I have arrived where as some days feel like day 1. But I want to encourage you to come & sit with us in this room. There’s no bright light, lush & lavish furniture or an requirements of who you are SUPPOSED to be. There’s compassion, love & understanding waiting for you.

Undoubtedly, I will have another bad day or even week, but I know that the room where it happens will be available to me & you as well.

There are times where I am unequivocally inspired by my own journey. My own experiences. My own recovery. My own resilience. I am inspired by what I’ve overcome.

Then there are times where I look at myself through a blurry glass and wonder if I will ever feel whole. I am disgusted with the daily fight of being a survivor. Tainted by unplanned triggers and unwanted memories.

I am unable to soothe myself due to the daily tasks of fighting the day to day job of making something outta nothing. The resilience has faded into weariness and all that is left is a tired soul, tired of hoping that I won’t always resent myself or my body.

My mind is unforgiving. It chooses to remember the shapeless figures in the dark & every time I bathe I’m reminded that my body was someone else’s favorite first. I try to remind myself that I’m not choosing this, just as I didn’t choose the violation. But the memories seem to be embedded there.

My mind says ” don’t you forget that no one cares or that you weren’t important enough to save.”

I seem to be forever stuck in the room where it happened. I see the tv. The couch and the Carpet that is still there to this day. My mind is there. My memories are there.

I had a good 12 months where the memories were not as bad. Not as strong. Not as potent.

But then my nephew died & I felt the pit in my soul open back up. & then there it was. The room. The room where it happened. Sitting there, almost waving at me to come in. Have a seat. Remember all that has hurt you. The worst part.

One of the last times I held my nephew was in that room. How could that room force it’s way into a good memory? It’s not fair.

So while I want to erase the room, tear down the house, and never ride by there again, erasing that room will erase our last moments together. Dammit. It’s just not fair.

16 days later, I enter into another room. It’s the ASCA MEETING ROOM. it’s also a place that I haven’t visited in awhile. But my spirits were low & I longed for the understanding that the silence of the room whispers back to you.

I longed for the smiles & the nods that said, “I get you. I am here.” No one really has to say anything in that room. This room is the room where it really happens. & this is the room that I will focus on & unpack my memories in.

So as I sat in the room, legs tucked underneath me I realized 2 things. I never sit that way anywhere else & I felt immediate ease.

I was laughing & smiling as I prepared to talk about difficult & disappointing things. I realized that I was in the most important room of all. This was the real room where it happens. The room where the healing & understanding would overcome those awful memories. The room where unworthiness would politely ease its way out of the door. The room where inadequacy would not have space to sit. The room where the silence spoke so loudly in waves of understanding & love.

I love this room.

I have been in recovery for almost 5 years & some days I think I have arrived where as some days feel like day 1. But I want to encourage you to come & sit with us in this room. There’s no bright light, lush & lavish furniture or an requirements of who you are SUPPOSED to be. There’s compassion, love & understanding waiting for you.

Undoubtedly, I will have another bad day or even week, but I know that the room where it happens will be available to me & you as well.

Always praying for your freedom,

Julian

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