It occurs to me as I move through this latest phase of having been injured that those many times that I was picked on as a child and called “stupid,” or accused of ignoring subject matter, or not responding quick enough to people’s demands – just not immediately gyrating to their puppetry – was because of multiple bouts of experienced head trauma.
But I was inside here all the while, observing, thinking…
And not allowed any room nor encouragement for reemergence.
Sometimes, I wanted to scream.
Other times, I would just lapse into despondent, drawn out silence.
But always, I was just waiting…
Waiting for my time.
Waiting for safety.
Candid Corvid Productions 