#LifeStories

A Letter Home

Posted on by ROCK

Dear USA,

It’s been many years since I left home, a place I loved and freely roamed.

Born in nineteen sixty-three amidst a war across the sea.

In the south where I grew up, desegregation bloomed like butter cups.

Children from the city known for song were placed on buses and travelled long.

In class three a bus stopped to park at my school, out poured children red, Black, and blue.

I was excited to see their faces, unaffected by our different races.

In class three I played daily with Antoine, Joyce,and tiny Bailey.

Their dark brown eyes to this day, warm my heart in a solemn way.

Clasped hands white and brown, skipping rope and running `round.

We merrily sang until the school bell rang,

“Ring around the rosies, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down!” All while spinning on the merry-go-round.

Taking turns we felt each other’s hair, our teacher smiled as we sat in our chairs.

Our teacher too was brown and had a baby growing, we all were told as she was showing.

I recall a day while she was on duty, a white boy gave her a gift, two hand knit booties.

Her face lit up for they were hand sewn by his white mother, someone unknown.

“Bussing” humans, the government cited, was a success as we were united.

Now I am sixty in a far away land, my country divided like it all began.

Red, Black, and blue a whole other meaning, what happened to us playing and singing?

Society scarred and sour, carelessly handled by no superpower.

I hate you yet long for you, your troubles are mine, too.

I defend you, our people, your resilience, and pride,

Yet I am broken as the world watches in stride.

Guns, shootings, and Black American’s still, fighting to live without being killed.

How are Antoine, Joyce, and Bailey? Are your babies now men, are they worried daily?

Protest signs, riots are all still there, not in my memory but daily in flares!

As children we huddled in tornado drills, giggled, joked, and made small squeals.

Now although in so called unition, school drills are needed against ammunition.

At eight with Antoine, Joyce, and Bailey side by side, we never imagined our lives would divide.

I never imagined I’d live across the sea; I wonder if they remember me.

As headlines roll in from my home state, peace and love are still a debate.

The flag which waves before me is yellow and blue, this country is not perfect, yet better it’s true.

Democracy, hypocrisy, all countries have crisis; I expected my homeland to still be the nicest.

I stand at the shore of the North Sea as tears well up for Tennessee.

The little girl inside still cares about you, the USA, red, Black, and blue.

Sincerely,

Hope

CrAcKeD; The Continued Escapades of Lm and Rock

Posted on by ROCK

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*New Readers Welcome! I recommend that you begin in October of 2021 to get to know Rock and Lm who pop in and out of my blog.Thank you

As followers of Lm’s journey through pain, both physical, mental and emotional you know by now she can be just one badass cocktail away from going astray. Rock has been summoned from his solitary berth to once again tail her, resurrect the fight within and teach her to trust her instincts and eventually others. The walls have been re-sealed in her dank, dark stairwell and Rock has kept the key to all the drawers aligned with every jagged step for sixty years. She has stolen the key in the past and reopened little boxes with big, ugly memories and he has had to talk her back to the present. Lm has been doing fairly well, working to grow stronger physically and clinging to the belief that she will beat the pain, outrun it, throw it over a cliff maybe. It’s still very much part of her and Rock knows when to step up his game. Diagnosis #1, Chronic Post Traumatic Stress Disorder often leads her to vivid and complex nightmares and she recently finished watching “How To Get Away with Murder” on Netflix; it starred and was produced by an American Actress, Viola Davis. Never had Lm connected with a woman as strongly as she has with the character “Anna Mae”, also known as “Annalise Keating”, a powerful attorney and professor of law who is cracked, just like Lm. Anna Mae reverted to her little self often, crawling within to comfort her inner child; she’d be all snotty nosed with her big brown eyes bloated from salt water tears and curl up in her bed for days. Despite these episodes wrought with mental and emotional struggles, her character carried her flashbacks around with her daily with a fierceness that sometimes spiraled out of control. When times got tough “Annalise” could be mean as hell yet so loveable that Lm wanted to jump into the series and hug her when her little Anna Mae’s real self revealed it was savagely broken, not once but repeatedly, just like Lm’s true stories. In real life, the actress experienced great trauma and triumph and was interviewed by Oprah Winfrey about her life and a book she has written. In the interview, which takes place in Hawaii her hair was soft and curly, her arms strong and her smile and appearance impeccable. Just like Lm she carries her own stories around with her, has tried to share them with the world to help others and hopefully herself. The moment Lm believes she has healed from the relentlessly depressing traumas from her own life they pop out like a deer jumping across the road in front of a car, the driver and deer are both startled for a moment, then grateful they dodged a would be tragedy, they both continue on slightly shaken. Rock propels Lm to read about CPTSD and to be an advocate for mental health and she sometimes actually feels under control, shouting at Rock to get off her damn back because she doesn’t need his stonefaced stare. Lm wishes Oprah would read her blog or her one published fictional book, “Tea With Nanny”. She obviously doubts Oprah will surf through self published authors on Amazon and discover her but allows herself the room to dream big some days. Diagnosis #2 Chronic Repetitive Pain Syndrome or CRPS. This is the second ingredient to her badass cocktail recipe. After two decades of intense pain stemming from an inherited degenerative disc disease, (DDD) severe osteo-arthritis coupled with Diagnosis #3, Fibromyalgia Lm’s body just stopped cooperating. It has been through so many tests, met with so many doctors and specialists from A2Z that hope begin to flail about like a freshly caught trout on a rock struggling to breathe. She tried to stay busy in her impaired bodily image, practiced mindfulness, meditation, prayers to various all knowing visionaries, wrote,drew, and had many penpals.From not moving enough and fearing the excruciating pain that moving often led to, her muscles began to spasm, her entire life became overtaken with dis-ease. Years of prednisolone have caused her to be cortisol dependent leaving her weaker than she has ever felt at times. After her stay at Uppsala University Pain Rehabilitation Clinic in Sweden she began to feel possessed by positivity. It was like a week of “Ted Talks” and a retreat that kicked her out of bed each day with tough challenges not just physical but mental and emotional. This reset Lm’s self image on a high that lasted what seems like forever but in reality it’s been a slow three and a half months since she came home. Here is where the badass cocktail blew up in her face, Rock resurfaced dutifully and she is back to the, “I can’t do it” stage. After many mornings doing yoga-lite with a Swedish television celebrity health guru,“Yoga med Sofia”, trying to walk 20 minutes or more at least three times a week and watching her weight go down, the FIBRO bomb dropped out of nowhere. The one diagnosis she can’t shake, hates due to it’s social stigma, a disease poisoned by wicked disbelievers, one drowning in controversy and for reasons still unknown, it changes one’s life forever. Lm’s kind of fatigue is the type that can’t be overcome by splashing cold water on your face or drinking twelve cups of strong coffee, it is invincible. The pain that morphine barely breaches, the depression of losing the fight, over and over again bleeds the mind dry. All the progress Lm has made to create the image of a better self just floated away. Glued to the sofa, too weak to bathe or care increases depression. The brain fog from her pain is cluttering her mind to the point that words lose meaning and writing them down has almost become impossible. Her blog and her poetry and short stories suffer,too. Her creative self is swallowed and regurgitated repeatedly. Rock alas kicked her to call on her Dr. who upped Lm’s cortisol as she’s been dragging and very short of breath. What does all this mean? What is the point of writing about any of this? We know Lm is a fighter, stronger than her worst self, and Rock will hold onto her so she can get back on her saddle. Knowing she can’t escape or hide from any of these diagnosis makes her weary and she slides down a few steps and Rock always leads her slowly, ever so gently back to the light under the doorway that leads her into clarity. The crack remains, no matter how many times Rock has plastered over it,he knows it’s an ongoing project,just like Lm.

The Revelations of Rock; Lm is Growing Into Herself

Posted on by ROCK

For new readers, I highly recommend that you return to October 2021 when Little Me was fighting the inner flight from her dysfunctional childhood and adolescence to get over her “Daddy issues”.

Sixty years and some Rock is finally letting Lm fend for herself; her regressions are fewer and her boundaries tight. There are fences to mend and some details to box up and burn. Sixty years it has taken this one inner girl to accept that her father, her idol, first love to whom no one could ever compare was and is a fraudulent character created in his head and placed into hers. No man matched his wit, his charismatic charm, his ability to control an entire room, and several other’s lives. She no longer sees him this way, in fact she pities that he was so ashamed of who he really was he had to hide behind falsities his entire life. That’s a truly gruesome story. Lm’s husband says that he knows she still ” misses him” for one of her weaknesses is sentimentality, recalling both hilarious and almost unbelievable tales of her father’s antics. Rock knew she was healthy when on her birthday her father managed to email her an ” I will always love you” birthday message. It meant nothing to her and she quickly blocked him and deleted it. It was to soothe his soul, not hers. He will be eighty this month and surrounds himself with trained sheep who jump through hoops to please him. Lm doesn’t wish him harm and from her understanding of karma, she is just as susceptible to its varietal awakenings. In a warm, cozy hotel full of books and antiques and oddities of interest she sips her Rooibos tea in soft yellow lighting, Norah Jones had sung repeatedly for an hour via the sound system and she no longer cries. Her husband has treated her to a two night get away and she knows his authenticity, his love awaits her.

And Just Like That…

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We ran aground, abandoned our selves, leaving remnants of our selfishness behind. Tattered, weathered, we crawled ashore only to find that we were not existing to comfort one another, only to comfort ourselves. Distress signals were fired, yet no one came to calm our storm. We were no longer sailing as one, broken, I abandoned ship. What good Captain of honour does such a ferocious leap, only for their soul? Perhaps one who gave all of herself, became a passive wench following another’s sails, n’er listening to the wind’s song or calling out in the fog with her own voice. Thunderous warnings were present, no good shipman would deny them. She bailed out, tossed by the tyrannical storm and sank. Sank, scraping her fair skin on the rugged seashore, bleeding and starved, she made it just far enough to see him walk away. His footsteps, deep and arrogant were all that she was left with. She looked at the sky and saw no light, only darkening clouds laughing at her naivity.

Friday the 13th; Beautiful Bones, Pain and Freedom

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Santa’s Dysphoric Bodily Image; no worries his spirit may be heavy yet he is always ready for next year.

Rock knocked his balls out of the park this last week when Lm was willingly placed in a physical renovation program for humans with Chronic Repetitive Pain Syndrome in a prestigous university hospital with an entire staff run by strong women. This gave her the power punch she has needed and despite her discomfort with traveling, her inability to hide out and write, draw or bite her nails in a closet, she pushed through succesfully. At one point, Rock stepped aside and let her fly, a first for her in a very long time. The head Doctor was kick ass brilliant, beautiful as she reflected her own knowledge with a striking clarity; her eyes drew Lm into a new type of comfort, strangely that meaning accepting she must face her physical discomfort with vigor and bone by bone, breath by breath reawaken from the massive sink hole she has been lying in for three years. Due to privacy, as always, Lm has vowed not to reveal names. “Doctress” is how she will refer to her as she sits soaking in the late afternoon sunlight; regal as royalty, she deserves a crown. Rock admits he is so damn tired of getting Lm up and out of the deep stairwell, her aches and pains are a load to carry and perhaps he should thank Doctress also. The depression which was hovering over Lm lifted in a one week stint as day after day angelic women served her hope; nurses and assistants, a physical therapist, occupational therapist, a psychologist, a social worker and a psychiatrist broke through the black ceiling allowing Lm to refind part of her inner strength. From the woman who brought the food, and a pack of several special humans from different worlds converging, Lm was able to glue pieces of herself together again. Friday the 13th she was released. Bad luck? No! She packed up her troubles, traumas and beautiful bones and with Rock trailing behind her for once she led the way to their next adventure. What is important, sincerely the most significant experience summorisation is Lm after wallowing in severe pain, rolling over and over in deep fear for years has been handed a baton to continue passing forward; she can not run a marathon, yet she can pass on her light to others. How long will she hold it all up? As long as she puts her stubborn mind to it. Rock has relaxed and leans against a wall watching her efforts with glee yet with sentimental reservations as part of him fears Lm will go forward without him. Lm knows this and although she won’t admit it, she will never let go of Rock nor abandon his concrete loyalty, together they have come this far and as they enter part 2, scene one, stage center, their characters will eventually merge. Lm echoes, ” hold on, hold on” to all those hurting in any way out in this crazy, broken and struggling world. Her faith in nature leads her to believe even in the smallest of ways, life will be better for not only herself but for this floating planet called Earth, it’s inhabitants and the creatures above and below. Believing in the spirit of love is a choice. One tiny choice, minute by minute.

Pa Rumpa Pum Pum; Lm and her Drum. Part 1.5

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The beat of Christmas is thumping from within her breast. Glossy flashes of overdone fun, stupored guest’s belongings trusted in Lm’s care remind her of unwanted overtures. Slurring, “Where’s my coat gorgeous?”. The squeezed cheeks, vile hugs from men twice her age who smelled of aged cheese and scotch. “That’s your daughter?”; oh, BadDad was proud then. Lm adored him still. He was all knowing, and she did not care what people said, he was her everything and no one could tell her otherwise. Rock is shoving a big fir tree down the stairwell, it’s walls now likely full of black mold. “What the hell! We can barely breathe in here as it is!”. Lm does her Scarlett O’Hara impression and falls as if fainting when Rock sets up the full Scottish pine. “Shall I drape myself in red velvet curtains, hang mistletoe and pluck a goose?”; Ah, Rock has a reaction from her finally. “Tell me about good times Lm! Must we roll in the stench of unbearable times always?”. Then Lm speaks, “FINE! BadDad is like gumbo, a bit of this, a tad of that and somehow he always made his fuck up’s better. He knew he could lie to others in front of me and I would never cross him. I miss him. I miss his daydreams, his enthusiasm, his blue eyes that could cry so dramatically, the same eyes that broke me still have a family, MY family. I had to forsake them to save us. Five of my seven half-siblings believe in him, celebrate Christmas right now with him and it’s painful. Three are strong women who would never take what I did from him. How am I to feel when he lied to their mother’s, cheated on them and even though my first little sister from Elle knows enough to stand up for me, she retreats. Why? It’s a hell of a lot easier to have the abused one far away in another country.” “Do you want to change it somehow?” asks Rock. Lm smells the fresh scent of the forest greenery and looks lost. She then starts to make popcorn and finds a needle and thread to sew a traditional cranberry popcorn chain. “I know one thing Rock. Thanks to you. TRUTH is the dystopian playground for the likes of us. We can no longer play with the others but at least we have one another.” Rock the protector, the foreman of all that is rightuous is wrong. Wrong in his predictions that is; Lm’s strength and courage surprises him yet he is thankful that Lm may just be able to go on with her life, with him on her shoulder and together they can burn the secret files from her past. Or can they? To cut the ties is a frightening thought. Can Lm stand up for herself and can Rock help her to heal? There is not much time left and God knows something must change permanently soon. Her physical pain, her cptsd and feelings of being erased tower over her. In the shadows of the well meant Christmas tree from Rock she feels her Daddy’s hand, his old love and wonders if he will ever tell her siblings, his wife, or even himself the Truth. Christmas is lost in old songs, unrequited love and Rock knows, “Pa Rumpa Pum Pum” fills Lm’s heavy heart with the kind of memories that creep upon many lost souls whether they summons them or not this time of year. Lm blurts out, “So you want a good memory Rock? Will that make you feel better? It sure as hell won’t help me but I’ll do it for you because it is Christmas Eve.” Lm stands and shares the memory of caroling with BadDad’s mother whom she adored. “My cousins and I went to neighbors and sang Jingle Bells, The Little Drummer Boy and more. That’s a good memory. Why? Because BadDad wasn’t there.” Lm tries to straighten the tree and carefully adorns it with her popcorn and cranberry chain. “To bad you can’t eat, Rock. I’m craving rice pudding. The door to Lm and Rock is slightly open and she feels the cold, frosty air. Integrating with Rock is a far off dream; whether it’s due to the spirit of hope and love that Christmas brings or her secret fantasy, Lm wants to feel whole again.

Half and Half; The Division of Self

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Chronic Pain; The Modalities of Madness

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“It’s that TIME of year, the gruelling, catastrophic melancholy jingles of good tidings deepen Lm’s bastard of a headache.” Rock reminds Lm it’s not her “JOB” to be jolly. Lm thought last year was tough with her mother visiting; fibromyalgia, brain fog and her severe spinal pain made being merry impossible; polite and engaging was a morose daily event. Lm’s mother still does not get it even though she says she does. Her mother wakes at seventy-nine years old in good health, fully dresses, puts on her jewellery and lipstick then the giant elephant, PAIN in the ass, Lm woke slovenly, unrested, clad in in her night clothes, needing the toilet and wishing her mother to be quiet. “Good morning!” “How do you feel today?” Blah, blah, blah would ensue, and Lm would use the bathroom then excuse herself to her room again. She had wanted to shout and completely lose her fucking cool and say, ” I don’t know what a good morning is!” “I feel like shit”. What a tiring memory; simply recounting it drives steel bars through Lm’s ears, clanging, banging, whistling to the point of insanity, “Tinnitus”, Rock recalls. Lm glares at Rock, “Shut up, you don’t have ears.” Now, after having covid last March 2022 Lm has made a steady decline, like a little steam engine riding it’s breaks she slowly took each turn, believed she was in control and would not careen into the mountain sides and land in a big heap culminating into a pile of unsalvageable parts. Yet, she did. She is a heap of bitter moments, throbbing bones, more and more fatigued each minute as she lies entangled within her dreadful blob of perpetual turmoil. Dreams are cruel and vivid now. Christmas music isn’t cutting it for her and Rock pushing her to wash her hair, take more pain meds only irritates her. An unwelcomed mouse gnaws in the ceiling above her bed and her eyes burn from lack of rest. Sleeping is her game now. Fa la la la la. Rock is not as strong now. He has always carried her with crushing will and managed her weaknesses; it’s obvious he is vulnerable, too. She has clung to his ability to push through the physical pain, the abuse, the sickness, the past, the failures and smile. He can’t do it alone now and is scared. Who will help Lm? Who will see she is too weak to fight much longer? She does have two promising doctors now and soon will fly off to a special hospital for chronic repetitive pain patients. What about her CPTSD, BadDad, unresolved “Black Sheep” night terrors? What about suicidal ideation? No one wants to hear this part. Amsterdam is sounding like a good place to depart this goddamn nightmare. Laying on sofas, forgetting words, sleeping for hours now while it seemed like a romp in the snow wasn’t so long ago, a wintery walk through the forest, cooking masterfully with passion, playing a game of cards with the kids, being the “I got this” kind of mother. Lm knows she doesn’t have this now. She won’t climb a mountain, canoe or see Botswana nor make it back to her favourite old haunts with her husband. She dreams of parties and dancing, remembers her youthful beauty and laugh. She can’t take care of her surroundings and just wants out. Rock can’t console her more. He has run out of ideas. There are no good surprises coming. She will sleep through the holidays, check out her last shot at being “better” at the special pain rehabilitation centre and then come back, just the same, turn sixty in January in an uneventful way and wonder no more “why me?”. She will let go of Rock, stop dreaming and stop trying to make friends stay. No MORE existing through this shit, she will give in. She doesn’t want to be felt sorry for, sympathy and prayers. She wants OUT! Because NOBODY truly knows what it takes for her to live. The anxiety, lying in a pool of regrets, wrong turns, and basically her dumbass MINDFULNESS journey leading her right back to what she really is, useless. A total drag. Someone who holds everyone she loves back. Pride has left on the last ship out of here. Divided. Lm is now a thing. An “it”. Rock stumbles and TRUTH agrees, the two of them are in for a big last fight before the bell rings and the winner is declared. Honestly, in the boxing ring of life, he doubts either will rise again.

Why Does TRUTH Matter?

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The Philosophical Dialogues Between RocK and Lm ; Part I

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Rock is calm, in control and direct; he nudges Lm after days of her hiding so deeply within herself that she hasn’t eaten properly. She developed this unhealthy habit as a teenager along with over exercising, mega dosing herself on over the counter diet pills and eventually she was given “black beautys” by her worst addiction, TJ. That’s the TRUTH. Her first love was older, maybe twenty-one going on twenty-two when she met him on the city docks in Annapolis, Maryland; he fulfilled all the longing she had for her father’s attention. When BadDad had visited her in Nashville she was treated like a wealthy princess, shown off to his friends for her beauty and good manners which he was proud of. When she ran away to live with him he had married the wonderful Elle and she longed to be with her baby sister, D. Expectations were quicky extinguished. BadDad was curt, often critical of Elle and used Lm to find younger girls to hit on. Lm never knew how to deal with this and just pushed it into the stairwell with everything else that tried to break her spirit. She was naive and desperate for love; TJ was smooth, like Old Spice commercials, a sailor, a good drunk, a good Catholic, and a sex addict; he introduced Lm at barely sixteen to a wide variety of drugs. TRUTH. “You could have overdosed!” Rock is actually still surprised Lm is alive. “Yeah, well I didn’t, did I?” Lm is snarky, angry at TJ to this day. He was the one who slept with everyone she knew, in fact he slept with other girls while she waited for him in his best friend’s room. His best friend was a good person and although drugging and drinking, too he maintained some sort of faint resemblance to decent ethics. She would go to him (aka “Moby”) and sob; he always comforted her and he didn’t hit on her which gained her trust. Soon TJ introduced her to crystalmeth, cocaine, hashish, uppers, quaaludes, hard liquor, acid (LSD) and the habit of daily pot use. Her mornings were black coffee, amphetimines and saltine crackers, just enough to start the day. Lm’s father couldn’t do much because he wasn’t around enough and well, he had no room to talk. Lm new about his teenaged lover, his mistresses and flings and tried to bury the secret life he led behind Elle’s back. Her desperation for being seen, loved, adored, and wanted was now a sickness and TJ took full advantage of it. He would show up at her school in his old station wagon which he and Moby named “the Whale”; they started a painting company and lived on an old boat docked not too far from her house. She had been transferred to an elite private school after failing religion in tenth grade. She refused summer school and thus was tossed to the next VIP high school and it was life changing. She made friends, met really nice nerdy boys she liked but TJ had a good grip on her. She felt obligated to him and missed out on much of the fun with her new classmates. Other than BadDad and a few drunks hitting on her, TJ would become the one who broke her into small fragments of a girl, he would groom her just as her father had and she would take all of his emotional and mental abuse in a grotesque self deprivating way, for she had no identity; she was only HIS. Rock forces Lm to nurture her inner child, sip some tea, come forward with all TRUTH day by day. Why does TRUTH matter? Rock says, “Denying your own experiences leads to a deep sickness.” He is never giving up on Lm and promises to help her heal and in turn she can heal others. It’s dark twenty-four hours a day right now and Lm is also physically unwell. She can’t accept her pain within her heart, or that which engulfs her soul; how is she to accept her physical pain? Rock wants to hold her but he can not. He wants to teach her to hold onto herself. Rock said, “Lm, if I could punch TJ in the snout, I would; but we of all people know violence solves nothing.” Our only secret “mean” wish is that TJ and BadDad suffer for what they did to us. Lm whispers, “Why must I suffer in my dreams all alone?”. Tonight she may not sleep; it’s her only gaurantee that she won’t wake in a cold sweat, with those fat salty tears burning her fair freckled face.

Not EVEN Close!

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Rock watches from the corner of his eye as Lm takes a long inhale of a pretend cigarette. She is satisfied she is back in her dank quarters, just the two of them without disturbance. Rock has told her she is far from healed and that acceptance of her past eases her presence and will lead to a healthier future. ” Oh yay”, Lm replied, ” a healthy future is so enticing!”. Lm is not believing in Rock or the future full of smiles, love and peace anymore. She is overcooked, baked to a crisp and hard. Rock assures her that if she continues to tell her TRUTH, her story, that she will overcome all of her pain. Lm knows that even if one person saw beyond her soft blue eyes she’d be leary. Everyone, every single person in her world is backing away, and she knows that she has only her pain mentally, physically and emotionally to count on waking her at three a.m. She pulls out a drawer full of photos and sees herself at seven with BadDad and the nice girlfriend at a protest. She’s sad, looking down and he is oblivious. The word of the day, her life and relationships, with her mother and father is oblivious. Obviously oblivious.

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Resurrecting ROCK

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After a long hiatus, Rock was found face down in wet leaves, stashed behind the family pet’s gravestones

For some newer readers, you might consider going back to the very first post in October 2021; Rock has been crucial to LittleMe’s growth, always her protector and strong. As Lm gets healthier, crushing her past with a mortar and pestle grain by grain she hid Rock and escaped his wise, solemn advice. Why would she do this to her best cover, her internal bodyguard since she was so small, she couldn’t talk? Rock knows and is upright, straight forward so let him explain why, despite her bravery, she still needs him and always will. ROCK is all knowing, a TRUTH teacher, and he sees what Lm is thinking before she acts. Without him, Lm (despite feeling she can take on the world), well, simply put, she can’t. Lm suffers from childhood trauma, chronic post-traumatic stress disorder, CPTSD, depression, and extreme insecurity because those she loved like BadDad let her down, not once but to the deepest, darkest, unforgettable place that creeps up on her, breaks her and torments her still. “Lm?”. Silence. Damn. “Lm? I’m back, still here for you. Are you under the bed? Are you in the stairwell opening memories without me?”. He waits. He hears a whistle, the kind a small child tries to make but it’s more like a soft blow of wind with a hum. “Come out Lm and let’s talk about what you’ve been up to. “Lm is indeed under the bed. Out stretches her hand from the same old bed she fled to when BadDad memories became too big when she was young. She feels Rock’s gritty surface, whimpers and doesn’t retreat. Rock is everlasting, part of her until her last breath; she wraps her smallest self around him as tears flood the floor. Rock is good at cleaning up messes and doesn’t mind. “We are closer to being one, but Lm you are not ready. I will know when it’s time to merge.” Rock wants to keep her safe and tells her, “Don’t hide me away again, we need each other Lm. Do you understand why now?”. Lm nods her head up and down and wants to articulate “Yes.” She can’t talk right now and is grateful Rock returned. “Tired of keeping up that big girl smile?”. Lm nods again. “I got you. Rock is here. Rest your heartache, leave your longing, stop waiting for the sky to open and for BadDad to hear you, admit his sins, to regret his lies and wrongs. It IS NOT going to happen Lm. He does NOT care and never will because you remind him of who he really is. Rest child. I will stand guard; I will keep you from starving for his love.” Lm lies in her puddle of tears with Rock. She is sorry to admit, she is not even close to being healthy. Rock knows Lm also has much chronic physical pain and is tired of fighting, that she is weary. He assures her she can close her eyes, but he knows he can never stop her dreaming.