As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by memories of the legacy of childhood trauma while in my 50's.
My second post/song noted that for the next several songs, it's worth noting that the ages of 8, 9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma. These were not exclusive years, but they will show up more than once. On the other end of the spectrum, watch out for songs that reference my 50s.
Perhaps your life experience looks, in some fashion, similar to mine. If so, I'm sorry. That's really hard. If you care to listen to the songs I post, may they remind you that you are not alone; that our history is not our destiny; and, to quote Samwise Gangee, "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for."
I used 54 as a time to keep score
Of the therapy sessions I used to explore
What I had kept hidden behind all those doors
But I started to open them, at 54.
I did not expect 55 to arrive
By clearing the shelves I had stocked full of lies
About how to be manly and tough and alive
So I started restocking, at 55.
Throw into the mix, now that I’m 56
The sin-stained ruins I’m starting to fix
The trauma-brain reflex I’m trying to kick
And it’s starting to click, now that I’m 56.
Fifty-four showed the cracks,
Fifty-five brought me back,
Fifty-six let me breathe
With new habits I need
And the years still ahead
Aren’t a thing that I dread
’Cause Jesus once said
He gives life to the dead.
I think it’s a given, when I’m 57,
the mix of my life will still have too much leaven
but I’ll get with more clarity glimpses of heaven
but still be uneven, when I’m 57.
It would be great, when I hit 58
If congruence and wholeness would flood through the gate
And forgiveness and mercy would never abate
And God would make clear that love conquers hate
And it’s never too late
though long was the wait
for a boy who was eight
That would be great, when I hit 58.
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