How could I possibly ever tell him I love him?
Tonight I've been reflecting once again on the fact that I do not have two parts including myself, I have four. (At least. I don't think there are more, but I don't want to make any assumptions.) Only two of them are actually me: little Jaime, who holds the trauma; and big Jaime, the front, the "tower." The other two are people I've absorbed: my mother, who holds self-compassion; and my father, who holds denial, and is the trauma.
And I don't know why I never really took the time to think too much about it, but tonight it hit me like a ton of bricks:
The trauma itself is a part. My dad is a part. I have literally let my abuser get into my head.
Not that I really blame myself. I'm sure that happens to all of us to some extent. Just part of the process. But I'm moreso concerned for the implications.
Every part is innocent and blameless, right? None of it was ever their fault, right? They just did what they had to do, what they were forced to do. They're not in that place anymore. They're home now. They're safe now. They're loved now.
How the hell am I supposed to extend that compassion to him?
First of all, he's not like little Jaime. He's not some frightened child in need of rescue. He's older than me. Bigger than me. Taller than me. Stronger than me.
Also, he has power over me. Not the other way around. And he didn't grow naturally to protect me from something I couldn't cope with. He grew so he could represent the thing I couldn't cope with. He is artificial. He was injected. He's an invader. He's the thing I see in my closet, the thing I see at the foot of my bed in the middle of the night, the thing I'm afraid will suddenly come in whenever I get that weird feeling of dread I get when I stare at a door a little too long. I don't know what's scarier, an open door because he can just come in, or a closed door because I think any second he's going to open it. He's the part of me that revictimizes me. He's the part of me that feels about me the awful, exploitative way my real dad felt about me, feels that same fetishized hatred, now in context become self-loathing. He's the part that comes after me in the nightmares and flashbacks and steals away my innocence over and over again.
I feel similarly about him to how I have unfortunately made little Jaime feel about me: the thought of reparenting him makes me want to puke. If he ever needs my love and protection, he knows perfectly well he can just steal it from me with physical force. Like he always does.
Do I maybe have to get him to reparent me from inside? Is that how I can maybe heal him? By somehow willing him to stop seeing a sex object when he looks at me and start seeing his actual fucking daughter for once? Is it that in order to heal him, I'm the part who has to come to feel safe and loved? Because that's a long way off. That's like, the end goal here.
Well. If he is the trauma itself, I guess it actually makes perfect sense that reintegrating him would equate to healing completely. He will necessarily be the last part to heal.
Even so... ugh... I do not like being reminded he's in there. That I'm going to have to... deal with him eventually.
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