Trauma Recovery: A Brand New Day
- davikath8
- 1 day ago
- 2 min read
I suppose being neglected and abused has given me some advantages.
Quick perceptions. Acute characterizations.
I see you before you see yourself, if you ever see yourself.
There are lines that shouldn’t be crossed. I’ve witnessed so many people crossing so many lines, it no longer shocks me. My body registers trespass. My mind plots escape.
I may not have anything new, any wondrous or enduring connections to pull me into the future, but at this moment, as my 56th birthday and my 40th anniversary of bone marrow transplant intersect, I have closure.
The knots that have tied me for the last several years have been undone.
Trauma recovery. A brand new day.
Goodbye to the liars, the bullies, the bastards, the frigid maidens, the mechanical sadists.
Goodbye to the human drones, the pedants, the bureaucrats, the control freaks.
No, I haven’t found many of “my type” of people, but I have found a few, those who create and connect and find many things laughable and ludicrous, and who rise above their circumstances to think, to feel, and to be.
They are out there, too often obscured by the breed of people driven to violence by their own insecurities and inadequacies.
I feel like grabbing the hand of Diana Ross and singing with her, “Ease On Down the Road,” from The Wiz. I feel like rejoicing with the dancers of Louis Johnson’s extraordinary Liberation Ballet in the 1978 film to the tune of Luther Vandross’ “A Brand New Day.”
Lacking their talent only makes me appreciate them more.
I banish the shadows of the past and put on my dancing shoes.
The road ahead may not be easy, but I shall enjoy the bricks as pure as gold.
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