“A time for war, and a time for peace”. That’s always been my favorite line of this well known quote, hence the tittle of my page. And it’s probably because I’ve spent most of my life in search of it. Peace.
But what if war is all you’ve ever known? What if the core of who you are was built on survival, and how worthy you could make yourself? What then, happens to you when you finally find that peace? Who are you then? What do you do with the instincts for survival, when they are not needed? How do you turn that part of yourself off, and settle into the comforts of true peace?
I’m 42 years old, happier, and more at peace than I’ve been in my entire life. Yet my body can’t seem to accept that. I still spend a lot of days feeling like I’m missing something. Like the other shoe is hanging over my head and will surely drop at some point. Like I am too at ease, so that must mean I’m failing at something. Something is coming. Something bad is going to happen. It can’t be this good. My entire life, peace has always come at a price. And my instincts tell me I need to be ready to pay it. To protect myself in the transaction.
There was always chaos waiting in the wind. If there was peace when I was young, it was because my mom was having a “good day”, or I got the chance to get away. Maybe I got to go and visit with family, be away from the man that tormented me when mom went to work. Or perhaps it was the happier times in our life. When she left my tormenter and met the man that I grew to call dad. Maybe mom was just her version of happy for the day, and that meant everyone could breathe a little easier for a bit. But that also meant the storm was coming. It was brewing, and I was just waiting for the clouds to turn the sky dark again.
Sometimes I found peace while hiding in my closet losing myself in a book. Transporting to a different world for a moment. But that was the trick, it was a moment. Always a fleeting one. Because chaos inevitably found me again. No matter where I hid or how I tried to forget. No matter what door I locked. It slithered in under it and curled up in the corner. Like a snake waiting to strike. Always there. Always watching me. Waiting for me to get too comfortable, to drop my guard. Waiting for me to think I was safe.
When I became an adult and embarked on the journey of love and marriage, if I was at peace in those relationships, it was because I was blissfully ignorant. Or actively refusing to acknowledge what my mind was screaming at me. Convincing myself that the abuse was normal. The lies, the harsh words, the lack of affection, that is just what real marriage was.
That was easy to do, because that is what I had been conditioned for my entire life. Love WAS chaos. It was pain. It was lies. It was screaming and yelling. It was hurting you one minute, and pretending they didn’t the next. It was accusations. It was loud. It was having stake outs at my dad’s job with mom so we could see that he was cheating on her. So she could prove to us that he was just like all the other men and he didn’t love us. So she could show us why men can’t ever be trusted. It was being tormented by people who were supposed to love you. It was being forced to face terrifying situations before my mind was capable of understanding them.
Love was earned and could be stripped away without warning. It was silent treatment for days. It was laying in bed at night wondering what was wrong with you and why you couldn’t just be better so people would treat you better. It was growing up never feeling worthy. Wondering why your father didn’t want you. Why it felt like your mother didn’t like you. Asking yourself what you did to make so many people leave you and hurt you. Love was there one minute, and gone the next. It was conditional.
Until now. Nothing about my life is like it used to be. Nothing about the love I have now is the same. I live a truly beautiful and peaceful life. I’m married to an amazing man. One who loves me unconditionally. He loves me on my best days, and my worst. He wants to make every dream I have a reality. I have a great job. I get to work from home and be here with my son all day. I have kids that are flourishing. One who is about to embark on her own adult journey and move out, and one who is blossoming into his own amazing personality. I have two loyal pups, and one crazy cat. A beautiful home. Time to relax if I want. Time to read and write and lay in my back yard in the sun on a swing my husband hung just where I asked him to.
And my mind still prepares for war. Not every day. Not in every moment. But sometimes in the quiet ones.
That little girl in the closet peeks her head out, trying to see if it’s really safe. Is the snake still waiting in the corner. She still feels the need to be quiet. To stay small. To protect herself for what always inevitably comes. She tells me it can’t be real. That peace always comes at a price. There must be something coming. I need to stay aware. Not get too comfortable. My husband could wake up one day and just decide to leave me. Or maybe something terrible could happen to him and I wouldn’t have his love anymore. I would be all alone in this world again. Something devastating could happen to one of my children. I could lose my job. She tells me that it’s impossible for me to have this life, and not pay a price for it. She says I need to stay sharp. Keep the house clean. Be the best at everything, while also laying low. Don’t draw too much attention, but also don’t be too dormant. Find the perfect balance to earn this life I have, but always remember it can be taken away.
I try like hell every day to convince her to come out of the closet. To coax her into the peace this life is offering us now. To show her it is real. And some days I do. I talk her into the light. Those are the days I breathe a little easier, smile quicker, laugh more at my husband’s silly jokes, and my heart is lighter.
On those days we can be found lying in the sun, or on the swing reading our favorite book. Maybe curled up on my husband chest watching our favorite show, or laughing at my son’s witty fast paced humor.
I pull her around by the hand, showing her, “See, it’s real. We are loved. Truly. Without conditions. We are safe. We are happy”. And she believes me in those moments. Sometimes I can convince her to stay out longer. Months at a time even. To be in this life with me. To see the beauty of all we’ve been given and walk with me in it. But eventually, she runs back into her closet. Where it’s safe. Where it is dark. Where it is constant. Because that is all she has ever known. This new life is foreign to her. She doesn’t truly know how to exist in it. It feels intense, and it scares her. The thought of leaving the dark and seeing things in the light is terrifying. What if they are as bad as they have always seemed. So I constantly remind her “but what if they are as beautiful as you always hoped. What if life is everything you always dreamed it could be. You don’t want to miss it while hiding in the closet do you!?”
I hope one day, she will come out, and never go back in. She will trust me when I tell her she doesn’t need the closet anymore. She doesn’t have to be small, or perfect. She can just BE. Until I can convince her though, I will keep visiting her. Keep carrying the weight of her fear. Taking her with me when she will let me. Some days she is heavy. So heavy it feels like I can’t take a deep breath. But I can’t leave her alone like everyone else did. I can’t let her think something is wrong with her because she is scared. I just have to keep showing her why she doesn’t need to be anymore. Until THAT is her reality, until THAT is what her body will believe. Until PEACE is what she knows she deserves and it settles in her soul.
A Time For Peace 