Thread by Thread

There is a black hole inside of me - an emptiness that can never be filled. This is the gaping hole left by my need for emotional connection that was not met by my parents as an infant, a child, an adolescent, an adult. This is a hole I refused to acknowledge, refused to admit was there; a hole I covered over with "I don't need anyone" and "I don't feel anything," covered over with numbing and overachieving, covered over with denial and judgment. I could not acknowledge this hole because its very existence would prove that I was unworthy of love. After all, if I hadn't received what I needed as a child, there must be something wrong with me. Children who do not receive the love and affection they need blame themselves as unlovable and unworthy, rather than understanding the caregivers they adore as imperfect and flawed. This is my story, this may be your story, this is the story of so many.

Drawing by Kalil, CC BY-NC-SA

I love my parents and they love me, and this black hole exists. They loved their parents, who also loved them, and this black hole exists in them as well. This black hole of disconnection from emotion, self-protection from genocide, from pogroms, from war and poverty and oppression. As I witness this pain, I feel it's impact and mourn the many losses it has caused in my life and in my family. I also confront the way this pain oozes out onto others, onto those I love most. This sense of rejection I carry with me creates a self-protective barrier to connection. I have a reflexive tendency to pre-reject others, to avoid the possibility of being rejected myself. This unconscious closing off is a tool to prevent further damage, which feels like it could be fatal to this tender and exposed heart.

And yet, gradually this is shifting, changing, opening up. This blog was a major shift - a revealing of my soul and a reaching out for connection with friends and acquaintances. Through this and other means, I have begun to weave a strong web of connection and love, creating a fabric over this black hole, a fabric that grows sturdier every day. Each strand of connection, each experience of vulnerability met with compassion, each need I express that's met with care creates a new thread, a thicker strand to weave into this fabric, mending the hold in my heart. This black hole with always be there, a consequence of childhood lack that can never be filled, but eventually this fabric of connection and acceptance and love will be woven over it completely. For now, the edges have a soft and thick fabric around them, and the center is still fully exposed. Travelers on this road to my heart may still fall into this uncovered depth of pain, but the road becomes safer every day. The strands reaching out from my heart, the threads that allow me to connect proactively with others, grow longer every day. Today I accept the limitations of where I'm at and the size of the hole, and enjoy feeling each thread being woven by many hands into a resilient fabric of love. Thank you for contributing a piece of that thread - and for allowing me to reach out and weave some of my love over the holes in your heart as well.

Drawing by Kalil, CC BY-NC-SA