Shadowed Soul (27 page)

“I’m not trying to make excuses, I write this because there are no excuses, not really, but I have never really been good at showing my emotions. Ever since I was a little girl I found myself withdrawing from people and there are reasons for that.  But in my attempt to protect you from the worst of my nature I think I made your life hard, much harder than it should have been.  When your father left I knew that he had gone, in part, because of the way that I was and I was so terrified that I would lose you that I ended up pushing you away. I have so wanted to find a way to make you understand that everything that I did was fueled by love and affection.  But the sad thing about human beings is that sometimes the people who most need to be able to show love just don't know how. I have never really been able to show affection to anyone.  That ability was ripped away from me when I was seven and never came back.

“You never knew your grandfather and there was a very good reason for that, he was and may God forgive me for writing this down, a terrible man.  More than that, he was an evil man and I would not allow him to destroy your childhood in the same way that he had destroyed mine. He was a man of terrifying appetites and he took pleasure in me in ways that no adult ever should with a child and especially a father to a daughter. For a long time I was so confused by the idea of love as I always associated it with fear and pain.  I wanted to protect you in any way that I could but I just did not have the courage or knowledge of how to do that without messing your head up. I am so, so sorry my darling boy.  It's ironic that in my efforts to insure that you suffered no abuse in life that you ended up being abused in a completely different way, possibly a worse way than me because even at the darkest of times with my father I knew that my mother loved me. For seven years that monster of a man did whatever he wanted to me whenever he wanted.  I was terrified all of the time and then when I grew too old for him he started on my brother and I let it happen. Perhaps monsters breed monsters?  I never did anything to help my brother because I was so relieved that I had been given respite, and I feared if I protected my brother, then my father’s attention would return to me.

“I think that's why I found it so difficult to be a mother to you, Thomas, because you reminded me of my brother so much, the way your hair fell, the way you smiled and the way you laughed.  It was almost as though he was in the room, that innocent little boy that I sent to the wolves. There were times, Thomas, and maybe I'm only writing this down because I know that you will never read this, but there were times when I could barely look at you because of the guilt that coursed through me. I so much wanted to hug you and hold you and show you how much you meant to me but all I could see was my brother’s face and with that came the knowledge of what I had done, or what I hadn't done. As I said, this is not an excuse.  I'm not trying to find forgiveness.  I just want to try and explain that I know how weak and terrible I was as a mother but it was not deliberate and it was not done lightly. I remember the day that you brought me a little gift, I don't know if you will remember it? It was a woman walking her dog and holding her hat on her head.  I was so touched that you had gone to that trouble and angry because you had walked in the cold. I remember seeing the hurt in your eyes as I didn't open the gift when you gave it to me but the truth was I couldn't because I didn't want you to see me cry. I wanted to be strong for you and I didn't want to appear distant and uninvolved.  The horrible thing was that the longer this went on the harder it was for me to break away from that way of behaving.  I remember so well how upset and sad you were when your father left, I remember that you would see me in tears and that would make you even sadder.  All I wanted to do was to protect you, Thomas, that's all I ever wanted to do.

“One day, I hope to find the courage to make things right or at least make them a little better because I know it's too late to make everything right.  When you come to my house I so want to open up but all I see in your eyes is strength and resolve and while that may be directed towards disliking or hating me I find it impossible to take that away from you. I so want to hug you and hold you and tell you how much I love you but I think, I worry if I do that then your strength will either dissolve or all harden and push me away. I am not a strong person, Thomas, I never have been because your grandfather left me with a terrible sense of self-loathing, I have never found anything about myself to like throughout my entire adult life apart from you and even with that I have sabotaged myself so much. Depression is a terrible thing to bear and I have done so for so very long and I am so tired of it all. It was these dark moods that chased your father away and it was this depression that pretty much made me stop you seeing him.  That, and he had his own issues after the war.  We tried once, I don't know if you remember, but once on Sunday after church we went to his new apartment.  At first you were all excited when you saw the shiny, red door out front.  But then, we got inside the entry way and you started screaming and shouting so much that I had to take you straight back to the bus and we came home. You never did want to see him for the next year or so and after that it became easier not to ask you.  In truth, it was selfish motivations on my part that made me not ask you because I was terrified that if you met him and spent time with him that you would eventually drift away from my life and into his house.  Every year he would send cards and gifts on your birthday and Christmas and every year I destroyed the gifts and put them out in the trash. God forgive me but I have done so many terrible things and even though I have known that they were wrong I have never really been able to stop myself. In the end, your father just gave up because I had managed to convince him that you wanted nothing to do with him, and as you grew older I swore to myself that I would tell you where he was but I could never find the strength. My fear of loneliness made me lonelier than I ever thought possible.

“I think he’s still there in the same apartment.  I haven't heard from him in a number of years but he would have let me know if he had moved just in case you ever wanted to speak to him.  I'm not quite sure why but I always kept your father’s cards he sent for you, again my depression sometimes makes me do things that I have no real understanding of.  To me it seemed that the gifts and toys were just plastic objects, plastic
sheet
as old Jake used to call them, remember?  They were just junk that meant nothing but I could never bring myself to destroy anything your father had written in his own hand because that was a real connection, something tangible between him and you and even though I never gave you the cards I always knew they were there and maybe when I died that you would get to see them and find something like forgiveness for your father. He is not a bad man but he has his own flaws, war does terrible things to people, and in the end he was not strong enough to cope with my issues also. He always wanted you to go with him but I would never have allowed that because even though he never showed any sign of being like my father I simply never trusted men. I remember so well when I found that you had been looking at pornography, I was so angry and scared that maybe you would end up like your grandfather.  It was a ridiculously insane idea because every young man is drawn to sex and I know that.  But I have never been able to see sex as anything but filthy and wrong because my experiences as a little girl were a nightmare. When you left that night I truly understood that I had chased you away and I have never cried so many tears.

“I know that this is all nothing more than words, and they won't mean an awful lot to you because I have never given you the chance to understand who I am. I have always loved you, Thomas, and always will.  My biggest regret is the fact that I think, I know that I lost you so many years ago and now I'm missing everything about your life.  I’m sorry about our Christmas visit ending badly.  I do love your curious Christmas gift. 
I probably won't be placing them next to the windy day statue on the mantle, darling, but because they're from you, I shall cherish them forever. 
Most of all, I love you, Thomas.

“My deepest love always,

“Mom”

              “So that’s where the other robin’s egg blue box ended up,” I said aloud, in shock, not intending for Sophie to hear it.

“What do you suppose the significance is of
that
, Thomas?” asked Sophie twizzling her pen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The letter resonated through me.  I stopped counting how many times I reread the damned thing.  My emotional responses had not been what I would have expected.  Part of me wanted to hate her even more for denying me the existence of my father.  Yet another part of me had never felt so much love for her.  I only wished that she had somehow found the courage in her to tell me when she had been alive and to let me know that she had not hated me.  I could understand her being screwed up.  How could I do anything other than have empathy for her?  But I had spent so long feeling lost from my biological family that now that I knew that my father had tried to keep in touch and that she had loved me I felt a strange mix of sadness and relief.  I had not felt able to look at the bundle of cards that had lain smoldering inside the shoe box for decades.  My father had been gone from my life for such a long time that the knowledge he might still be nearby was almost too much to comprehend.  I might have passed him on the street or sat next to him on public transportation without knowing.  I also had not looked at his return address on the birthday cards, but I knew, deep within my psyche, I knew exactly where he lived.

The nightmare persisted.  I found myself on the same street every night and I now knew exactly what the objects on either side of the hat wearing man were, even before he removed the sheets covering them I knew that on his right side was Sophie and on his left side was Beth, I knew that they were both bound and gagged and helpless to stop me or save me.  I also knew what this imagery meant, or at least I thought I did.

“So, what do you think that having me and your wife on either side of this individual means?” asked Sophie, not appearing the least bit discomfited.

“Well, I think that you represent different parts of my brain,” I attempted.  “I would assume that you represent the logical part of me and Beth represents the emotional side of me?” Sophie nodded for a moment.

“Seems reasonable, as theories go.”  She paused and looked at me for a moment. “Why do you think that we are both bound and gagged, Thomas?  If we both represent a distinct part of your brain.  Emotional.  Logical.” I feared Sophie was about to eject me from her office and refuse to see me again.

“I don’t think it’s sexual!” I replied hastily. “I mean, I know I was addicted to bondage pornography but it’s never been sexual.  So you being tied up and helpless in my dream, it’s not, it’s not sexual!”  I was genuinely comfortable in Sophie’s company and I felt I had made more progress with her than at any point of my life. I did not want to lose that.

“I know it’s not sexual, Thomas,” said Sophie reassuringly. “There are no sexual overtones in the imagery that you’ve described.  Both Beth and I are dressed in a non-provocative manner and we represent hostages not sexual conquests.  I just wonder if you have any insight into why that might be.”

“Well, this might sound dumb, Sophie…”

“Risk it,” she said with a gentle smile.

“I think that maybe the fact that you’re both kneeling and helpless sort of means that I feel that I’m helpless, emotionally helpless and intellectually helpless.  I mean, it’s as though both of you could give me advice in the dream if you were able to but you can’t.”  Sophie smiled and nodded at my self-analysis.

“I think that might be the case, Thomas,” replied Sophie.

“So, what do you think that advice would be?” I asked.

“I’m not really the person who is tied up in your dream, Thomas.  You are.  I’m not even sure what the dream is about.  I mean, this hat-wearing man who has kidnapped us.  Who do you think he is?  Who might he represent?”

“My father?” I asked.

“Maybe...”  Sophie nodded in a peculiarly non-committal way and I knew that she had seen through what was in fact a lie on my part.

“Okay, he represents my Shadowed Soul,” I blurted.  “And I suppose by default that he represents me, or at least my depression.”

“That seems likely, Thomas.  Why is your depression stopping you from listening to your own advice though?  Or, in the imagery,
gagging
your logic and your emotions.”

“Because he doesn’t want to go?”

“Go where?” Sophie persisted.

“Away?  He doesn’t want me to beat him?”  I looked at Sophie for a clue.

“Do you want to beat him, Thomas?” she asked in a blunt tone and as I looked at her I saw a mild look of challenge in her eyes.  It was not an unpleasant or particularly aggressive expression but there was an undeniable air of authority about her. “I don’t mean this in a bad way, Thomas, but do you maybe think that the length of time that you’ve been living with the depression has made it a familiar habit that is almost impossible to conceive living without?”

“No, that’s not true,” I replied quickly without conviction. I had felt abandoned by my family and through the years many of my friends had drifted away.  The Shadowed Soul had been the one constant that had followed me throughout my life.  The prospect that one day he might truly leave me too was a frightening possibility.  Without my depression who would I be?  Would my personality be amputated?  Sophie seemed to sense my confusion and she smiled easily and when she spoke again her voice was mellow and warm.

“Do you want a harsh truth, Thomas?”  I nodded and she sat forward, gazing into my soul. “The chances that you will ever be truly free of your depression are minimal.  There are options that can be used to control it but the unfair truth is that it will always be there.  However, that’s the harsh truth.  The broader truth is your depression is only one aspect of you.  You have many, many other aspects.  And millions upon millions of people suffer from depression and with guidance and strength it is possible to dilute it to a point where it is not as debilitating.”