It came to me in a dream. It was at the climax of the worst, darkest, most horrifying time of my life. He was a sociopath. He was narcissistic. He was emotionally, verbally and, most detrimentally, physically abusive.
I was in the most surreal moments some of those days; I'd look at myself from outside and say, "How the hell did you, Ann, get stuck in this situation? You are smart. You are strong. You are resourceful. Why! Why-oh-why do you let yourself remain entangled in this most awful of situations??!"
Here's why. He was enigmatic. He was charismatic. He was magnetic. He was a demon. He would expire one full breath berating me, telling me I was a most awful performer at work, embarrass me in front of dozens of people, exhaust so much energy pointing out what a messed up failure I was.
And in the next inspiration and refreshing of his lungs, tell me how talented I was and what an amazing vision he had for both of us, and that -just maybe, if I really tried harder- I could do better and help him succeed and not be the liability I had been in the past.
It was absolutely the most perverse, sick, disgusting merry-go-round a person could ever imagine existing. And it wasn't the movies. It was my reality.
It was textbook domestic violence. And he was my employer. My seducer. My abuser. The shame and scourge of my life.
I had angels tho. 2 women had survived him before me. They began intervention. I wanted to escape; I felt like I was tethered to him like the strongest of bungee cords. I'd try to run away only to be woo'd and lured back. It was a sick, sick cycle.
They were my lifeline. They were the thinnest of threads holding me to hope of escape. I got an Order of Protection, not from him, but for me...to keep the door to him sealed strongly shut. It worked, but barely. They worked with me, talked to me, supported me. They checked in constantly while I went through the withdrawals of his influence on my life. The lunacy of it still baffles me today. Unless you walk in the shoes of a victim, you cannot understand.
Then, the dream.
This was my true gift from God to help me begin to heal.
She was a tiny, young, innocent hummingbird. The most brilliant of emerald green shone off her feathers as she hovered, darted, flitted about. I observed her in her obliviousness and looked around and beyond her. The room was a greenhouse - perfectly square and bright with pure light coming in from the opaque glass. The ceiling rose to a symmetrical peak, the lower windows covered by lace curtains. They moved slightly from an unseen breeze, telling me the windows beyond were open, open to the outside. Open to the beyond...
She hovered here and there, shining as she moved, the tiniest, most fragile of creatures. She didn't know she was little; her heart was huge, and strong. Beneath her, covering the entire floor of the room was the thickest carpet of red red flowers. Begonias maybe? Martha Washington comes to my mind; but I cannot see any green for the intensity of the blooms. They were so thick and dense, nothing could be seen beneath them, perfectly grown in depth and breadth, their tops looked manicured, they were so perfectly even. And thick. Impenetrable to the earth below.
But I knew. I knew at the base of these blossoms was death. Thorns and slugs and putridity were the reality beneath the beauty above. Darkness and stench so thick, nothing could survive down there. Nothing but death existed.
And I worried fiercely for the hummingbird. She was oblivious. She was curious about the blooms, drawn to their intensity because she didn't have the gift of age or experience to warn her otherwise. I watched her contemplate the blooms, she hovered quietly, moving over the blossoms in her consideration. I sent her mental pictures of the death beneath, of the stench and life-sucking horror that lurked under the blossoms. She was oblivious, only caught up in her own focus on the beauty.
Then I noticed again, the movement of the curtains at the windows caught my eye. On the left and right sides of the rooms, the curtains swayed gently. I knew there was an escape for this wee bird, that her innocence can remain intact, that she could find true beauty outside this room of illusion, this room of death. I knew there were open windows just on the other side of the curtains; but they couldn't be seen, for the brightness of the room added to the blinding of the white white lace curtains. Only their movement indicated the world beyond as the breeze touched them.
I knew she knew tho. I could feel her as she moved from the blossoms to the fresh, sweet air from beyond the windows. The soft breeze touched her wings and ever so softly, brushed the smallest of her feathers into glistening ruffles.
Those 2 open windows, they were my 2 friends. I realized this almost immediately upon waking up from that dream. I knew they were my escape avenue away from the blackness that was sucking my life away. And I was that hummingbird. Young and naive from the release of an intense career, the release of a long, lifeless marriage, the release from an oppressive church.
I was that baby hummingbird, destined to live a life of joy, wonder, curiosity, exploration and fierce passion as I took on the headwinds and fought my way through the trials of branches and thickets that lay ahead of me. I became Flit. And I've remained, manifesting more of her every day of my life.
It's been a bit of a joke, and I love making word pictures of her and those she interacts with. But Flit is a survivor. She's tenacious and wonderful. She delights in the happiness of others. She can also poke fun with her pointy little beak with a mischievous glint in her eye. She's amused by the smallest of bits and bobbles, and she isn't ashamed of her innocence with life. She's true, and loyal to those around her. She has much love in her, and has much love to give. Take care of Flit, and she will always take care of you.
The picture behind this blog is a rendition of Flit, one I painted, inspired by a photo I saw somewhere in this vast internet space. She has been in dark times; and more dark times may come to her, but the sun remains, and she knows this. The darkness always passes. The sun always shines.
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