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The Sifter

Sometimes I wish there was a sifting device for my brain. Something that would catch all of the clumps of the fears and insecurities that were formed from my abuse. I wish I could assure my current partner that these clumps will never fall through. That he will never have to experience my panic attacks, my nightmares, and the times my brain goes into fight or flight. Granted, these experiences occur much less frequently now, but they will forever reside within me. 

It’s an indescribable feeling. When that part of my brain takes over. It has nothing to do with what my current partner did or didn’t do. He’s my refuge. My safe haven. I’ll even go as far as to say I believe we were made for each other. He fills my voids with love, support, and overwhelming joy. What we have is healthy. Good. Genuine. 

Yet, even with a rock-solid foundation, I still can’t kick the traumas of the past. Sometimes they come rushing in like a tsunami, swallowing me whole. It only lasts a few hours now as opposed to weeks or even months, but I wish it never happened at all. It’s frustrating that a man who has only ever contributed to enhancing my happiness has to help me pick up the pieces from the man who almost destroyed me. But he does. He sits with me until the storm passes, never once complaining. I’m beyond blessed to have a man like him. A real man. A man other men should strive to be like. 

As I sit here writing this, maybe it’s not a bad thing that the clumps sometimes fall through. Each time one does is an opportunity for us to rewire my brain together. Each time I struggle and he turns toward me instead of away – each time he fills me with love instead of guilt – he shows my brain and my heart how I’m supposed to be loved. And I love him more for it. Maybe I don’t need a sifter. Maybe all I’ve needed to get rid of the clumps was for someone to love me, not in spite of them, but because I’m worth loving. Someone whose love I can feel when he touches me. When he looks at me. When he talks to me. Maybe his love is the only sifter I’ve needed all along. 

Photo: Flickr – Chris Marchant

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