For decades, monthly, with onset of the fatigue of PMS breaking through an over-scheduled life, the image of a balding mohair teddy bear haunted me. The image leapt from God knows where. Blood streamed from the teddy bear. I never could entirely block the sight out from the backscape of my mind.
I knew it was my true self-image, not withstanding a respectable CV and lost of accomplishments.
The teddy bear’s appearance coincided with an unbearable black pain. I begged my then-boyfriend to help me stop the pain. Month after month.
It was okay. The boyfriend knew about the abuse. He sort of understood.
I learned the origin of the teddy bear flashback when I was 39. It crushed me for two weeks. The intense desire to have the pain end does at times return.
But no longer does the blood-red teddy bear haunt.
I stand in limbo. I hoped to end contact with siblings from the days of torture upon my parents’ death. But it seems there is a disputed trust that ties me to them at least another year.
I just want the connections and reminders to end.