For goodness sake, all I wanted to do was put soap and water on my body and a childhood fear had resurfaces. I knew that as long as I couldn’t bring myself to strike those damn matches, I would have to live with the smell coming from my body. Okay flash forward. I had a few options. I could take a cold shower, light the damn matches, or call someone. I chose the latter. I sat in the horrid stench of my armpits and waited until my handy man hero lit my fire. Isn’t it funny how you think you are over events that happened years ago and then one single event reminds you that you aren’t? It might seem ridiculous to you that I’m afraid of matches. I think maybe the matches gave me the freedom an excuse if you will that allowed me to be afraid. The books are gone, my childhood is gone, and my brother who took his life is gone. Maybe lighting the matches would signal that even after 11 years my only brother really is gone. By lighting the matches I could admit that I was angry at my brother for causing that fire that destroyed my books and a piece of my childhood. I wasn’t ready to do that. Strongholds can easily be built in our subconscious, but they must be demolished so that healing can take place.
None of me is free until all of me is free.