I sensed the secret you carry. Blaming my physical unrest on food, the two drinks, my sunburn. Your frantic energy, palpable. The fox that showed up, running by making himself seen. Then the snake. Spirit commanding my attention by sending in the wild beasts. Illuminating that which lurks under beautiful smiles. I see it all. Like an Eagle.

The building tension you carry – feeling it in my own neck. Overwhelming. I can take on your energy, at will – as a way of knowing. Then, right before me slowly coming clearer, unfolding with certainty. With sadness. With accuracy. Suddenly I’m doing it. Putting together the clues of your broken childhood. Betrayal by betrayal. All of it.

I can sniff it out. This info comes with a high price – a sudden physical overwhelm, unease. As I realize the reason for your blankness, your habitual guarding, the distance you keep, your refusal to take part in activities, meals, refusal to leave the house, engage. It suddenly makes perfect sense. This protest. This fuck you.

When I witness your many refusals. Reluctance to greet your brother. Opting out of family “time”. The way your mother has to force you to acknowledge your brother. She physically assists you in hugging him. The nervous laughter. I knew. I knew. I could see all that is hidden. Under plastic smiles.

It hit me hard. So blatant. So powerful. This explains so much. I know things. I know shit people would never want me to know. Why do I know? What is the purpose dear God. Please tell me. Don’t be stupid, it’s obvious why I know. I was was this girl, I am this.

Can I actually help? Can I help? How can I? It’s actually torturous to be privy to such delicate, guarded info. I want to help. I want to give her the gift of validation. I want to blow this the fuck up. I want to slay the evil in the room. I want to save her sanity. Hide her in a warm safe place. Where her safety is paramount. But. My heart hurts so much right now.

But. I need to keep MY inner child safe. I need to protect HER. Put her first, reparent HER as this trigger swirls. I can do for her what was not done for me when I was young. I can keep myself centered and grounded and not swirl, also with the insanity of sexual abuse. I will never abandon my inner child to save someone else. THIS is the work. My work. Never jump in to save someone. Make every attempt from ground. From the shore. Have a plan. Process. Otherwise we are all lost in the deep darkness.

Do I say anything? Do I to hint that I know? I cannot expect that she will be receptive. She might deny. That’s not the point tho. She needs to know that whatever she says I will listen. Just open the door and get my healing foot in, or even a toe. Hell, a toenail.

God help me to use fox energy in my heart. Be stealthy, clever. Meet evil with light. It saddens me that she suffers in silence everyday. Everyone is dead around her. Everyone. I visualize ancient, petrified, headless bodies around me. No one to connect with, no one to feel, no one to love. Reach all you want. They’re unavailable. Dead. Tragically familiar. Having to partially die myself just to survive.

Guide me. Use me for her support -either physically or energetically. Please let me be there, as a comfort. As a confidante. The sounding board and voice of reason that I did not have. The safe one. The receptive heart. If she’ll let me in to her closely guarded, sensitive heart. If

My tears and grief are real, solid and visionary. Don’t mess with my fucking intuition. I see through. I see the real. I see your dark, that which you wish to hide. I see your shame. I see your self loathing. Your having to act out to have everyone leave you alone. Throw an emotional fit just to get someone to pay attention.

I know this. Some part of her wants me to see. Is willing. Needs this. Will I be met with that part or an imposter? No way to tell. How much will be receptive? How much will fight, run or collapse and be transparent? It’s frightening to be seen, really seen. Exposed. I got you.

No one knows I can see. No one. I am often met with denial. It’s natural/habitual. I know and sense too much. I have an enormous responsibility with this gift (jury still out on the “gift” term). Heavy burden in my hands being privy to such weighty information. I’d ask Spirit WHY, but the answer is ridiculously obvious. Enormous.

The sadness of the abused children. All shutting down differently. Deadening themselves. you can see the disconnect. The terror in the eyes. Can feel the crazy, swirling, frozen, ungrounded energy surrounding the family. Many kids, many families. Way too many.

We survivors can help. We can be what WE needed. And never could secure. It’s never too late to get what we came for. To give what we couldn’t get. It’s never too late to offer our wisdom, our hearts, our safety. Our love and understanding. It’s never too late. To go out on that branch, trusting it will hold you. Eagle medicine abounds.