I like to question mostly everything. It’s part of who I am and it developed as a coping mechanism from not understanding what was happening to me when I was a child. Questioning helped me see my childhood abuse for what it was. A madness that I could not accept. Why ? was constantly rolling about in my head. I couldn’t do anything about this question, but at least I could ask it to myself. And I did over and over. It developed into a way of being able to challenge my reality. It gave me some kind of control to ask why. I didn’t have to just accept my situation inside of my own mind. As long as I could do this I felt some kind of autonomy, something I could cling to , because there wasn’t another outlet external to myself. I had to find ways to survive that came from inside me, so questioning to myself became a habit. I carried on doing it and it became how I lived in the world. It’s curiosity essentially, a quality all children possess. If I had not remained curious, looking for answers to difficult situations, for some of which there are none, would I have been able to survive and recover the way I have ? I don’t think so. A question is open ended, there is a way out, at least that’s how it felt to me, so asking why, how, what for, kept me motivated, kept me going to attempt to look within to the damage caused and to accept the external situation that created the damage. When I was engaged in EMDR therapy the very nature of the process was to question what do I notice from within ? It was part exploration and revelation rolled into one. The wondering kept me going back to therapy to look, the more I discovered, the more free I became.
Often now I can look back and see myself as another person who had an identity within a family. A daughter, a sister, a cousin, a niece, a granddaughter. When I had to leave my family, when I finally confronted the whole truth, it was the end of a process of asking a million questions to myself, of who this family was. To get away from their control and abuse, I had to ask difficult questions, I had to accept the glaringly obvious answers, to sit with those for a while. When the truth comes home it needs quiet time. It needs holding and nurturing as it dawns and sinks in. One of the questions I ask now, and it’s a feeling; who was that person ? That was me before I got free. I questioned my way to that point. I never accepted blindly that was my lot. My curiosity fuelled the desire to become free. So, I thank the curious, wondering child I was and still am. We keep exploring and asking what parts of us are still stuck ? What can we bring out of ourselves to help others ? How can we share the hope and freedom we have fought so hard for ? Asking questions also helps me find meaning and that meaning seems to be about love, compassion and shared experience.