He's exactly where I left him
I'm moving back in with my mom next week in order to save for my move to the UK. Not sure how much I want to divulge publicly, but it's a really unhealthy environment that caused me a lot of trauma when I was younger. (I'm not in danger and my mother is not abusive, to be clear).
When I finally moved out I never intended to come back. But life happens. I need to pay down debt and straighten out my finances and build my savings back up and sort things in the UK. Despite my unique situation, I can't help but feel like I've failed somehow. I suppose I never expected I would marry a non-American and become an expat, though. Those are definitely some extenuating circumstances.
I've been thinking a lot about my younger self. All those same feelings are coming back up. I thought I wouldn't have to face them ever again.
I guess I'm old enough now that I can take care of myself in a way I couldn't before. I think I might try to do some sort of mental exercise, like having a conversation with this traumatized part of me. I think he needs to be heard.
Now that I think about it, I'm not sure if I ever really healed from my childhood. I thought I did. But I just left it all behind. That is, I left him behind; he's exactly where I left him years ago.
More than anything, I think that's what is most upsetting about all of this. Not returning to an dysfunctional home, but reuniting with the young boy who had to survive one.
He did so much to help me keep going before I could get away. It's my turn to help him now that I have to come back. And maybe that is something to be gained, if nothing else.