Soul-killing.

I described it like a hole in my soul. Someone else said it was soul-killing, and I liked that word. Certain past life experiences leave such deep wounds on your being that you almost feel a part of your soul is missing. And though you try to get it back with all your might, it seems impossible.

It feels great when you are given new pieces of the puzzle to keep building the picture of a past life. It feels like recovering something that was long lost, something that maybe you willingly left behind, ready to start a new chapter, but now you want it back, with all the emotions, all the people you loved, the good and bad things. However, in many cases, you realize there is something you can’t recover, it got destroyed along the way, because some experiences change you and you are no longer the same. It’s like wanting to recover the innocence of childhood.

Yesterday night I meditated. Painful prison scenes turned up. This morning, in a state between wake and sleep, I got plenty of emotions and scenes of one of my hangings, from the moment they took me out of the cell until the very end. Right now I’m still between the past and the present, those images still hanging around in the back of my mind. So much fear and rage, so much shame, so much injustice. I didn’t want to die, I didn’t deserve to die, at least no more than those men. But no one seems to care about what they did. They think I’m a monster. But certainly, I’m not the only monstrous thing to walk on Earth.

Suddenly I realized how different I was then, compared to the way I was only a few years before, when I could hold my baby girl for the first time and caress her tiny fingers with mine. That was after the nightmare of my first marriage, but still there was some love in me. I thought “He destroyed me”. I think I heard my guide whisper: “Not exactly”. I know, though it’s hard to admit. There’s a dark period of time still too blurred, when more awful things must have happened, when I completely lost it. I destroyed myself. It seems I do it quite often in my past lives. Maybe once you’ve got that hole in your soul it’s all a matter of going with the flow. They wronged you, now let’s wrong the world. You started the soul-killing, let’s finish off what you started. Who cares? It’s easier to find excuses and wallow in misery than fight. Maybe I should have taken my baby and run, run faraway, where no one would follow. Abandoning her (even in my sister’s arms) really broke my heart. Another hole in my soul that keeps bleeding, but this time self-inflicted.

And people were so blind.

They only saw a monster, where there was a mistreated woman, beaten and humiliated. A woman who almost killed herself in a bathtub. A mother without a father for her baby, a baby that grew up alone. A woman who had no place in the world anymore. But the time for me to speak was over, as I killed that young, innocent and dreamy lady as well. Now I was just a vengeful woman who knew of other women like her, and thought some crimes shouldn’t go unpunished.

But justice caught her. Caught me.