Sunday, December 25, 2011

Holiday With The Abuser

You can choose your dance.
How could there be a worse perpetual punishment? You are sentenced for life to spend every holiday from this day forward until you die with your abuser. The hammer thuds, wood hitting wood. Case closed! Next...

How does one come to terms with the diabotical extreme of two polar opposite emotions?

What could be the happiest of day, sweet memories, the gift of having friends and of knowing peace (this aim we celebrate, plan, await, and imagine) to be swallowed with the pain of abuse, the memory of horrors. The magical moments of innocent pleasure that pours from gratitude of relationships and material surprises entwined with paralyzing fear and anxious triggers of past trauma.

A squeal - the delight awakens us to a peek over the horizon of tomorrows knowing somehow they can be spent in love, happiness and peace.

But you are given the pill--filled with slivers broken innocence mixed with a hint of arsenic to deaden your memory and emotions. It must be swallowed if you enter the Act; Scene 1 is about to begin. The cast has gathered and all finding their places. The countdown as begun quickening the call to action... but you are not yet in place. Are you undecided?

Tremoring, you try, you are forcing the pill to be washed down with something a little more mind altering than spring water. It doesn't really matter if you remember, you just plan to go through the motions. Nothing more than the performance of a body-double will serve the purpose of the Holiday gathering.

How could you be asked, or expected to comply? For who? or What? or Why? (haven't you learned it is better to not ask so many questions, just move along ... step onto the moving walkway. The path will carry you into the next set. Play the part and move along... such a simple charade. 

Who owns you anyway? Who writes the screenplay that must be followed for the sake of world peace?

You have been warned. It is such a dramatic, critical role - no one else can fill-in. It just wouldn't be the same. You alone are called forth for the role of your lifetime that must be performed on-call year after year, holiday by holiday.

And the NEON LIGHTS FLASH ..... in the deep crevices of your soul. "CUT!" a loud cry shakes you partially awake from you stupor. And you remember,

You have a choice. You are not a robot. You have a mind, a will, a soul separated, living apart from being enmeshed with all others. There is no cosmic group will accountable to God. No one is allowed to play your puppet strings in life unless you walk out onto the set and submit to the part.

It is harder to think for yourself. So you pause and ponder,
No applause will be guaranteed when the curtain closes and the lights come up. No casting call expected for next years performance, no parade of thanksgiving, no gifts and no acceptance. And yes, no roses thrown at your feet. You will not be loved or part of the inner circle of belonging.

But still you get to chose, it is your life. Choices always result in consequences. Nothing is ever as clean and perfect as the script given to you, showing your part in black and white. Flesh of man changes the odds. No one is perfect. All are a slight variation of what could or should be.

You do not have to submit. You do not have to spend any time with your abuser. You have no written or unwritten obligation to keep.

Forgive, Release, cut the abuser free. Once he owes you nothing, You are free to walk.

Choose your next step carefully. If you so choose to be free, in confidence, move gently toward the narrow door. Within are possibilities unknown by those who follow the script.

Live. Laugh. Love. No regrets. No promises. 

Saturday, December 24, 2011

A Real Nightmare Before Christmas

The holidays-to many- (the sheer thought of them) brings such marvelous images to mind, memories of years past but also promises of this year to come.

The mind is not so kind to those who hurt.

Intrudes without a warning.
Shut up. Closing In. Sliding.
Slowly the walls grind, pressing down and inward.
Smaller...the space to live, to exist to breath naturally, yet so-not-normal to the average person with an average working brain, with fibers, cells, the chemical uptake, with a spark, a leap, a jump across the synapse.

Of not! Out of rhythm, a mis-fire, a bit of energy is the passing chemical so taken for granted in person who lives day by day above the riff-raf of those with less ability.

It is all wrong.
What I see is what is not in place.
Nothing being where it should be.
Discarded, unwanted, not right.
A miss is assumed without even a look.
Of course, it must be wrong.

Out of hundreds, what are the odds that I could ever select 'the one' that could receive the sought after appreciation - "approved" - well done - wow, thank you. I really mean it, its lovely. Exactly 'the one' I picked, 'the one' I planned to select.

Why play the game?

A charge of shopping, wrapping and mystery.
The odds are so large against being 'the one' wanted.
What a waste of time and no thanks, just mere haunting grunts of disapproval, followed by a full and depressing grey sigh as futility.

Why do we waltz these dark steps of this unnerving dance? 

Haunting, hollering, hear the grating shriek. The shrill of what could have been, but what clearly is not and never will be.
Just numb darkness.
Hollowness with no capacity to be filled, complete or accomplished.
Always the holiday minstrel tune left unsung, a melancholy drool of dread.

Alone is intoxicating.
Leave me alone. Go away.

Silence is the only sedative - a mere moment of peace is intoxication.

Drunk on not and none--the twins robustly traversing through murky time.

And once upon a time... she died... morbid, sick, and so warped.
It brings joy.
The uglier, the steeper!
A vertical plane, a sheer grip-less wall to climb, or quite more logically to slip, slide, and fall into the abyss of regret, torture and sorrow.

And they all sang underneath the mistletoe that turned into a wiry metalic worm. Tubes of remorse coming, darting, and trying to strike an attack.

If only I could get one bite, a good deep sting, to penetrate the marrow of her soul, to kill the hope, to boil the blood, to curse the shadow lurking just behind, and closing in, foretelling what will be.
We never let go, she will never be free.

Be warned, leave her.
Stay away.
She is mental, in a-not-so-right way, get it?
Fact-check... the history if visible to any clever, practical person in charge.
Don't be trick into thinking she can do or be. Truth be told 'it is never finished".

Laughter - a dark, coal chilly bark of the one called "unlove."
He is coming from what is not, nor never will be.
No need for stabs--a sharp, steel, reflective edge that could slice with ease, like a swipe through butter with a warm, metal blade.

So unnecessary when she is already gone, a prisoner of regret.

A snobbish smirk and the felt movement of air brushes over her bony fingers and in to her outward flaring nostrols the slight breeze brings comfort to the present moment but in reality where-ever it may hide, and precisely where no one will ever find.

Never more, Never, Never, Never more.
How crass! The lever of knowing its forever, the titanium threads tightened in a web so meticuluously weaved.
Clawing about her tender shoulders like a pretend shawl.
They think it wraps about her as a decoration running along the mantle - all for show.
But why?
Isn't it obvious?
It is all about the same.

Such a deafening perfect distraction, and it can be sad how well it works. 

Makes one miss-out on all the fun of the tactless contention--the sharp, jagged words cleverly placed in a festering spot where repeated jabs remain hidden--just under the surface.
They are always there, a dull, pricking nerve.
The source of pressure so easily sends her into a tissy. The wire-trip to anger, an explosion sends bits imbedded into anyone near her presence. 
So guard yourself. Protect. Keep safe. Stay away.
Rejoice! Again, She is all alone. The echo of time ticking away, against itself. Forever to be remembered as a menace, and she longed to be left alone.

It always works, year after year, after year.
The perpetual perfect plan until death do you part.
"It could be worse."

"IT" always can! But that tis OK by me, because stealing her joy and leaving her empty once again is all the holiday cake and ice cream I need to be full.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!
And it's all wrapped in pretty paper and stuck with loops of colorful ribbon, in the boxes snuggle under the Christmas tree.

Mystery under the Christmas Tree

What can they be... inside, I mean, of course?

Hope... grace... peace... We are within.
We may not surface, not show, but know no weapon formed against us will ever prevail, and though in the victory dance he is rejoicing like the enemy enjoying his spoil of battles won. It is never, what to him it seems.

Never doubt... in the center core remains a soft flickering flow, a permanent sense of knowing self.

I may be captured-a prisoner held within while here in his dominion of earth.

Don't be sad - he can never harm her, as a sweet child of innocence she runs through the field of daisies and wishing flowers up to her arms like playing in a field of wheat, so full of nourishment and sheer delight.

My love can not be taken away from her, so don't shed a tear. 

She may look tormented, broken, imprisoned by chains of sadness and misery, but it is only the false reflection of what he wants you to see.
Trust me. She is OK.
She may never experience the fullness of living what she knows within while she lives here on earth.

Believe me she breathes easy and peacefully snuggled in close to Me, covered in a rain of colorful sprinkles of lasting joy. She is safe, and happy.

Christmas brings visions of sugar plums, santa traveling, and reindeers dashing - maybe she fails to engage every season, year after year, because she doesn't know how to live the innocent world of holiday charm and wonderful make-believe!

"Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! "

All turned upside down, and inside out - it truly is his greatest fear - she knows happiness, love and contentment within her core being.

Hark, grace is the real nightmare before Christmas to the enemy that wants to rob, kill and destroy the Merry Christmas of every girl and boy. In the end, and in eternity, he never wins.

Game over.

Have a MERRY MERRY Christmas and a New Year filled with hope! 2012

Saturday, November 19, 2011

REST Is What We Need First

Rest is were life begins. Sit. Rest. Live.

We can busy ourselves in life.... eating, cleaning, watching, texting, reading, writing, shopping, meeting, doing..... and never ever find life.

Life is not what we make up it to be.

Life is a gift - we only start living when we learn how to rest.

As long as we lug around our hurts, our violators, our nemeses, our broken heart, our shattered dreams, and our mess.... we will never be able step into living life as it was initially meant to be for us. The life would should and could be living now!

The only way to find rest is in God.

Haven't  you tried so many other ways?  People do try so hard.... before they turn to God they try almost everything... or else they sit in a catatonic dullness of nothingness. Depressed. Exhausted. Near Dead.

Cry out to God! Run to Him. Fall into His arms and His presence. In God, you will find rest for your weariness.

God is real! Look around... everything you see... it is like living in a dream... it feels so real, so solid, so permanent. But all you see is temporal, physical. God is what you see when you wake up. The spirit world is life, the real eternal world.  Try to wrap your thoughts around this concept.

God created you. Jesus is real. He came to earth as a baby, lived as a young man, died on the cross as an adult, was buried on the third day.... but listen... I pray you will hear this in your hurting soul...

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

Tight Around Your Neck

The scarf around my throat ... I thought about it... I wanted to hang myself, to end it all, to make this stop happening. I don't want to hurt others, to respond inappropriately, to make people cry. Why can't I just shut up? Why can't I stop talking? If only I never said a word, it would help so many times and so less people would be hurt. I really don't say anything that consistently helps. I write better than I speak anyone. I long for it, but don't think I can do it. I wish my voice would be taken away. To never scream again. To never say another painful word. To never push into a conversation. To just listen and be silent.

A failure is how I often feel. I feel worse..I feel less...

Why did He allow me to be made? Why knowing the future let it happen... the sperm meet up with the egg... the child to be formed in my mother's womb? If He could see the number of my days, He knows me through and through why allow someone to be made so that they can be tormented and in turn hurt and torment others while all along always tormenting themselves? What possible joy? What possible good? What greatness of purpose out-ways the damage, the agony, the undying misery?

Glimpses here and there... a good day sprinkled in ... some laughter... some heartfelt connection... some positive difference..........

But in the weight of the balance, is it worth it to You? It is not, to me.

Monday, October 17, 2011

I'm Scared

I'm scared. I feel like a whole has been ripped right through my gut exposing the deepest secrets of who I am or was and I am really scared.

What will become of me?

Will they laugh,



throw stones....

Will it hurt? How deep will the pain go... how long will it last...people can be so mean.

Will I live to regret me desire to be transparent... my desire to inform... to show what others may never get to peer within to see?

Is that way I was set free? Did He know I would tell? Did He need someone to survive to explain what it is to be insane?

Nevertheless, it still hurts, deep inside, twisting like spaghetti that will never come unclumped... inedible...stiff, stuck together what should be loosely free... it balls up inside of me.

I draw a deep breath and ask for Him to reach in and take this heavy, painful lump away...spiritual surgery by the hand of the Master Physician.

I trust. I lie open. I wait. I breathe. I will it away, lifted, takes, disposed, thrown...

another cleansing breath of the gut and all around from head to toe.

I no longer fear. He is here. My Doctor, friend, companion, Lord.

Come to me, make me whole, take away the pain of knowing and making known. Protect me as I stand out on the ledge, use what You compel me to speak. Its for your glory... the only thing I have to give.

Cherished ... what others dare to trash, to frame, to label or blame... you hold like a perfect gem to be admired... the blue diamond of hope. So beautiful and so costly... I know you know its worth. I can know rest my weary brain and soul.

I've allowed myself to be... of use to Thee.... how little it may be... a drop into the ocean, a speck of dust upon a shelf... and in Your hand it is enough...

Another cleansing breath, I can now go.

I can be. That is all we can ever really do .... is be.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Why Do You Push Me and Laugh

I hurts so much.

When I try, when I reach out, when I am needing help, when I try to talk, when I ask,

Why Do You Push Me, and laugh?

It is not funny to me. It hurts.

I know I am not always stable, not always right in the head. It is not by choice.
You say I don't handle stress, but you don't do anything to alleviate my stress. You act like you have the answers, like you understand what is happening, like you have adjusted, like you are normal, like you care. You even say at times, "I love you." And that is nice to hear, because I believe.

But when I call you, when I talk to you, when I am seeking help or need a change or to get on track or to move one step away from the edge or to make progress or to make life better...

You PUSH me... you rattle on with jokes and laughter, it's a game, you twist my words and laugh. You make up riddles, jokes and play on words. You wont get serious; you don't take me seriously. Around, and around, and around we go. Poking, laughing, questioning, laughing, telling and laughing.... anything to beat around the mulberry bush and never address the point of why I asked to talk.

So, I coil in, steaming for a blow up. I cry, get angry, force myself to walk away. I wail, talk to myself, want to run, want to be put away, want it all to end. This is not how I want to live, no one would want to be treated this way... and I am especially fragile, still.... and no matter how many times we have repeated this ACT in our 'play of life' .... we don't ever rewrite the script.

One person can't change a whole cast.

I try to take a different part, to be under control, to be regulated, to be stable, to be kind, to not raise my voice, to not nag, to interact in positive ways, to listen and to talk, to encourage and help, to take and respond when you need something or to go somewhere....

And when you dream, I focus and listen and try to imagine your dreams being real with you... and do what I can to make them so.... I want you to embrace who you are, and to be and to have and to know.....

But whenever I start getting overloaded, when things pile up, are left out, spilling over, lying around, I aim to tackle what needs to be done. I work as best as I can. I pick, I pull, I put, I load, I place, I call, I write, I run, I answer, I deliver, I get, I fix, ..... and then it happens. I weaken... I tire... I can't keep up and I think.... oh why do I ever think ...  "I will just ask, that's it. We just need to talk about it, surely if they knew, surely if I shared, surely if only I told what my needs were, that I needed help, that I needed everyone to do their part, that I needed someone to work, to give, to be unselfish, to lift a finger not in their own personal luxury or delight or benefit, they would listen, receive, understand and respond in a caring way. They would help.

BUT, No....

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Abstract World - What is sanity?

Is it insanity? How can you know?

If you are insane, you will never know... so if you don't think you are insane you might be.

If you do think you are insane, you might be.Or not.

Doesn't it take a little bit of "insanity" to see beyond? Well, if you prefer, mental capability to see and know what is abstract. To believe in, sensing, something more than, to understand better than, to feel with an aware that others often miss.

Is it you or is it them? Who gets to say? Who is really living in the real world?

And who gets to pick? Who sets the rules, standards, conditions, proofs, absolutes?

Can you bend your mind? Can you see beyond, can you feel more, can you know what others never even see?

What is real? Is it what is tangible, what is accepted by the majority or the brightest, smartest minds? And who is to determine who and what is really bright or smart? If you rattle back facts are you smart? Or does that mean you can record and replay very well? But genius, is not playback... no matter how much or how deep or how far or how wide your storage and rapid repeat of facts may be.

What is genius?

Is it not the ability to create anew? what do what has been undone? To utter what has been unheard? To make visible what has been unseen? To share facts that have always been unknown? NEW.... not a new blend, nor a new order of what was, nor a new packing, nor a new method of what has been?

And if new is the substance of genius, than is not a Creator the only one possible of being a genius, of making something brand new out of nothing that was or came or existed or is? Not transformed, not mutated, not cloned, not replicated, not evolved... each of these begins with substance of some sort whether thought, sound, material, energy... even space from which has to be?

Pure genius is only possible by God, the Creator.

And it is His choice alone to who He wishes to give, or show, or make known, or aware what is new. Or even if He ever chooses to do this.

Is another not sane, out of touch with reality, not making sense, not right.... could it not be that you in all your great wisdom, experience, accolades, achievement were too absorbed in your own beliefs, your own concept of reality.... that in the end, you missed what was given and what is true. What is truth? Certainly, it is not you nor me nor any other mere non-creator to determine... unless you are so grandiose to think you are more knowing than the all-knowing God.

And isn't that what insanity really is? Because is it not so, that you will never know, if what you believe to be, really is and therefore, you foolishly place your eternal existence in what you have convinced yourself to be real, and you laugh... no, you scoff  and belittle anything or anyone that just might have the answers you don't want in your reality.

And in a sad, insane way, you convince yourself that your beliefs are truth, and that truth is make-believe, a figment of a person's (of course, another simpler minded person's) imagination, a thought conjured up to answer questions they could not answer so to be satisfied they created faith in what is not real.

Look in the mirror and answer this question.... Are you sane, and by whose standards? Are you convinced beyond all other possibilities that your believing "it" to be so is all the proof you need?

Don't forget how you will be able to explain the existence of God away the day - and it will come - the day you are in His presence, remember how to tell Him that He is not real.

On that day, who will be the fool? Who will be insane? Who will not be functioning in reality?

What is abstract to humans today will not always be an abstract world of another dimension of time and space... it will be all that is as it already is.

But only those who don't know that to be true, don't know Who is.

Can you see? Are you sane? Are you living based in reality?

Monday, August 29, 2011

Simple minded, No minded, Slow minded

Ever feel like your brain is made of soggy milk-laden cereal bowl of shredded wheat?

soggy brain
That is how my brain feels today. I have been sick... in bed for five days (an eternity for me) and my moods have swung up, down, up, down, low, creeping, scraping, crawling, screaming, meanness. My eyelids are tired, struggling to stay alert. From mush to dried out melba toast has been the consistency of my brain. I have read everything in sight from old book, to new book, to newspaper, and internet article... then TV and tv and more numbing, who-gives-a-care tv.... to only roll back and prop myself up for the next book I pulled from the pile on the floor.

No wonder I get crabby, crappy, get-away-free-me.... words, sentences, thoughts, people, doing, saying, going.

All are moving on the electric escalating path to nowhere.  All is vain. Life has no purpose. Isolated. Disconnected. Meaningless.

And how we try to pretend we are something... we have a meaning, a purpose. you know, we are suppose to be important.

But do you think those who have existed, toiled, tried on this spinning but never stopping world of earth really understood their reason. How could we? We are mere mortals. One piece of the all... one soul in the universe. Really, do we matter?

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Our Nakedness Exposed Self

Were you there?

Did you know?

Really... its all hearsay unless it comes directly from the one, and even then we have to hope they are not lying to others or even more the usual case, themselves. We all present an image of what we hope people see, of what we want people to know.

But in all our nakedness, the uglies are seen and known.... strip any of us down, to our bare bones, what is left... no skin, no hair, no surgery, or material accessories to pretend.... remove the body and what is left? what is there?

Wouldn't that be the best? To be able to sit around with others, to be able to really talk and get to know, to share from the soul, to know and be known. Soul to soul. Real to Real. Truth to Truth.

And it is there, in the naked, exposed, stripped-down-of-it-all moment that I find myself...
and odd as it may be,
I am finally comfortable with being seen, with being visible.

I am happy to be exposed for who I really am, it brings a peculiar smile of rest to my soul... because I am really happy with who I am ...
 I just can't seem to be seen in this jaded, rubberized, manufactured, tinsel town where money is the King.

No one stops to hear the simple minded.
 I have nothing to offer, to impress, to improve.
I am going no where here, so no need to follow.

And the truth is - at the end of it all - few want to know who they really are... to look into the mirror in the eyes of a soul who goes where no ones dares to.

 The fragile essence of  being real.

Is it not really like the plump chicken in the pot, boiling and boiling until the joints loosen and the meat slides off the bones, that we finely find the only opportunity in life to wish?

So naked to the bone I stand and reach out my hand.... now I understand.

No wonder I am treated like a freak show.

The horror of it all is when we step out of the role we know so well how to play, and dare to live uncasted.... we see who we really are....

Do you dare? Can you? Will you?

What it is like to not know the next step, totally out of control, living impromptu in the moment?

Finally, come what may, living visible!

 I dare to be, do you?

Friday, August 26, 2011

Ugly Raging Mom

 Stop! Dangerous.... don't read if you hurt.... don't read if you are raw.... don't read if 'cutting words' tear you apart. This is raw... this is ugly, mean, painful...... but a gut honest moment frozen in time.

Did you pick up your clothes? I told you to pick up the clothes? Why aren't they folded? Hang them up.
Can you watch the kids? Just 4 hours. It is the least you can do. Everyone has to do their part.
You forgot to feed the cat? Do you want him to die? I should have never gotten that cat? If he dies, its your fault.

I asked you to water the plants, they're bone dry. I paid good money for those plants, water them!
Why can't you do the things we ask? Why are you so slow? What is that look? You expect me to do something for you? Always about you? Push Push Push... to get your way, and then you sit on your butt.

Your room is a mess. How can you live like this? After all we do, you even have your own room.
Stop eating in the living room., put the plates in the dishwasher, is this your cup, crumbs on the sofa again.

Get those dirty muddy shoes off the tile? don't bring those in here... oh, they stink.
Wet clothes, I should have figured you would leave them here? Ever heard of a washer? Of course, not.
What time will you be home? Hello! I need to know. When is your work? Do you have a schedule?
Your part of this family, you know. How about doing your part? How about appreciated us?

Leave, you don't deserve to live here. Ingrate! I don't care where you sleep...
They heard you stream, they know how mean you are, you are simply a jerk, a lazy, selfish jerk.

God wouldn't tell you to do that?
Obey your parents is what HE says!
You aren't even my own kid, I didn't have to adopt you.
You blew it. You could have been an example. They looked up to you.

This house would be better without you. We can't wait to the day your gone.
You cause so much trouble... always talking back... always an excuse.

I Don't Fit

Have you ever felt like you don't fit?

Nobody likes me.

Why was I not included?

How long did it take you to figure out that you are different?

The calls never came. You didn't get invited. They went without you. You just happen upon a notice.... and you didn't even know .... you offered to help, but no one called you back.... you wanted to minister, but you are asked to give a testimony, but your offer was declined...

Not now. No time. We will call. I'll get in touch. Thanks, bye... (silence.... permanent silence)
What is wrong with me? I am a reject. People act all loving... they pretend to like me... they say I am nice, but really, I know I am not their friend. When they get together with friends ... to go do something fun... to share a special occasion... to visit, to enjoy, to talk, to hang, to know...... I am not invited.

Sound like a whiner.... who cares? But the problem is.... am I different.... no that is not it?  Is there something wrong with me?

What is wrong with me? Why do people not like me? Why do people avoid me?

Am I a problem? Am I mean?

Sometime .... I think people wonder.... about me...

Am I emotionally sound? Am I dangerous? Am I weird?

I say, I speak, I feel, I think, I I I I I I I I I I I I I I

Am I self-absorbed? Do I have vision of grandeur? Am I all talk and no do?Am I am misunderstood or clearly understood?

Am I a freak? But don't we have to be true to ourselves?

I think I make people uncomfortable. Do you know why?

Could it be that I say what I think? I mean what I say? I am honest, better or worse. With me, you know where you stand, you know what I think.

Could it be that I hurt people? Am I mean?

Maybe I am not in reality...clueless, freaky, wrong, disturbing, too much work, undependable, awkward, unstable, a problem, a loser, a complainer, negative, downer, trouble, confused, blunt, socially inept....


I will never know what anyone thinks about me, and with that I have to be at peace. To be at peace with myself, I have to know what God thinks of me.

God loves me, He accepts me, He knows me... that is how I survive.. this is how I move on, grow. Continue to learn and allow God to help me be everything He created me to be.

I may be broken, messed up, the list goes on...


(and I take a deep breath!)

Monday, August 22, 2011

He Bleeds for Me

So deep and wide - it all runs like rain.
Still He comes, I can't get away. Do not run from Him.
Why, why wont He give up, just let me die... I am not sure, can't fathom why. 
Why does He come to me? One day I might .... one day I might... one day I might perceive.

He Calls me, "Beauty"!

And still it fell, down from His face, pierced the skin and it cut the vein....running from His veins, seeping, pouring...the power of His priceless perfect blood. He paid the price, the ransom for my life. 

Still He bleeds, bleeds, bleeds for me. Why would anyone bleed for me?

Do you see - that He bleeds?... He bleeds for me.... So intense, so real.

Trying to end what another began. 

It's not His fault, but still He pays. He bleeds for me.

He covers me with the blood from His veins. So He bleeds; He bleeds for me. I don't understand why He bleed for me? Why did He have to die for me? I am not worth it; it's plain to see: drained of hope, drained of life, scarred, scabbed, disfigured.

What does He see in me? Why does He care for me? Why would He bleed for Me?

He calls me, "Beauty." 

He says, "He loves me."

 He beckons me. He turns my thoughts inside out.

It's the life, it's the source, it's the cure...every drop... covers so much more.

Let His blood pour down on me! When will they ever believe? I let His blood pour down on me! Don't you see - that He bled?  He died for me....

It's the life, it's the power, it's the love........................ and its only in His blood.

The precious blood of Jesus.

Friday, August 5, 2011

Get Out!

What is happening?
Get OUT! I said, "Get out!"

Why did you abandon us? You don't care. After all we have done.
Why did you leave? Bet you think it will be nicer, easier, and you will get what you want.
You will pay. One day. You will be so sorry. Mark my words.... you always were a loser.
I know you wouldn't amount to much.

Get OUT! I can't take you anymore. I don't care where you go. LEAVE.

You let everyone down. You just cut and ran. Didn't even say, "Goodbye!"
You are selfish, always. Looking out for number ONE. Why don't you think of your siblings?
I need you to take care of them... I mean, they need you.... look up to you....
They will know now and forever that you didn't care. They will always remember.
You couldn't handle it so you left them.... you didn't even care what happen to them.

Who do you think you are? Shut the hell up. Leave my face? You were a mistake...
Why can't you speak up? Why don't you explain yourself?
It is lies, all lies. You are believing lies. Have it your way. You will be sorry, you will hurt, you will see.

They hate you. You hurt him. How do you think we feel? We don't care. It's not about you! Why didn't you obey... why didn't you wait.... why did you go.... you don't care. I always knew you never really cared.

Whose the crazy one now? I don't need help. You are the one with a problem. Everyone else is fine. It's you.


Thursday, July 28, 2011

Living through Super Glue or The Fire

Is this your life?
When you are shattered in life, like a crystal vase that has crashed on a hard tile floor, you are splintered into little parts - some sharp as a cutting edge, others blunt and a few chunks that just wouldn't break any smaller. We go about life trying to "be normal" if we can... to fit in, to not draw attention, to not be 'a problem', to wishfully be swept away...

But very rarely do the broken pieces in life ever come together...

Why? With so many hurting people, so many who have been taken advantage of, who have been abused or used... why do so few find healing.

I think it might have to do with what we are willing to endure, what cost we deem too much to pay... and how much we love.

Cost and love - an odd duo. Love can't be bought, but it costs more than most of any love newbie would imagine. Sacrifice, selflessness, delayed satisfaction and so many similar lessons must be mastered in transforming ... in becoming capable of loving others deeply, and really loving ourselves.

Broken people have such a warped view of love.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Bleed No More, Stop the Cutting

His Blood For Me
Bleed the pain... it pours like a heavy rain.
And it cuts, feel the pain, it's so sharp.
It's the raw edge of pain.When will it end? When will it run dry?
Bleed No More..... when will I bleed no more.

I know fear, and Fear knows me.
I know death, he stares at me.
He wanted to take my life, just a child, once upon a time an innocent me... once was... one time... I think, the word "child" was suppose to be, a description of me. No More!

It's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie.
I can't die for myself.
Stop the cutting, it will never really stop the pain.
Each slash is another bar holding my soul in a prison within... going deeper... ever deeper, lost within.

The glassy stare, the stone cold face, the numbing way she floats through space.
Just a shell of who she could be. 
It will never satisfy the gulf - the hollow lifeless agony. 

How many others had it stolen away, like me, ripped in anger, punched away?
Now be silent, don't say a work. Don't remember - it never really happen anyway... just remember it never really happen like what you say.
You don't know - you don't know - its not like what you say.

My life's a horror flick - splatter blood upon a screen, wasting, meaningless... putrid death inside of me.
But it reels and reels, I was cast in that role... though it was not suppose to be.
Soon the credits roll, please - no - stop,
before it says: The End.... It's too soon, I am not's not my ending. Help me!


But He knows, He saw me hurt. And the tears, He saw me sob, He held each one. The costly tears, He knows the why of each one. He will never forget. He remembers the truth for me. 

Friday, July 15, 2011

Drained - Rejected?

I don't know why I am so drained?

Nothing is wrong... no sickness, no big problems (we all have the daily little stuff).

It is more of lifeless, empty, (I hate to say this) BORED.

Out of my heart flows His Words.....

Yeah, yeah, I've said it before, "Bored? I will give you something to be bored about."

Many think if you set goals, work, plan, go.... you can avoid it.

The truth for my life is I am not purposefully plugged in to doing what God created me to do. I am like an artist without a canvas, a fashion-designer without fabric, a chef without food.

But sometimes I do have the supplies: the canvas, the paint, the brushes, the fabric or food... and what I am lacking is a place to be visible. I can paint a hundred canvases but if not one is ever seen - what purpose is my life? I can design closet filled with outfits but if one is never worn - why exert the effort? And I can make the most appealing meals with the finest of ingredients, but if no one ever taste them - it is a waste.

God created me to write, to speak, to teach.... I know it. I get weary of the energy it takes to promote myself, to network, to find small openings for my abilities.... I write, and write and write... journals and notebooks filled - in piles - around me.... if I look I see... I think...

Did I write that? That was good. What a message. What a needed teaching.

But I wait... and the doors do not open. I know His timing is perfect, and I don't mean to whine or complain, but there is something beautiful about life when you are allowed to receive from Him and let Him flow out from you... watering, seasoning, building, lifting up, rescuing, renewing..... the list goes on.....

Friday, July 8, 2011

Doubting Myself - Living in Rejection

hurt, cold, run away
She hurt me. She pointed at me and accused me.
What? Why? I didn't.....

Run... run... run away. Close your mouth... Calm...

But I reach out ... slap... and I reach out... slam... and I reach out... stone cold!

Why was she angry? I thought she was my friend. I like her. We have always gotten along. What did I say that was so  offensive.

She did not smile. She would not talk. She turned not to look back at me. Does she know? Does she care? Or is she simply hurting too much inside to even see the pain caused to another? my pain. I am blind to her pain?

"I am sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. We both live in grace."

Why is she ignoring me? Rejecting my words.... shunning me...running from me....

I gotta go, gotta get out of here, can't take it, can't believe it, what is her problem, rules are rules, can she not read. Does she have no respect? She is wrong, oh so wrong. irksomely wrong. getta away. run away. stop it. I don't want to hear.

She gets in her car, and shuts the door.

Then the voices speak, "You always ruin everything. You can't make friends. You can't function in a group. You will never be able to be a part. And you thought you found your place, a place to serve, a place to minister. hah! See how quickly you cause problems. They would be better off with out you. Everywhere you go things fall apart, people get offended, someone is hurt..."

But I was so happy, at peace, in love.

How do occasions materialize, be enjoyed, provide assurance and blessing, and then, so quickly turn? The rug ripped out, the room set ablaze. I had it, now I watch it slip away. Taunting. Haunting. Echos of the past - he hit the button 'replay'.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Rattled, Shaky - I am not Me

Not Sure Why or How I feel when my insides rattle...
My insides shake beneath my skin, especially in my arms. Something rattles out of balance, moving sporadically through me, like a washer spinning wildly because the load inside needs an adjustment.

With very choppy comments, I clip too close at people and their words.
Back off!

"Can't others see I am not normal right now? Don't they know I need space and an extra dose of grace?" I question.

Maybe it is truth - that people don't look out for the needs of others... they are looking too closely at what they want.

What about me? Do I?

I try. I didn't always know how... it is a skill. A lesson that must be learned: how to take your eyes off of your wants and needs to consider what is happening inside of another person.


Don't you see her shake? I do.

My friends leg moves so rapidly like a bobbin bouncing loosely as the thread swirls it up and down, round and round. I see - she is nervous. But I don't know why? I don't even know if she realizes movement or if it is a rhythmic pattern unconsciously enabling her to be rocked into a state of bearablity or ease.

I don't point out her rattling to my friend. I ignore it thinking if only we change the subject or do something it will subside. Let me distract her. Let's get busy.

Is this how others treat me? Are they made uncomfortable? Do they want to help so they distract me instead of gently letting me know they love me, and asking how they can meet my need at that precise moment?

Learning to look at others and how I respond provides insight into those around me. It is healthy to not always be so introspective.

Does she think or feel like me? Would it help her to know I understand what it feels like to rattle inside your skin? If I don't speak, she may never know......

What do you do? Do you distract, avoid, love or maybe you just never see?

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Drift Away- Dissociative Fog

My eyes close and I drift away. As if drawn by some power stronger than myself, and left drained off all my energy. My head easily flops back against the pillow resting on the headboard... not another day, another wasted day to sleep.

I want to wake, as I stagger out of bed. My feet find the floor, and I try to steady myself as I sway. I love living, people, being actively alert and alive, but my head slides down upon the other pillow. I toss from one to another, but want awake. Maybe I didn't get out of bed after all, maybe it was a strong desired dream.

Heavy eye lids, quiet words - none spoken. Lifting up my head again, I realize I drifted, slept, maybe lost a few hours, no minutes or many even seconds... it is so hard to assess.

Dissociative Fog can be numbing, debilitating, confusing...

I slide a little further down my bed until I am nestled underneath the fluffy comforter with my head on the over-sized sham pillow.... comfort, relaxation.... sleep.

Hours later I awaken to activity: the phone rings, people are moving about, voices, trying to make plans, questions, did she miss the party, where was she suppose to be, where is the number? I hear myself mumble, "I am so tired. I don't feel good."

Regret, sorrow, shame, frustration, sickness rises in my heart. I don't want to be this way. How does it happen? Here one minute, gone the next. In and out of consciousness, a stupor, drunk without a drink, drugged without a medication.... Does my body just need to rest? Is emotional healing so hard on a person's body that it must resort to checking out for a time to stabilize?

I am so sorry. Did I let him or her down again? Will I ever be normal? What is normal? Normal people don't sleep 48 hours. Normal people can function 24/7 on a regular basis except for a rare physical illness.

Do I say upset at myself? Disgusted? Dejected? What good does that do?

With grace and hope that God is in control and that this too is a temporary state that will be greatly out-shined by the joy and glory of eternal life with God in Heaven, I center myself. Sleepy but focused, weak but certain.

Life, days, I - will not always be like this. So I will persevere and even if it means I have to get carried along, through, until this sleepy forest ends. Stay on course, keep moving ahead, don't look back, but to be encouraged by how far you have accomplished .... with so much more to conquer ahead.

Do you have foggy, sleepy days?

Looking Out - Looking In (Thoughts of child abuse survivor)

Stillness quickens in my ears... deeper going, fear to hear. Do you see it? Can you care? Is she someone... see her reaching out her hand. Twisted, withering, brittle hand... If you touch her, she must just break.

Slap back! Shutter... What could she want? Frightened, fearing.... what's she done?

Can we trust her? Do we dare? See her covered by her hair? She is looking out, no one's looking in.... no one sees her, no one cares. No one reaches to her hand.

She is looking inside, nothings ever easy. She's coming undone. Loose thread, twirling, round and round.... Spider webbing, not a sound. Will we loose her, where did she go?

Too much trouble to find her now. I can't reach... I can't go there... I don't wanta... I am scared.

Smash. Crash. Splash. Cutting deeper into what remains. Who is with her? Why's she cry? Do not loose her, before she dies.... always bleeding, when will it stop... always peeling, when will it stop... always tearing, when will it stop.... always dying, when will it stop?

REACH HER! Catch her. Watch her fall, slowly out of her control... little bobbin might explode. Can we poke her? What's she do? Did she see ya? Is she a fool?

Just to be known, and understood. Notes play the music, draws her to life. Watch she is spinning, back again. She has been so hurt, by other's sin. She is looking out, always looking out, always looking for... knowing there is more. More to life, more to death, more to listen, more to know, more to healing, how far..... how far.... how far... must she go?

She is waiting for the deadly bite!

She is never out of reach. Never lost to YOU. You have always seen her, telling her what to do. You never looked away. He never blocked your sight. He is not so powerful compared to You in the light. Darkness loves the fear, blinded to the truth... darkness hold her here, help her walk to You.

Tip-toe, inch away, she can't risk it, she can not stay. Listen closely, hear her cry... why do so many just walk on by.... see her in the shadow, she is in the shadow, hiding in the shadow, blended to the .... blended in the... gone.

Childlike wonder, why does it come? Instinctively she knows, speak to her - she knows, scream to her - she knows.... she's listening and  looking for a crumb of hope, falling, fading, blown away... darkness covers her, up today. Please say nevermore, she needs nevermore, she wants nevermore. No more bleeding, no more dying, no more crying, no more lying. Watch her take a step of faith, she wants to trust, but she runs away.

Do you see? Can you see? Must you see? Wont you see? Try and see.

She is always looking out, looking for a way. Wont anyone tell her, she doesn't have to stay. Why are we so quiet? She doesn't think you care. Can anybody .... will anybody... will somebody... will one body? Is it you?

Trust me, she is looking out, she wants to trust you, but she is filled with doubt. Fear, stares, no, can't go.... close, away, crawl away, run away.

She is looking, hoping for more than words.... more than words..... more than word. She's just heard words, only words. Action speaks louder than words. Love moves deeper than words. Trust is built on more than words. Faith is more than words.

Monday, May 9, 2011

Living Visible - A Ministry For Healing

So many hurting are hiding, invisible to many.

OK, I wrote this yesterday and chickened out with tons of doubts and removed it. Now that I realize I was listening to a lot of comments being sent my way by the enemy... I am putting it back up. "Oh, me of little faith!"

If you are interested in helping organize a non-profit ministry for survivors of sexual assault, domestic violence, child abuse and trauma, please contact me.

So often the world sets up organizations to be there for hurting, but they don't have the real answers. I am hoping to set up a ministry that really make a permanent difference in hurting survivors lives.

God is laying the vision of such a ministry on my heart, therefore, I am looking for a team of like-minded Christians to prayerfully lead.

God uses each of our abilities and gifts for His ministry. 

Check out the document for more information about Living Visible Ministries

 Lindy Abbott 

Saturday, April 30, 2011

Another Lost Day! (Life after child abuse trauma)

Another one.... another lost day.... they add up so much... so many lost days.

Running on the inside, hurting on the outside.

Words, oh so many words.... healing, clinging, cutting through, knowing, telling me what to do.

And do I do it, or must I wait?

And who can do it, or must I stay?

Running on the outside, hurting on the inside.

No one will see.... how they hurt me... No one will know.... pass by so slow.

And does it really matter? Can it make sense? Is it so important? Looking through a lens.....

Running for a living, hurting cause I'm dying.

no hope, no flight, no chance, no life..... crystal spinning..... little eye lids close....

Is there any hope? Will it really help? Who will reach her know? No one seems to know?

And does it really matter? Does anybody care? A blimp in the universe, with who will she share.....

Can you hear it, getting louder, bellow screaming, shouting sounder? I can't hear a word. I can't see a sound. How can it be? I didn't hit the ground.

Slapped on the left side. Beat on the right side. Shouting all around. Slammed in the covers. Frozen on the water..... solid, floating, down..............

No one heart a sound....

No one felt the pain....

Friday, April 29, 2011

I am Tired! (Results after Child Abuse/Trauma/Dissociative)

so tired.... so tired.....
I don't want to live any more.

I am so tired.

I have tried, and tried. Worked so very hard to be better, to be a person, to be functional, to be normal.

Some would say I have ....

I have done so good...

I have made progress...

My life is better...

It is always getting better...

but I know the truth......... I know I will never be OK, I will never be like others, I will never be normal, I will never assimilate, fake it til you make it doesn't really work.

A life of failures.... I feel so sorry for my husband, his family, my children, friends who have crossed my path, people who just will never try or understand.....

Yes, I am mad.... but I am also sorry, and angry, and sleepy, and hurting, and giving up.

What reason do I have to fight?

Thursday, April 28, 2011

I will never be....

I try to be uplifting and positive. I hope for a better me, a better day. I see things differently in my head before they occur than after I actually interact with the world.
Should I try to hang on...............................?

So much... nearly everything that I try ... crumbles, crashes, slips and breaks, explodes, cracks.

What I see is positive, loving, giving, sharing, togetherness.... this is not reality.... and so I am hurt, slashed, hurt, disappointed.... really does anyone care, why do I sit here and share my over-bleeding emotions and heart...

I really think sometimes I do to try to hang on.... to feel like if I will never be able to do anything, at least I can be a witness for some other soul - dark soul - hollow soul - pained soul... to know others are often barely hanging on also. Is that a reason to be? Is that a purpose to breath?

It is so difficult... when you want to experience normalcy.... to be a mom, wife, friend.... nobody famous, nobody special .... just simply a functional person that can make it through a short time in a day... and be productive... functional at the normal state that most people take for granted.

And when I cry, I appear weak. And when I sleep, I appear weak... And when I scream, I appear weak. Weak in disciple, character, growth. I am not who I want to be or who I will ever be.... I... must come to terms that some things, some people in this sinful world really don't get completely better.... I look normal on the outside, but I am not..... and so I silently cry, slowly die... second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, week by week, month by month.... WASTED.... a life that would have been better unlived. What is the purpose? .

Jump, Jump, Jump! Do you hear the Music?

Jump! What is stopping you?
Many times in life you will come to a cliff. Do you have faith? I guess that depends if you are certain of the path you are on and the creator of your path. Faith is never tested on the solid path... the steady predictable road.

You can only "Jump" with joy if you know the one asking you to take the leap.

Who is leading you to the edge? Listen to the music.... do you hear the music?

violence, violations, victim .... fear, fighting, fury.... harm, alarm, forever storm....

questions... interrogation... irrational.  Listen for the music, do you hear the music?

brutal, bloody, boxed...

touched, taken, terror...

Are you running? Where are you running? Are you scared?

Does it matter? Do you care? Will it hurt you? Is what you hear the music?

Sick, sick, sick.... in the brain, brain, brain.... just insane, sane sane.... Everywhere I run, everywhere I run..... I keep crashing into a closing pane.... I am trapped.... in pain...

Do you feel it? No more? What's in store? Is there more? Can you hear the music? Is there any music?

Pain, pain, pain.... Why am I ashame, shame, shame....

Who is insane, sane, sane? Everyday it the same, same, same?

What will change the world? What can change my world? It is spinning.... I am spinning... we are spinning....

Run, Run, Run.... You want fun, fun, fun, ... In the sun, sun, sun.....  dance, dance, dance.... In the sun, sun, sun.

It is just a lie, tears pour out your eye, What is it to die? Floating in the sky.... get away... any way... every day... start today... one note... one chord... one tone... one song......

Live, die

Know, lie

Cry, fly

Chaos spins around, blasting all away, no one hears what you say....

Monday, April 18, 2011

Angry, So Angry - but at Who?

I yelled. I screamed, "Screw U!" I was so angry..... but I didn't realize until later at who.

Anger Rages upon My Soul
Angry - I was in such a position, angry - no one put my fragile soul safe, angry - I felt trapped, angry - I came so far to be cut off, angry - I couldn't trust others...especially those in life the very people you are suppose to trust... those in life that most often are sitting in the front row of one's funeral, that have your back, that forgive, forget and protect. Anger boiled in me, burnt my soul, made me cry in deep agonizing tones howling like a wolf in the darkest night or a battle horn blown by a solider shot, wounded blood mixed with dirt crusted on what was once an optimistic uniform.

Anger seethed for those who hurt me, and I became unbalanced..rolling from one event to the next...never quite finding the "be still" place in life, because stillness brought more uncertainty and PAIN... a wall of falling rocks on my path, I am dangerous to anyone who walks close or even simply around to pass. No one is safe, the least safe is that precious girl, the life within me.

What to do? I am all bound up, formed into a rolling ball, like a large marble aimlessly moving toward any direction my life is tipped...

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Sorrow, Sleepy, Shattered - Dissociation Needing to Ground

Where are you looking?
I am so sleepy.

I am so sad - sorrow runs like a raid crashing into rocks, whips past trees, no life is safe in nature's way.

Splintered, shattered, bobbled brain... bouncing, rolling to a thud - STOP.

So close, yet so far away.

You missed it... You should have... You lost out... You would have...

We know what is best. God set it up. We know the mind of God for you. How Tragic!

You were offered what you needed, but you walked away. Fool, frightened little fool. It was there for the taking but you crumbled... you couldn't walk, you couldn't talk.... you wept, you hurt, you froze.

If only you did it our way.... "Have it our way"  Loser! We all gained, you lost! We all embraced, you are left along.

BUT WHY? God why? If it was You, why did I dare not go. I did not hear You calling... All the warnings blared into my soul.... "it's a trap" "you can't trust them" "they don't live in reality" "they desperately want a happy ending" "They need to use you" "They need to be trusted"

The ledge of love and hate... of believable and unbelievable... fiction and non-fiction .... are only one step away.... getting warmer.... turn.... getting colder. Close your eyes can you tell which way to turn? Do you know what voice to hear. HEAR ME!! TRUST ME!!! SAFE!!! COME!!! ALL IS WELL!!!

But who has been with me all these years? Whose sweet, gentle loving voice has walked me step by step through healing, life and victory? Who has helped me? Who has listened? Who do you know? Who do you trust?

The way is hard, a road less traveled. You will be misunderstood. You will be challenged. You will be questioned and judged and accused.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

I Need A Mommy!

There are times when God asks us to be vulnerable to help others see. For me, this is one of those times.IMG_2051ed

"I need a mommy!" mumbled the child through tears walking up and down the hallway. 

Over and over, it was all she could say, the only thought that seemed to answer the hurt inside her wounded heart. 

"I need a mommy! I need a mommy! I need a mommy!" she repeated as she sucked her finger for comfort.

She is about  three-years old. 

So confused and lost, but she knew what she was missing. 

A mommy to her would be someone to take care of her, someone to love her, someone to belong to...but where, where could Mommy be found?

Let me explain a little. Children raised in broken or abusive home lack security and attachment. A mother provides this as she embraces her child and gently pats her back or when she lovingly gazes in her baby's eyes. Tender times like these are vital to proper brain development. Without them the brain does not allows chemicals to be released that calms and eases stress. This explanation sounds technical, but people need to understand an abuse survivor does not simply regret not having a parent-child relationship. The brain actually develops improperly in children that are abused, neglected, or living in unstable homes, resulting in poor neuro-transmittion of chemicals in the brain.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Happy Days - Simple Times

Sometimes when you live a life after abuse.... you tend to be most emotional about the crud days... and so it tends to be what you write most about.

A benefit of living through trauma is "normal blah ordinary days" can be quite special.
Take Time to Savor Small Joys

Today, for me, is such a day. My sink is full of dishes, my bed still has to be made, I am not even sure I have brushed my hair or teeth... but I have a overwhelming warm glow resonating from inside out... and a very real smile on my face...

What's up? My relationships with my family... and God.

I had a GREAT talk with all of my children together and individually.

My son wanted to learn to fix french toast. So we did that together... he even wanted to get a cookbook out.

It seems we are together more... making attempts to lovingly appreciate little times... but most of all each other.

I love hearing my children talk together.... it helps when mom is not emotionally off-balance.

And I love hearing them express their opinions about ideas, other people's comments, and just anything they are interested... pure joy.

I will savor this moment like a fresh spring blossom... knowing moments, days... like these don't last, but they are real... and in this real moment I will savor it... let it fill me up... let my joy be full.

And maybe on a day that I am down I can reflect, look back on times such as today, as what I love so much about life itself.

That is what makes abuses and childhood trauma so devastating... Relationships are what life is made of.... if the basic ones are destructive, cracked, quicksand, life has in constant tumbling turmoil.

But also it is what makes life so wonderful, when you have invested in rebuilding a foundation, in building from the clean slate, from the steadiness of reality, and after the pain has been chipped away head-on...  you are given a true fresh start.

I sense this is what God is giving me. A time to build. A time to laugh. A time to love. A time to dance. Nothing is perfect but there is a time for everything, every season, under heaven... and it comes to those who are willing to walk through the intensely painful memories keeping steadily fixed with your eyes of your Maker.

Take time to notice.... happy days.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Trust - Warning Fragile! Handle with Care!

Little Bird, Who Do You Trust?

Once so small, so tender too..

Little bird, what must I do?

In the wind, it pulls swiftly at me,

Do I take flight, stay, or just wait and see?

I am a fragile soul, like bird,

Who will protect me, who will listen so I am heard?

I am in the safety of Your palm.

Nothing can touch me that is not in Your plan.

As a little bird, I look up to You.

Oh, God, show me what I must do?

"Be true to thyself and what you feel.

Honoring pain, admitting it is real.

Little bird, you are free... fly away .... live life as it should be.

Fly away home, Little Bird."


Take Flight!

Trust - that was the whole theme.

Once broken it is hard so seam.

No instant glue can mend the ragged tear.

Convincing, coaxing, pushing makes it just harder to bare.

Trust - fragile and so easily broken.

Shredded by words either said or unspoken.

Actions always speak louder than words.

They reveal your true hand, intension are heard.

Trust - a bond, a powerful link between two.

After it is broken, no quick remedy will do.

Childlike cornered, so many stating the way.

Shutting down, so I can hear what You say.

Trust - I am looking at You.

I know You will get me through.

This I am certain while all else is unsure.

I cling to You -hope and promise of good future.

Trust - I am trusting You.

You have always come through.

In the darkest of day, in the deepest of pain.

Your love, Your knowledge, You are always the same.

And this is the rising star

Nothing I have ever felt before.

I learned through the web of appeal

In the end I see, I trusted myself to feel.

I had so many choices to deny my pain,

To suck it up, make it hide in shame.

But I gave me a voice, and I honored it too!

Thank you God for showing me what I must do.

Of course, I owe it all to You.

I learned to trust myself and give me what I needed.... I didn't deny my pain... or how unsafe I felt.

When it all came down, crashing all around, fingers of accusations pointed at me. I stood strong.

I trusted my instincts,  I honored my feelings, I protected myself,

To thyself be true!

and in this revelation, a bud of peace, joy and assurance has emerged.  

Take Flight!

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Sorrow, Sleepy, Shattered - Dissociation Needing to Ground

I am so sleepy.

I am so sad - sorrow runs like a rapid crashing into rocks, whips past trees, no life is safe in nature's way.

Splintered, shattered, bobbled brain... bouncing, rolling to a thud - STOP.

So close, yet so far away.

You missed it... You should have... You lost out... You would have...

We know what is best. God set it up. We know the mind of God for you. How Tragic!

You were offered what you needed, but you walked away. Fool, frightened little fool. It was there for the taking but you crumbled... you couldn't walk, you couldn't talk.... you wept, you hurt, you froze.

If only you did it our way.... "Have it our way"  Loser! We all gained, you lost! We all embraced, you are left alone.

BUT WHY? God why? If it was You, why did I dare not go. I did not hear You calling... All the warnings blared into my soul.... "it's a trap" "you can't trust them" "they don't live in reality" "they desperately want a happy ending" "They need to use you" "They need to be trusted"

The ledge of love and hate... of believable and unbelievable... fiction and non-fiction .... are only one step away.... getting warmer.... turn.... getting colder. Close your eyes can you tell which way to turn? Do you know what voice to hear. HEAR ME!! TRUST ME!!! SAFE!!! COME!!! ALL IS WELL!!!

But who has been with me all these years? Whose sweet, gentle loving voice has walked me step by step through healing, life and victory? Who has helped me? Who has listened? Who do I know? Who do I trust?

This way is hard, a road less traveled. You will be misunderstood. You will be challenged. You will be questioned and judged and accused.

Happily Ever After... and so the story goes for the abused....

Trust - broken  - abusing dad stays by my mothers hospital bed - a little something everyone forgot to say...

Come, Come Play Your Role, You are Casted in our Play!
did we forget to mention that... did we mislead.... did we conveniently leave out that tiny detail... trust broken... how... how can you say you don't trust us?

Oh, we didn't think it was a big deal, it is normal for us, we let bygones by bygones. We choose not to remember the past, we aim to live in the present. We move forward... You can trust us?

Don't want to begin re-telling the source of my detaching desire to leave my feelings. That is why I start at numb. Not numb because I am unemotional - not feeling. This is not about you... its is about our dying mother. You can trust us?

Yeah, we know... you haven't seen him in almost ten years... maybe longer... you have stayed away from weddings, new births, funerals, holidays.... but we were suppose to know it mattered... we were suppose to keep him away from you.

I feel deeply. Trust is shattered.... I don't believe them, not a word they say, they don't care about me, they chose who to appease. The abuser or the abused? who will it be?