Skip to main content

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,

taunt,

kick,

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.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Weak and Selfish - I am That Girl

The preacher says we are all the body of Christ...that each member is necessary, a part that functions in unison with all others, but God, in this life--in our time spent on earth--in present day local churches, this is not really true. It sounds good, repeated over and over, because the Bible says so and therefore we all should. But churches seek the best, the ones that fit their mold, the ones who meet their mission, the one that helps their goal. They keep track of numbers, saving all the souls, running them through baptism, collecting them in the fold. But those of us with broken parts, not shiny like the rest, we hear what no one else hears, we feel words with our soul, we sense when something isn't right, therefore we get left out in the cold. Who wants to work with such a pain, she is trouble where she goes, she stirs the pot and sifts for truth, she sees the thorns and not the rose. Why can't she just be silent, "if you don't like...

I Want To Be Normal

I want to help others but I can't help myself. I love and know God and trust Him too, but that doesn't stop my brain from being a jumbled mess.  Jumbled thoughts can be pretty! Scattered thoughts keep bombarding me.  I feel like a rattle-head.  I think I wrote once about this before, being a rattle-head . And it was the least-read post...Even I couldn't relate to it much after the episode passed. I have cried out to God for help this morning and for the past two days. I have gone to others for prayer and carefully, with exercising great inner control tried to explain to my family of three teens and my dear husband (I almost didn't want to say dear, oh, how hard it can be on a marriage--to twirl out of control and to not know why or how to make the top stop spinning). I don't know what pushed the top into its first spin.  And that is part of the problem I can't think clearly. I can't remember even simple things.  It is like the f...

I Am Coming Unglued - Survivor of Childhood Abuse and Trauma

I was experiencing a trauma trigger. Writing this poem centered me and calmed down my emotions. It is odd but it is what flowed. I do not apologize or analyze because it is real. Poetry coming from trauma is healing; don't look to critically; simple gaze upon like you would abstract art hanging upon a wall. _______________________________________________________ I sense I am coming unglued. Drip, drip, snip, snip Like a rag doll, stitches removed, Pecked away by a raven or crow. It's okay it doesn't know. Carelessly, unaware, It's a bird: it does not care. Hear the water hit the pan, Irritating is the sound, Slowly dripping to the ground. Tin, tapping, repeat, repeat. A dripping faucet, I have a leak. Sadness seeps out of my core. Superglue-- it holds no more. Glasses broken, my dress is tore. How many times did she survive the war? Battles her both day and night? Still she hangs on in the fight. Warrior, so others claim. ...