Shattered Glass Life After Abuse

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 ...

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. Joy 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 r...

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 livin...

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 to...

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, dispos...

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 ...

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? Bu...

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 ha...

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....

 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 r...

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 avoided....you 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 someth...

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: dra...

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...

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 lov...

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, ...

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 ...

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 d...

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! Stop! "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...

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 a...

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...

So many hurting are hiding, invisible to many. O K, 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 

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 d...

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?

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 .... j...

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...

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,...

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...

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

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 he...

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." TRUST 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 hea...