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...