Shattered Glass Life After Abuse

She listens to them Handle the plans. Never asked her thoughts, She gives nothing. Needs are expressed; She is overlooked. What possibly could she do To help others? "Pick me," she longs, Wanting to offer. But dares not-- Too many rejections linger. To God she prays, He could suggest, If He wants. He would speak her name. In sadness she sits, longing to partake. Though she's never noticed, By those who cast the roles. She waits trusting, Her time will come. She will be allowed To be all that she can be. At least, that is the story So often told. To those who wait, His timing is perfect. To Him she clings. Hoping one day soon, Her time will join His And she will be set free. To LIVE, her life, to give-- for Him.

She had an old face, It told of a life hard lived. Still she smiled And shared the joy of doing. She had a young age, Her face told another story. The days had been more Condensed in time. The earth rotated on its axis, But her life spun out of control. The sun rose and set, Tragedy exploded the limits. Her children witnessed her decay, But now she claims no signs. Her form betrays, Her version of the story. Each shriveled dry wrinkle, Holds the volumes unsaid. She believes in the victory. God sees her as a beauty. Can her words portray truth? Does her body tell a lie? The regeneration of the soul Can it be reflected in the skin? Her eyes dart around. Struggling to focus. She is so busy everyday, Hours filled can be deceptive. She talks of prayer, She does so much, She knows the Word. Hollowness surrounds her being. Does she project the image? Spirit-filled - so her story goes. The connecting lines are crossed. Did they slip off the sourc...

Have you ever meet with a group of people but realized you were invisible? No one came to hear or talk to you. The agenda of the hearts had another purpose. You tried to belong, to join in, but your words were not valued or wanted. Did you wonder why? This poem is for anyone who has had such an experience and for those who want to step in others shoes. She sits at a table and talks, Ignored. She shares her life journey, Cutoff. Did you tell him blah blah blah? He needs to know blah blah blah. Eyes turn back to her Not there. The "other she" pretended to listen. Don't tell him to blah blah blah. He needs to just blah blah blah. She spoke her memories, Unheard. She exposed her life events, By gone. It is nice to met blah blah blah Let's pray blah blah blah. She stood to say goodbye, alone. She reached to give a hug, unloved. See you soon blah blah blah. Enjoyed meeting you both blah blah blah. She walked toward the door. Empty. Sh...

Being a survivor of child abuse doesn't seem to ever end in "she lived happily ever after again." I have made so much progress, but on days that I dip - frankly, I hate it: disassociation. The past few days I have felt like I was in my body but another person was controlling me - Miss. Edgy Depresso! I tried to hide in my bedroom because I didn't want to snap at anyone. I knew I was plunging; a few days ago I had my girlfriend pray for me. I know when things are not right; I feel it all over my body: heart races or pounds, blood vessels bulge in my hands, my arms feel like someone has punched them, and I am irritable. Yet, the worst symptom is feeling trapped inside my body and the mood--unable to snap out of it. All I can do is keep "bubble wrap" around me and try to lower any pressure or stimulus so I wont pop. I pass mirrors and see such a sad face; a shell; a flat affect - zombie lady. Where did I go? If this never happens to you, feel ble...

Alone - something that we never are,  but so often "alone" feels true. God says, "I will never leave you or forsake you," therefore, in reality I am NEVER alone. But ... But... We all have our own answers to what comes after that word. Sometimes when I feel as though I am trapped, stuck, can't get out...that I am alone. I want to adventure, I want to be with people who want to be with me, I want to see what is out there. But... Again, I am stopped. I have an exception. I have a pinnacle turning point that is specific to me. Forgery, formed of flesh and filled with my being. Yet I am floating in a quasi-plane of knowing. Dipped, spiraled, tumbled. Until I land in the cell, door slammed, key turned. Locked away--my penalty for surviving. Existing in the midst like a mirage, Any moment, the pendulum swings. Parallel worlds, simultaneously misunderstood. Strong, yet fragile. Brave, yet broken. Passioned, yet deflated. How do so ...

Sometimes we say, "my heart hurts," and we mean that we are in emotional pain. Of course that pain is very real, but I have had medication adjustments in the past few weeks and my physical heart is pounding differently. I feel it race some times; other times it just beats harder. I am not worried; I am confident my body will start working properly soon. (a few weeks - I hope not longer). Still it is uncomfortable, and I try to steady myself - to go a little slow, to not do things that might agitate me emotionally. It is hard to watch yourself so much, to be careful, to keep a buffer around you so that you don't get poked or tipped by others. It takes work, mental-emotional, and that can eventually be physically tiring. I simply want an easy life, simple days, happy times. Does anyone get that? Or is that a fantasy? I still believe that someone must, but those people probably don't care about others. They isolate themselves. They don't listen to the...

These words-this poem- came today because it has been a hard day, frustrating. A day when I keep blundering and still I never give up. All I know is to step in the presence of God and allow Him to fill me up every time I am bumped into and spilt over. An exercise in humility and grace. Type, Delete, Repeat Is the rhythm of my day. Gutting all I need, Makes me have to stay. Floodgates opening, Wear the dam away. Missing all I need, Help me Lord to pray. Million Chances- False start tries Feel the glances. Adrenaline slides. Go, Slushing, Relief Is the volume in my mind. Fighting to believe Keeps me close in time. Exhaust, Repenting Do you still see me? Taking all I need, From Your hand receive. Millions Chances- Lost in Gambles Move, E-vances Humbled pile of clay. Off the ledge I fall Into Your embrace. Trusting all I need, Supply me Thy GRACE! And I type, delete, repeat, Every step I take, Still I'm forwarding, Forwarding, I Sent Me. ...

Motherhood is a blessing - a gift from God, but it is also a very difficult job - particularly for woman who are adult survivors of child abuse. Great thoughts don't always become great reality. Often what I see in my head as being something sweet, meaningful and appropriate crumbs into a struggle, hurt feelings, offenses and never-gonna-happens. I can not tell you how many times this scenario has repeated that past 20 years. It still never gets easy to be part of this two-step dance that is more like a tug-of-wills. A heart slashing - never what it was intended to be - occurs. This poem was birthed out of such a time as this. Phone is ringing in my ears, My heart pounds, message clear. Why are people not listening, To the words - what they mean. I try talking to my child, It'll be good, I decide. But it blows up in my face Homemade cocktail Burns the place. I only longed to talk it out, Think about, what was said, I listened to the voice I heard Sympa...

Sometimes what stirs in the mind and soul spills out in a way that feels more like broken pieces found after a storm rips through a town. I am learning that allowing the free associations to come lightens the load I carry that can't find its place to compartmentalize. Humans need means to let go. Writing Poetry is my way. It isn't a picture of my current state of mind, but simply a dance of words, and expression of madness that is healthy, not harmful. Words released in wild display somehow is freeing and brings happiness. Sometimes I think we need to stop trying to explain. Hope is always found in knowing God and being in His presence. I listened to the thoughts in my head And noticed I was drifting. Seated behind the wheel of a car My soul watched me moving away. Is it because I am tired? Or am I coming unglued? I don't know, can't tell. Just familiar - what I used to do. Dissociation comes. Even when it isn't called. It shows up on it own. ...

I wrote this to be lyrics to a song... but I am not a musician. I don't write tunes, musics, etc. If someone can write a song for these words I would be so grateful. It is about a daughter abused by a father losing her mother because the mother chose to be with the father and give up her relationship with her daughter, but I could also see it from the eyes of a child of divorce going through a similar situation. I'm all grown up Still I bleed the wounds of a little child. I walk so brave, Trapped in the realities of could've beens. You choose him, Don't ever try to reach me again. Mom spoke to me, I offered the love of her little child. But she drift away, Fear called her back into his cave. You choose him, Don't ever try to reach me again. I close my eyes Trying to erase all that was done. I can not sleep, Torturous dreams sweep through my mind. You choose him, Don't ever try to reach me again. The bridge is gone, There is no ...

Tin gling fin ger tips  a  sig nal Ex tra sen sory in per cep tion. Ant sy for me, cob web think ing-- Map ping  across,  con necting  the dots  When the sky dims-- beams blare and blind. Sole slips up and down, rocking to no sound. Muf fled words rat tle on un turned. Bold O pin ions as sert ed as facts blurred. Gol den rings domed by ce les tial blues-- Calm my soul--peace re sides-- a day is done. Wor shipping  wa ter col ored dis plays, You are faith ful and true , see me through! Why do I doubt and won der -will I sur vive ? Eyes rise, be hold the white glow in the sky And a star or two looking down at me from You. Lindy Abbott

Incubator walls enclose my soul, Plexiglas plates seal off life. Windows to peer out. Others peer in, Passing, Running, Ignoring-- They never seem to notice. Hands pounding invisible bars Green grass growing outside Lives among the trees. Animals roam free. The world turns on its pole. I'm in my zone-- Shut out - closed in. No one heard my sounds. Breathing slowly Dying day by day. Shut out, closed in. Living a Charade. In the echo chamber, I howl cell to cell. Everyone is learning to play Life's game so well. Don't talk, drop it, seal tight the tomb. Mausoleum dwelling is where I am schooled And she doesn't make a sound. Haven't heard from her lately. Didn't see her in the silence. She was too exposed. Shiny Glass Reflection Viewing Xray smudges Everything is so visible In the glare of sunlight. Cut off, Keep Quiet. Why Can't she learn shame? Don't respond again. Maybe she'll go away. Ignore, star...