Shattered Glass Life After Abuse

 No one ever will know the horror of my childhood. No one could possibly understand. Unless you lived it, you haven't got a clue. No matter how much you try to relate you can't. So stop trying and pretending you do.  Respect people for what they have experienced and endured. Be grateful that you never did or will.  Love those who have been hurt deeply. They did nothing to you. Stop being cruel, and expecting more than they can give. These are shattered glass lives and you can not conceive what an abused person has been through.  You are sorry. They are sorry too. We are all sorry, even the asshole for a --for a second-- may pretend. But no one can begin to know the agony of a soul destroyed by utter evil and wicked twisted torment.  Just love, this person. Love them and respect them for what they have been through.  A broken soul has moments of healing but never truly becomes whole until the person passes on to eternity. And that is rest, joy, and "it-is-do...

A short poem reflecting on how we must lose something often if we want to gain. If we hold onto everything, we can grasp what is newly being placed into our hands or lives. Step by step, door by door, creak by creak, hear the floor. Window pain, Stops the beak Lying still, Not a peep. Pull my leg, Spoke a Word Raised my hair and felt, not heard. Make the sign, Of the cross Bless my soul, Gain from loss. I must die, To receive, No more blind, You believe.

How are you, dear People ask. They only see a Cold clay mask. Staring, peering, At the face. Dredging opens A hiding place. Scooping, dragging The riverbed. Repeating theme is Always read. Degree and value Mental states. Eyes are windows that negate. Linking be verbs Stay the same. She prefers her Maiden name. Doubting, query Certainty. Fine-grained earth layers Reality. Research answers Is the quest. Will she ever Pass the test?

Am I in a dream? It was so easy. I spoke, in final hope, Marveled, he heard me. What do you need? Suicide keeps coming. It wants me to go. It lurks at my soul. Tears pour continually, The faucet has a stream, The pressure's released, I get a reprieve. I cry for help. I cry for hope. Will this ever stop? Please help me cope. (photo credit: III by th0rvaldsen on deviantArt)

"Committed Suicide" Is how the death’s explained. Does suicide kill? Or should another be named? Where does it start? When death is what you see. Who is to be blamed? Who hung the crooked frame? Suicide results But not the real cause. Depression murders more Yet, no one knows her lore. It was this, it was that. He did, she did, they said. Where is the family? An unseen mystery. Looking for help, They lived invisible. There, but a shadow, An empty French chateau. Intoxicating drink, The thought of being free, Perverted justice, Innocence takes the fall. See her perishing, Remember her no more. Advancing in the ranks She never voiced complaints. Depression hides in smiles Worn upon the face Medicine for the soul Too thin, it left no trace. Depression kills. A sickness of the soul Continually, breaking down, A castle with no sound. The afflictions build The wounds scarless to view Distinctly took residence. Yet, selfishness ma...

It has been about a year since I have posted. (Whoa, no, I checked. It has been two years.) My parents died -- the only ones I ever had:  one allowed me to be horribly abused, and the other inflicted the torture. Then, a year after their death, I have been working full-time (amazingly) and have not had time to write. I am currently, finally, unemployed and doing a lot of reflecting. My work contract ended. I was very glad -- both that I was able to fulfill it and that it was over. I am mentally to the point that I can function in the world--society--and hold down a job. I suppose this is a good thing--though, I push myself to do it. I have considered that it might be an alter--a compartmental part of myself--that can function highly that has emerged. I say this because when I had a week off of work I rested. Then, when I had to return to work I began to freak out, becoming very suicidal in thought. I so badly did not want to return. However, I literally forced myself to do...

Intro: I write this from the mind-frame of someone who has suicidal thoughts. I do not have them today, but I write this to be informative and give insight so that if you have someone in your life you might be able to understand how they think or even if you yourself have suicidal thoughts you might be able to identify with some of them and know you are not alone. +++++++++++++++++++++++ Have you ever wished you were dead? I have. Some times these thoughts are far away and rarely cross my mind, but other times they cling by closely, hanging around like a sticky spider web that just won't shake off, junking up my thinking. Photo Credit: Katey Smothers Most of the time what proceeds suicidal feelings are thoughts and occurrences that make you think  that your life is little, your impact is little, that people do not move forward or upward by your existence but that you are a weight, a load, or a liability to the people you consider in your inner circle. When you see no...

Someone who loves me spoke words to me that hurt. She seemed rude. Her words felt like a slight, but the person said she meant it from a positive place through their experience and journey. We are chiseled in life etch by etch until will shine with light For her words matched her walk and experience and seemed a universal truth. But when one is a daughter of the King she must know first that God alone is the voice that must be obeyed and honored. Advice that seems good for all may not be in proper timing for each. I know that I myself make this error many times, more times than I will probably ever know. With God we have our own personal path, when surrendered we are letting him complete us in His own timing. It is easy to judge from the outward appearance but God sees the inward and deals on levels that are unseen usually to the observer. Comments made cut to the core, Often hit truth and carve us raw, Exposing what we know-- but are not Ready to receive, the timings wr...

Words can stab Words can pierce Make us bleed Not ready to receive Not spoken by the King Out of timing-- they seem mean. photo credit: written in blood by star95 deviantart Drip, drip, stab--pierce--bleed Therefore, when words hurt, We must forgive the one Who has spoken and Filter as received, covered In grace by His blood. Drip, drip, stab--pierce--bleed Well-meaners, do-gooders, Advice, without knowing That embraced acceptance Is always needed first. Love proceeds instruction. Drip, drip, stab--pierce--bleed Too soon, unready to receive. Dig deep to forgive, Photo Credit: Elyra Coacalia Deviantart Cover in grace, Filter in love, Please the King, An audience of One, Surrender alone to His lead. He will never cause you to bleed, But lead you to heal - In His timing. Drip, drip, stab--pierce--bleed You didn't know my need. You didn't live Through my life. Oblivious - Out of sight-- Two paths converge o...

Stop Don't Judge Me, You only see, Partially. photo credit - zeldabeast "innocence" DeviantArt Love God's eye view, He sees as few, Completely. Know I am seen, Naked and clean, Graciously. Love I must do Return to you Willingly. Hard Surrender Forgive, filter Lovingly. Grow All is used In grace, transfused. Healthily. Give Offering You A living sacrifice To my King.

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. ...

This is a very raw article. My transparency makes some people very nervous, but I have learned that knowing I am accepted by God is all that matters. I am not looking to be accepted by mankind or any particular individual. I am an unique person created in the image of God, just like you and every other human. What makes me a little different is that I was raised in a horrific childhood home and in order to recover I learned to face the good, the bad and the ugly in me to press into the pain and discover the beauty. I am not happy everyday, but I do try to be real. I wrote this one day when I was struggling: ____________________ Photo Credit: Katey Smothers I just want to die. So many times I have felt this way. Everyone else and certainly myself would be better off if I had never lived and if I no longer existed today. Still I wonder "What does it matter if I live or not?" Right now I feel: I am useless. I will never to able to do anything productive. No one wi...

I don't succeed in the long-haul at anything. I am a continual failure. Can you relate? Looking In I can see how Broken I am Oh, don't we all love the sayings about how nice it is to fail because that is the only way you will ever succeed; Or it is ok to fail as long as you fail forward; Or it doesn't matter how many times you fail as long as you keep trying to succeed? Well, can it not also be true that some people do not EVER succeed? So those cute little sayings about you might as well try because if you never fail you will never have a chance to succeed, can really get old. Especially when you have not had much success in life. Do you ever feel that way? So what have I done: I graduated high school, but amazingly so did everyone in my high school class. It was just what you did; you finished; you graduated. I went to college to be a psychologist. I was going to go to school for 8 years. But, ended up getting married after 3. So, I then went to school...

This is an inside look at someone who is going through a dissociative state. The thoughts are scattered and you will see various internal conversations. I wrote this many years ago and found it today on my computer. Today, I am no longer dissociative but I am amazed at what I wrote. I titled it Wires On a Bomb so I will leave it that way. #mental illness #dissociative #did Here it is: so much wiring within It is unstable - I know. Jittery, moving about ever so slight but it does not need much to explode. Can I figure out which wires to remove before its too late? Do I dare to try? No matter what I do--except to enter a catatonic freeze--will increase the possibility, the odds of its blast. So what does one do? Twisted, fragile, so not wanting to be at this moment, this point in time, this crisis ---again, again and again. Seconds feel like hours, and hours prolong like days...especially if you pause, to pray or gain some kind of controllable ease. I speak...

It is not always be choice, but sometimes it is. It is our choice whether we turn inward to pity and suffering or whether we open our soul to receive help. I did not ever ask for help. I feel terrible because I gave in to moping around all day and not eating things that would make me feel good. We have responsibility. Everyone can have a bad day. Hormones and chemicals that swirl around our bodies can get the best of any of us. I never used to give in to the pains of my cycle until I had a daughter that we pampered during her cycle. Yes, the pain is real and you do feel out of sorts, but what you make of the day is your responsibility. I am no spring chick. I turned 52 this week, but yesterday I gave into the cramps and hormonal pains of my monthly cycle. I never used to do this. I would push through. And it is okay to have a down day, but it is not okay to indulge in eating crummy and lying around like a mound of unshaped clay. A dear older friend of mine said it is okay ...

Handle it, I ask. But you find an excuse, You don't foresee the abuse. So I went, You stayed. Words spoken under breath, Drew me into another death. What I spoke, I regret. My response frustrated. Left painly irritated. Protect me, I asked. But you left me to walk Into the trap of my talk.

Window opened. It flew in. Pretended pretty, Helped to win. Less than one week, Turns to frost. Burnt and hurting Aches the loss .

I feel the tears upon my face, I know what I am feeling is real, in reality. The tears--they comfort me--I am human, I cry. Jesus came to earth as a man; He was human; He cried. Tears Rolling on one's face (tears are falling by sternenkindi on DeviantART) At times when I feel like the world is closing in, like I am not connecting or misconnecting with everyone, especially those dearest to me, little things like tears helps me to know that I am alive. When I see one reality and the world seems to see another; when I feel one reality and others feel another, I began to think maybe something is wrong with me. Why do I sense, feel and see what others do not? Why I am sensitive? So I ask to pray, offer to pray, want to pray with others, but I am told to pray alone. My prayers are not wanted. This hurts. I feel unloved, unwanted, rejected, misunderstood. It is like handing someone a gift and having it shoved back. I love prayers and being prayed for by others. I consid...

Icy surface fractured, Cracked fissures, broken, Again, In many places. Many things shape us - broken ice woman by killersmemo DeviantART Fragile, cold, and hard, Flat edges, touched-- Seeps  The one healing bleeds. Softened sometimes, Within, burning heat, Deep And Pressured without. Hear the same tune, Cycles the jukebox, Spins Playing the encore. The ice pick hits, Grates and shaves-- chips, Flakes, Chisel shapes the form. Purpose unseen is known, By One Mind Above, Works Together For Good. She skates across, A well-worn surface, Gone To make her own mark.

Fragile, Yet Strong. Or should it be, Strong, yet Fragile. Both apply to days, moments and seasons of my life. Surviving child abuse made me incredibly strong. I can survive almost anything. Pain is endured. Insurmountable odds are diminished, giving me a perpetual "I can do" attitude. I am able to bear up others, can handle crisis, can support teams, can dig in and do the hard, heavy, dirty work. I need little to sustain me. I know how to survive with minimal assistance. Independence, resilience, long-suffering. And still, Surviving child abuse has made me incredibly fragile. Unknown insignificant little things can pierce to my core and shatter me. I am left defenseless, exposed, incompetent. I am able to relate to hurting people, understand without words completely spoken. I feel and know and reason in randomness. I come along side, pray, and encourage because I have been broken. Delicate, sensitive, unpredictable. Two sides of the same coin - two f...