Shattered Glass Life After Abuse

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 ...

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...

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 ...

 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...

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...