Shattered Glass Life After Abuse

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...

All My Own is a poem about dealing with wanting something for yourself when you have been deprived of so much. Asserting your needs, expressing your wants, are things that are normal human actions but after extreme neglect and abuse these supposedly simple times can be perplexing, emotionally draining and regardless of the end result you are left exhausted... so often are also the people in your life. By Narcoleptik on deviantART Guilt Crowds My Company. Selfish One wants all her own. Let me have it. Do not touch. Taking care of it. Eat my lunch. Isolated - stands alone. All forlorn, but she’s grown. It will burn in the end. Stubble and hay, they pretend. Let me have it. Do not take. Wanting some of it. Have some cake. Feelings hurt for a thing. Words just spent, left a sting. Babbled sounds were not heard. Growing anger is a verb. Let me have it. Do not leave. Biting upper lip. Watch it bleed. Never can some ...

Reading about Rick Warren's son's suicide "hit home" and made me think about a lot of things , therefore, I had to write. I am a survivor! I have been one since early childhood. I had to be or I would already be dead. I grew up in an abusive home and daily survived, escaping the hands of death, evil committed against the children by my father. I didn't understand why... why was I living? why was I allowed to go through all the abuse? why didn't I have good parents, parents who loved me? why did I not get to be a little girl? why was life so hard for me? why could I never get a break? why did no one help me? why did every time I seemed to get ahead something would fall apart? why was the government not able to stop my father? why would he not die? why did my mother allow it? why did she not leave? why did no one stand up to him? why did every adult pretend nothing was happening? why did everyone forget, pretending nothing happen? why ...

The preacher says we are all the body of Christ...that each member is necessary, a part that functions in unison with all others, but God, in this life--in our time spent on earth--in present day local churches, this is not really true. It sounds good, repeated over and over, because the Bible says so and therefore we all should. But churches seek the best, the ones that fit their mold, the ones who meet their mission, the one that helps their goal. They keep track of numbers, saving all the souls, running them through baptism, collecting them in the fold. But those of us with broken parts, not shiny like the rest, we hear what no one else hears, we feel words with our soul, we sense when something isn't right, therefore we get left out in the cold. Who wants to work with such a pain, she is trouble where she goes, she stirs the pot and sifts for truth, she sees the thorns and not the rose. Why can't she just be silent, "if you don't like...