Shattered Glass Life After Abuse

I am hurt. I am angered. I take Psychiatric Medication. I don't take it because I WANT to take it. I take it because it is the one thing in the world that I have found to stabilize my body and mental functions. People whose body functions normally can shrug off or reject this medication as simply 'all in the mind' and not really necessary. (Sure you can because it doesn't effect you personally. You know not what you speak about.) But people like me - who have tried everything - who have suffered greatly - more deeply than most will  ever be able to understand or even empathize with. People who function completely by their mental and physical strength - often known as willpower-  look at others who can't as weak or less of a persons. But NO, it is quite the opposite! Someone who is willing to face their own weaknesses and able to go completely against the stigma and strong current of accepted social and religious philosophy, and to squarely mak...

It has been a long time since I have written a post in Shattered Glass Life. This is like my personal cave - where I let out my secrets of secrets - the raw rumblings that are ugly sometimes, hateful, and other things that socially trained people know they must hide from the world and often even from themselves. I AM SO ANGRY! I am in pain. I am hurting so deeply, feeling like I have been stabbed in the emotional heart by the sharpest of points. He aimed rightly and pierced me in the most delicate place of my feeling heart. I now know why I don't allow anyone to get in - to release myself to fully embrace another living soul with undying love. When the one you love is careless with the delicate gift you have entrusted them with, when they speak words or even worse speak nothing at all - void of emotion - Oh, I have a hurting heart. Not like the broken and shattered one of my childhood, the emptiness of never having been loved, the brokeness of being beat so many tim...

I want to help others but I can't help myself. I love and know God and trust Him too, but that doesn't stop my brain from being a jumbled mess.  Jumbled thoughts can be pretty! Scattered thoughts keep bombarding me.  I feel like a rattle-head.  I think I wrote once about this before, being a rattle-head . And it was the least-read post...Even I couldn't relate to it much after the episode passed. I have cried out to God for help this morning and for the past two days. I have gone to others for prayer and carefully, with exercising great inner control tried to explain to my family of three teens and my dear husband (I almost didn't want to say dear, oh, how hard it can be on a marriage--to twirl out of control and to not know why or how to make the top stop spinning). I don't know what pushed the top into its first spin.  And that is part of the problem I can't think clearly. I can't remember even simple things.  It is like the f...

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...

Rest is were life begins. Sit. Rest. Live. We can busy ourselves in life.... eating, cleaning, watching, texting, reading, writing, shopping, meeting, doing..... and never ever find life. Life is not what we make up it to be. Life is a gift - we only start living when we learn how to rest. As long as we lug around our hurts, our violators, our nemeses, our broken heart, our shattered dreams, and our mess.... we will never be able step into living life as it was initially meant to be for us. The life would should and could be living now! The only way to find rest is in God. Haven't  you tried so many other ways?  People do try so hard.... before they turn to God they try almost everything... or else they sit in a catatonic dullness of nothingness. Depressed. Exhausted. Near Dead. Cry out to God! Run to Him. Fall into His arms and His presence. In God, you will find rest for your weariness. God is real! Look around... everything you see... it is like livin...

The scarf around my throat ... I thought about it... I wanted to hang myself, to end it all, to make this stop happening. I don't want to hurt others, to respond inappropriately, to make people cry. Why can't I just shut up? Why can't I stop talking? If only I never said a word, it would help so many times and so less people would be hurt. I really don't say anything that consistently helps. I write better than I speak anyone. I long for it, but don't think I can do it. I wish my voice would be taken away. To never scream again. To never say another painful word. To never push into a conversation. To just listen and be silent. A failure is how I often feel. I feel worse..I feel less... Why did He allow me to be made? Why knowing the future let it happen... the sperm meet up with the egg... the child to be formed in my mother's womb? If He could see the number of my days, He knows me through and through why allow someone to be made so that they can be to...