I am #Voiceless

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May 292017
 

The pen and the paper have met many times over the last weeks, but the cursor continues to be cursed, blinking tauntingly at my weathered soul, begging for me to reveal to the world the depths of the holes that penetrate so far and wide that not even light can traverse the jagged mass.

Every breath I take hurts my soul, knowing its breath that I no longer want. My pain in my body can be dulled by the medications, but the pain in my soul has nowhere to go, nothing to take it away. I find myself in doubt. Questioning existence, torture, pain and beg the question why?


I’ve searched psychology books, history books, the Bible and my own faith and all that stands out to me is when Job says, “I have no rest, for trouble comes” because trouble always comes.

Only, now I ask myself, am I the trouble? Am I the cause of the pain? Do I bring this hurt upon myself? Do I beg it into my life instead of goodness and strength? Have I subconsciously killed away the children that once grew in my womb? Washing them out to punish myself… Can the subconscious mind even do that? Can mind really kill matter? Can mind end the life of another, stop the heart from having another beat?

Did I do this to myself? I can’t help but believe I did.

I deserve to be punished. I deserve to hurt. I deserve to choke on the tears of grief that can no longer be swallowed back. “I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel”, and the saddest part is I often don’t.

I am reckless. I am on the edge of a cliff unable to step back from the dangerous edge and begging to be pushed forward into the ending gravitational pull.

No one understands me because I simply don’t understand myself.

Life with depression, anxiety, and feeling like your value is only held in the hands of others is no way to live at all. Some days, I wonder if I am living at all. Most days I know I am not.

Mar 182017
 

I sat there at the table in the rec center with a pencil borrowed from my child and the back of my grocery list, jotting down two poems in about 10 minutes while dealing with people inquiring about what we were doing there. I was just the chaperone as this was the kids gig, but I answered questions and handed out free things just the same.

The nausea is still plaguing me whenever it feels like it and the exhaustion and fatigue are definitely assaulting me. Vivid dreams in full colour are sticking with me through the days and laughing until I am crying or crying until I am laughing are also becoming a new normal.

But, today, the words flowed from me in a poetic prose that I had missed. The pain and sadness that lives deep within my soul, was eager to hit the slip of paper and is currently tucked inside my wallet. As I read the words aloud to the child who loves to listen to rap and lyrics full of suffering and pain I heard the words “that’s deep and really good. If I didn’t know you, it would almost be scary, almost.”

You see, I have a dark side, a side riddled with past pains, abuse, rape, physical and emotional neglect and loss. My dark side often finds its way out when its pen on paper, never rehearsed or even edited, just the need to hold a pen to paper and write the words that flow, whatever they may be.

I often wonder to myself, how do people who don’t write deal with their dark side? Surely, I am not the only one who has this. Certainly, I am not the only one with a tumultuous past.

I believe in God. I believe I am redeemed. I believe that Christ has already bore my sins and that I am saved. I believe that my faith is more than sufficient and yet I am human and the darkness still lives within the broken cracks of my once shattered soul. You see, you can glue a mirror back together, no matter how many pieces, but the reflection will never be the same. While Christ is the glue that strengthens me, and has rescued me from the past, it doesn’t mean the past never happened.

I love deeply and wholly with all that I am. I don’t trust easily. I break often. I hide the pain behind a smile. I am content in just ‘being’ and in knowing that the present doesn’t last forever and that what comes tomorrow will be history the following day. I’ve learned that I have to be my own best friend so that I can live the life God would have me lead.

Mar 052017
 

I’m all alone, when the sun, goes down
What I wouldn’t give, to have someone around
The nights are endless, and dreams, are few
But when they come, well they never come true
And so it goes
No one even knows, the pain behind the smile
How all the while I’m cryin’
SAVE ME…..SOMEONE SAVE ME
SAVE ME…..SOMEONE SAVE ME
‘CAUSE I’VE BEEN SAVIN’ MYSELF FOR HER TOO LONG’
IT’S TIME I’M MOVIN’ ON
Won’t you save me?
Too many memories in this, old town
My face turned up to meet the rain..the rain that’s fallin’ down
Let it come
And so it goes
That no one even knows, the pain behind the smile
How all the while I’m dyin’
SAVE ME…..SOMEONE SAVE ME
SAVE ME…..SOMEONE SAVE ME
‘CAUSE I’VE BEEN SAVIN’ MYSELF FOR HER TOO LONG’
IT’S TIME I’M MOVIN’ ON
Won’t you save me?
Are you gonna be the one to make it right, or am I only dreamin’
Baby am I dreamin’?……Am I dreamin’?
No one even knows, the pain behind the smile
Whoooooh…baby, baby, baby, baby-they don’t know
They don’t know…that I’m cryin’ all the while
All the while
Somebody save me….save me
Save me……somebody save me (Mm Mm)
Save me…..save me
Save me…….someone save me
‘Cause I’ve been saving myself for her too long
It’s time I’m movin’ on
Won’t you save me….save me
Can’t you see…..that I’ve been lonely?

 

This weekend was a crazy one, lots of random things happened, and the one I least expected was seeing a message on Facebook saying that a girl I had talked to the night before was in ICU and wasn’t likely to make it, followed quickly by the announcement of her death.

I guess I was one of the last to talk to her as her brother reached out to me, which I am grateful for, unfortunately, I couldn’t tell him she was in a bad state the night before or that she seemed to be depressed or in a frame of mind that would make me think that our conversation was one that would be our last.

We spoke about how we were doing, mentally. She had done some amazing things in the past year, leaving her husband and other toxic relationships, delivering a healthy baby (her third child), getting a job and being the caregiver and breadwinner and even trying to reconnect with family while seemingly getting a hold of her own demons. She lost around 50lbs and looked amazing. Her frown had turned to a smile and her cynicism had for the most part became a sort of comic relief rather than what appeared to be a distress call.

So, what went wrong?

The pain behind the smile.

That’s what went wrong.

We had spoke about how being happy was a frightening thing because when you deal with mental health issues there is often a crash after a bout of happiness. She said “it’s like you’re jinxing yourself”. She was dead about 18 hours later.

After talking to me her posts on Facebook stopped. She was a chronic poster but I thought nothing of it since I don’t use Facebook that often for searching through posts. I only noticed this afterwards.

I have spent the last 30ish hours wondering if our chat was her being happy because she had made the decision to end her life and felt free for the first time. Did she talk to me that night because she was in her own way saying goodbye?

I’ve known far too many people who have committed suicide. I’ve attempted it many times myself, but I have never been among the last to speak to someone before their demise. I can’t honestly say how I feel, shaken is about the only word that comes to mind.

At first, I was worried about her three sweet babies, what will happen to them? Who has them? Did they find her? What did they see? Will the older two remember her?

Then I felt a sadness within myself, not because she was gone, but because I will be missing out on having someone around who often understood the darker side. Who was eager to seek the Lord and often confused by it during times of struggle.

A quote I have on my Facebook talks about how when one commits suicide it is really the first time that they have taken hold of control of their lives. After experiencing suicides through my whole life, I still believe that.

“If I commit suicide, it will not be to destroy myself but to put myself back together again. Suicide will be for me only one means of violently reconquering myself, of brutally invading my being, of anticipating the unpredictable approaches of God. By suicide, I reintroduce my design in nature, I shall for the first time give things the shape of my will. ”
~Antonin Artaud~

Unfortunately, it’s a painful ending to those of us left to figure out the pieces, never mind pick them up. Then again, there never really is a good time to die, whether your 102 or 22… There really, never is “unfinished business.”

Sometimes, our stories become more powerful when we have a powerful departure from this earth into our heavenly realm. I believe that will be the truth for this dear lady. Because, “The dead are not lost to us. They speak to us everyday” -unknown

Oct 202016
 

I’ve reached this sort of burn out that I didn’t know I could get if I wasn’t post-partum. This exhaustion that cuts into the marrow of my bones and sucks me dry. A weekend, the kind where you relax and have happy family time isn’t in the foreseeable future, but when is it when you have teens?

Between teens wandering off and sports I am beginning to believe I live in the car. My autoimmune issues are in a constant flare-up, my allergies are beginning to feel like a disease and I have literally dangled by my hair from the seatbelt trying to escape the all-wheel drive jail cell.

I should be grateful for all that I have, and in actual fact, I am. I know that I have far more blessings than so many people in this world but that doesn’t change that I am falling asleep everywhere, not sleeping when I need to, and have a to-do list a mile long with worry on my mind and pain in my soul.

I actually look forward to a Monday now because that means the hectic weekend is over and that I can check off some of those boxes and try to detox my soul by sinking into the Word while allowing it to sink into me.

Don’t ever ask a stay at home mama what she does all day, because it is really exhausting, even if you are healthy.

Oct 192016
 

This song has been a favorite of mine by Evanescence for years. I love the way they express the pain inside of my brain and that longing to be noticed while craving to go unnoticed all at the same time. PTSD is hard. Wanting to disappear has become a part of who I am. Knowing someone has felt the same, or close enough to have written the words and designed the music helps me to realize that my broken-self isn’t alone.

“Missing”

Please, please forgive me,
But I won’t be home again.
Maybe someday you’ll look up,
And, barely conscious, you’ll say to no one:
“Isn’t something missing?”

You won’t cry for my absence, I know –
You forgot me long ago.
Am I that unimportant…?
Am I so insignificant…?
Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t someone missing me?

[Chorus:]

Even though I’m the sacrifice,
You won’t try for me, not now.
Though I’d die to know you love me,
I’m all alone.
Isn’t someone missing me?

Please, please forgive me,
But I won’t be home again.
I know what you do to yourself,
I breathe deep and cry out,
“Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t someone missing me?”

[Chorus]

And if I bleed, I’ll bleed,
Knowing you don’t care.
And if I sleep just to dream of you
I’ll wake without you there,
Isn’t something missing?
Isn’t something…

[Chorus]

Oct 182016
 

Growing up my cousins were our neighbours on two sides. We played and shared and went frog hunting and tadpole catching in the ponds on our property. We ice skated with neighbour kids in winter and then one spring when I was 9 the police came and searched and searched some more for my older cousin who went missing.

They found his body 3 days later at the bottom of the highest cliff about a kilometer into our backyards, across the highway. They said that he had no stomach contents and that he had likely only been dead a few hours.

The official cause of death was suicide, the unofficial was blunt force trauma to his skull, presumably as he fell. How a 17 year old goes without food or water when a corner store and unlocked houses are within shouting distance, for several days never sat well with me. It didn’t sit well with the retired police chief who offered to look into it as a homicide and it didn’t sit well with my grandpa either.

My aunt and uncle didn’t want the help though, so the ruling was as is and the priest denied my cousin his last rites, because you can’t receive more than a blessing if you have taken your own life.

I tended his grave for years, going and wiping the fresh cut grass from the stone and making sure the solar light I bought was still lighting at night, the shepherds hook it hung on something I knew would help guide him to the Light and keep him there.

I don’t believe that suicide is a sin. I know a lot of people do, including the church. I have faith in a God who does not punish those who are mentally ill, and if you have ever been depressed or suicidal you know that there is no such thing as “rational” when in that state of mind. The act of suicide isn’t to cause pain, it’s a final and desperate attempt to end your own.

Whether suicide or homicide I have prayed that as my cousin flew to the ground below that he felt no fear, only peace and maybe even a moment of joy knowing that this act was the pathway to freedom from what we call life.

Jul 262016
 

As I sit here loading the word document to write I notice that the sky outside looks like cotton candy and I spring to life at 9:30pm wearing my pj’s and grabbing my camera once again to capture a couple of glimpses of the sky that God painted just for me.


I have seen a lot of amazing sky’s out of this window while sitting on my bed. It’s amazing how different it can look from window to window only to be the same exact moon and stars that we all get to see. It is fun to talk to a friend 18 hours away and both be looking at the moon or hunting down the big dipper. Somehow the universe as we are able to see it, seems so big, and I feel so small and yet I know that my place in this world is exactly where I was created to belong.


I’ve been feeling more like me than I was at the beginning of the month. I think it’s fair to say I was having some sort of mini-breakdown, if they can be mini… I think I had a dozen or more cold showers in the midst of panic attacks over nothing, almost always in the night.


The past week I have been picking up the pieces here and there. I am still behind but things are getting done. I’ve been dusting and vacuuming and lighting candles again. Cleaned off some surfaces, switched my purse to a different one for the first time in a couple of years, and I even made myself iced coffee. When I am feeling bleh I don’t drink coffee for the most part, so having a homemade iced mocha made me feel human and gave me a good 14 grams of protein along with the caffeine!


I am currently burning a blueberry scented soy candle that is tucked inside of my REDEEMED holder, reminding me that “Everything is beautiful in its time” and that while I fell behind on household tasks there is no reason that I can’t just hop right back in and tidy up and do what I can while doing my best to take care of myself and not risk burn out again. You can check out DaySpring for inspirational home décor, cards and so much more. I have purchased most of my décor from them as well as a purse and makeup travelling bag! You can also earn up to 6% cashback through my Swagbucks link and right now you can save an additional 25% sitewide during the customer appreciation sale with coupon code THANKYOU

I LOVE these wooden letters and this Bible cover has enough space for me to tuck in extra papers, small bible studies and so much more!


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