Oct 082016
 

The thoughts in my head muddled up and I sounded like an episode of Gilmore Girls where everything makes sense if you listen, I mean really listen, but that type of thought easily can come across as manic -even when it’s not. It’s just that -thoughts. They need a way to escape sometimes and that means typing 100 words a minute or speaking so fast that my words are muddled together and I am rewriting the dictionary as they flow from my tongue jumbled and broken like my tongue has been possessed by the infamous Dr Seuss.

It’s like my desk. To anyone who is told to find something on my desk they would likely stand there staring in a near panic unwilling to touch anything, yet I can navigate it with my eyes closed, a chat window or two open, the phone ringing and telling the animals to be quiet so I can hear.

What appears to be a muddled mess is often an organized truth. Perhaps this is why there are Bible versions now that are written chronologically, so they make sense to the people whose brains need the timeline and the order that escapes them the way a cleared surface paralyzes me leaving me wondering what to do.


I tend to have a lot to say and the reason is because I don’t want to think. Thinking brings back flashes of pain and transports me back to a place where a simple word hurts or Job can be read as a suicide letter. Being in my head is hard work, even for the thoughts. So instead they spew out of me like the possessed girl from The Exorcist with her head on backwards, levitating while spewing shades of evil from her mouth.

I don’t want to be a shade of evil.

I often fear that I am.

And, that’s when the thoughts get muddled. When I am asked to go to bed because I don’t feel well or I am extra tired and the past has snuck in and I ask “am I being punished?” or utter the words “but I wasn’t being bad.”

No, sweet child, you weren’t bad, you are tired. 11 years since escaping and the thoughts still blend together and I get trapped in an inbetween that most can’t comprehend. The words “get over it” are hell to the ears and sting harder than any whip could, causing the holes in my soul to gape open and spill out of me, like a gutted deer during hunting season, and I pray that I am not the prey while secretly feeling like I am always the one in the crosshairs.

I crave the gentle caress of being lain down on fresh sheets, with eyes half closed and blankets pulled up over me tightly. The kiss to my forehead being all I need to know I am loved, safe and that tomorrow will be alright. Because, even when tomorrow is horrible it becomes yesterday fast…

Oct 072016
 

My faith has been through the wringer lately, and I may have been failing the test, letting myself fall, letting the world step in the way, letting myself give in to things I know not to do. And yet, here I am writing as part of this crazy group and I feel the cradle around me, knowing that like the prodigal son, I am always welcomed back, a feast is prepared and my presence is worth a celebration to the One true Father -our Father, yours and mine!

How wonderful to be His. To come back from the darkness and see His Light brightly shining at the end of what seemed like driving a tunnel in a car that has broken headlights. Yet, I know it is easy for me to break, shatter into a billion pieces and watch the scars scab over but never really go away.

You can glue the mirror back together again, but it never reflects the same. It’s always more fragile than it was before and the tiny shards that we couldn’t pick up and see leave scarred cracks where the glue resides, a wholeness that isn’t really complete and as best as I try to be whole I have to accept that I am only as whole as I am in Christ and that while my tests may be failed, and I may fail this journey called life, I will one day be wholly whole, in His divine presence as I am greeted at the pearly gates and welcomed into the Heavenly realm.

A compilation of 150 blog posts from the Five Minute Friday Community. The stories found in these pages span a diverse range of experiences, but share a common thread: A Love For the Bravely Written Word.
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Oct 062016
 

You look at me with cupped hands
Your thumbs wipe away the tears that slip from my eyes without my permission
You whisper ‘baby it’s okay’
And, I know it will be.

Because, You created this day.
You knew the saltine water that would spill from my eyes
You knew as I struggled to catch my breath the word to escape my lips would be ‘sorry’
I have no reason to be sorry, I am Yours.

I grip onto Your hands and feel the holes in broken flesh and know that my scars are Yours
That as you hung on the cross You were working to purify and heal my inevitable sins.
With the flash of a light You knew from the start that this is how love would truly begin.
And, the Earth trembled as the Father eagerly awaited You at those Holy gates.

I wait on my charges just the same.
That they would walk through the door with lessons learned, full of Love and soul-y unscathed
I have to place their hands in Yours because it is You who holds life’s script
Like me, I know they too will trip.

You reach out that broken-scarred hand and raise us up from the depths
You show us that blind-faith is the only faith
That the answers are predestined, defined
That Your ordination is Love of the purest kind.

A compilation of 150 blog posts from the Five Minute Friday Community. The stories found in these pages span a diverse range of experiences, but share a common thread: A Love For the Bravely Written Word.
$12.99 USD

Aug 152016
 

Why I write is definitely linked to my past. As many of you may know from hanging around through my ups and my intense downs I have been through a TON in my short life. Most of which was very traumatic. I suffer greatly from PTSD and a boat load of the side affects it comes with, like depression, severe anxiety, insomnia, suicidal thoughts, panic, and even self harm.

I have seen a dozen doctors/therapists/counsellors and I am on about a dozen different medications, all of which to help calm me down and hopefully help me to prevent the above symptoms, from getting worse than they are on a “normal” day.

However, along the broken-road I started to ask these very people who were set out to help me how they grew up, what their trauma’s are and I was shocked and felt more alone than ever when EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM told me that they have no experience with trauma but they are “trained to help trauma victims.”

One recommended after the loss of a baby that I go be like a “deer” and grieve in the woods for a few hours, literally shake it off and move on because that’s what animals are born to do. Just shake it off.

Unfortunately, I am not a deer, and unfortunately, I have been in a stopped vehicle while watching a gopher panic as it’s dead spouse lay in the middle of our highway, watching him run back and forth not quite sure what to do, trauma and sadness in the gophers eyes. Finally as he realized we weren’t going to hurt him he grabbed up the one he loved and pulled her crushed body off to the side of the road and into the woods. I am guessing he didn’t shake it off, he was too shaken up.

My heart broke for him as I sat there with a stream of tears remembering my own losses pouring down my cheeks.

I started to write. Not because I felt like what I had to say was of any importance, but because keeping it all in was literally killing me. My heart with an irraddic beat and requiring meds, my body shutting down, the blood stained razor adding another scar or two or three almost nightly. I needed to get the thoughts out of my head, whether they made sense or not.

Years later I call this a brain dump. Where I just open up a word document and let the words flow with no rhyme or reason, or I open a page in my journal and do the same. It’s unfortunate that most of my writings and ramblings are inspired or prompted by pain but it’s my hope and my prayer that in sharing my intimate thoughts, fears, frustration and deep love for Christ that someone who is sitting in a similar situation may find hope, or comfort in knowing they aren’t alone.

Their doctor may never have lost a baby or been raped, or experienced a trauma that they are willing to share, but I am, and its sad and scary how many have reached out to me to tell me they have been raped too, so many men have told me they were abused as a child after reading my words, some of whom claim they have never told anyone. I love that my hurt is allowing other people to hand their pain over and share in it and be understood rather than feeling alone and lost.

I believe the statistics are that 1 in 3 women are sexually abused at some point and 1 in 10 men. Of course those numbers aren’t accurate because they are based on what’s reported and I can sadly say that it is more like 9/10 people have been sexually assaulted or abused in some form at some point in their lives, whether it was a full fledged rape, molestation or something that made them feel uncomfortable, the line was crossed and 90% is simply too high.

Yet I am eager to learn and to listen and to offer guidance when the person asks.

So I write not only to cleanse my own brain of the pain that has plagued my soul since I was that 12 year old cold in the snow, but I write for those who have never shared and for those who have never been hurt and want to understand what they can do to support the ones in their lives who have been hurt.

I write because it protects me from myself.

I write because it’s a documentation of where I have been and where I never plan to go again.

I write because it’s my pained poetry, a tortured prayer where I know that God can see my soul through the blackness that often covers my heart and He can and will provide me with peace.


Jul 182016
 

I had no date this weekend, meaning, me and my boy didn’t go out together. He did go and play tennis with his uncle though. I have never seen two peas in a pod until I see those two. They read the same books, play the same games, fight over the broccoli, love the same sports and even wear their hair the same -shaved. The only real difference is about 16 years. It is nice that my little man gets to have man time with someone who pushes him and encourages him, even when they both come home starving and sweaty.


My back pain has been brutal this past month. I don’t know what’s going on with my body. Pain meds aren’t touching the pain much, just making me feel semi-stoned, and the feedback on that from family is “you are seriously annoying” and “can you please talk slower?” I have no desire to go to the doctor or wait on new tests or to try new meds… I feel so over all of this, throwing in the towel really feels like the best option right now. Just saying screw it to my body and continuing to try and be active on days I can be, take care of myself the way I have been and taking my supplements.

I started an old antidepressant again. I quit it back in February but with my emotions being so whacked and my pain being so crazy we decided to try it again, since it not only helps with the insanity but is also proven to be helpful with some types of pain. The parts that suck though is that it is another medication. I take sooo many pills every day not including my supplements or pain killers and it’s just frustrating. I want to be off of my meds so I can get pregnant and not worry about hurting a baby, or travel without worrying about refills, or worrying about whether or not I should be driving. I miss normalcy, though, I don’t think I have ever actually had normal. I have always had pain, starting when I was about 12 and I have struggled with my mental health since I was raped when I was 12, though, I never began medications until I had post partum depression and then really started meds when I was diagnosed with PTSD after escaping a severely insane relationship.

Jul 072016
 

They are just trying to build their lives, build their family, have children together alongside the ones that she brought into the relationship all those years ago. And while we aren’t close, at all, maybe seen each other a half dozen times since we were little kids playing cops and robbers with toy handcuffs, my heart is still broken for him, my cousin, yet again. He has had a rough few years.

He was in a plane crash that he narrowly survived a few years back, on that day I was complaining to my mom that everything smelled like fuel, she said I was crazy until the email came saying his plane had went down and that an old boyfriend of my aunts, from 30 years ago, had saw the rainbow on a small lake of fuel and being the nosey man he is he swooped down to get a closer look only to see part of a pontoon sticking out of the water with a body on it, my cousins body. The family friend, Jake, was in a plane too large to land and my aunt and uncle were on the radio trying to find their son when Jake called for someone with a small plane for help. Some American tourists with a small plane were able to make the landing in that tiny remote lake and help my cousin off that pontoon into their plane and back into the sky to meet the ambulance at the docks. His neck was broken, his thumbs nearly amputated from trying to pull the plane up when he crashed and chemical burns from him laying partly in the water with all that fuel and oil pouring out and burning his flesh away. Praise God his neck was able to be fixed and he didn’t suffer any paralysis or anything like that. A lot of healing though and it’s been probably five years and he still hasn’t got his pilots licence back, his thumbs have been the biggest problem.

Since then he has went on and continued with the woman who stood by him during all of that healing, and all the years before that, and they had a baby girl, named Aurora. Only, Aurora was born directly into the hands of God. They were trying to build a family and God is building Himself an army of angels. It was close to the due date for little Aurora when the placenta broke free and before they could get to a hospital the baby had passed and the mama almost did too.


Now its been a few more years since that happened and I had a vivid dream about a caesarean going very wrong. When I went to tell my mom about the dream she was reading an email saying Aurora’s little sister was also in Heaven. I didn’t even know they were expecting another baby, I guess when you have experienced the pain of losing one you might want to be hushed about another just in case. They had a scheduled c-section planned and their little girl whose name I don’t know, was moving fine and had no reason for concern, but when they arrived for their c-section they couldn’t find a heartbeat. They did an emergency delivery and couldn’t revive the baby. And another little soul was born right into the arms of God.

My cousin though? In his building a family and a career as a pilot and all of that feels like the world just keeps knocking him out of the sky and while I sit here and cry over a baby I didn’t even know existed until the other day when she was already gone he is struggling with drinking and drugs and finding any way he can to dull the pain of living, and living comes with a lot of pain.


And somehow my vivid dreams have always mimicked life. I have been accused of killing because I dreamed it, the first time at the age of 9 when my cousin took his life in our back yard, found splayed after three days missing, at the bottom of a cliff. I was blamed because I had said he was going to die about 3 months earlier when he had crashed a truck after my great uncles funeral, and that blame has never left me.

So when my cousin crashed his plane and I was being haunted by the odor of fuel and couldn’t figure out why until I got the news I felt like had I not smelled that smell that he would still be flying.

My dream the other afternoon during a nap about a caesarean gone wrong left me feeling like if I hadn’t fallen asleep, she would have been born safe and healthy and alive.

My sanity is lost and I have no clue where to search, and I don’t think I want to, because like I said, life hurts, especially when you blame yourself for things out of your control based solely on the fact that someone decided to place the blame on you when you were a child instead of accepting responsibility for their own child.

I have been a mess, I am a mess. I don’t know if I am coming or going and I have pulled into myself, far in because exposing the flesh wounds leaves me open to judgement and battle scars and frankly, I don’t have enough unscarred flesh left to successfully go to battle again.

So maybe I am throwing in the towel, or maybe it’s like the Mr. says and that I am not the cause of the problems, I just feel them and see them in a way that most people can’t. It’s hard to say, but I don’t know if I want to risk it. I don’t know if I want to get close to anyone or anything if all that I am going to experience is a painful hurt and a loss.

You see, you can build up walls instead of bridges to peace and you can be isolated and alone or you can build that bridge and put yourself in the cross hairs of the man with a fully automatic weapon. Maybe Trump is right with his wall. Maybe isolation is the best way to protect yourself, your body, your soul, your heart. Maybe if we all place that figurative wall around us the billions of emotions flying through the air won’t hit so hard, or at all. Maybe they will bounce off my imaginative force-field and leave me alone.

Alone with my thoughts, my anger, my depression, my sadness and hurt. Alone to wonder and hope and to pray and to hide. Alone to not love because if I embrace the olive branch then I am guaranteed that new pain will eventually follow.

Maybe some of us should be alone, because loneliness is what’s best for everyone.

Jul 032016
 

It’s almost midnight when I am writing this, but letter late than never. I have to say today was a fairly big flop. I woke up this morning in pain and ended up going back to sleep after taking some meds for that. I was up again at 1 for more meds and then slept until almost 5.

In the meantime while I was out like a light, my dad was cleaning the carpet in my daughters room. She has allowed her dog to pee on it so much that her room stinks, seriously stinks.

Tonight, we had a simple dinner, spaghetti and garlic bread. The weather was grey and rainy and the humidity was a lot higher than it was yesterday. I got the table and chairs all wiped down and dishes done. Definitely not an epic day.

Had the dogs out and fed at around 8 tonight and then I went to shut the tv off in the room my daughter was sleeping in to find that the brand new mattress she had borrowed had been peed through by her dog, and of course she denied it despite her having slept on the couch the last several nights, using laziness as an excuse.

I can definitely say I am extremely disappointed in her for that one. Had she been honest about it the mattress wouldn’t now be ruined and yet another thing wouldn’t be going to the landfill, and my wallet wouldn’t be taking a hit to get rid of it or to replace it, but it is.

The sad thing is that I know her dog is not very well mannered, and that’s okay. What’s not okay is the need to lie and hide this type of stuff. It kills any trust I had and it feels like just when we begin to get to an okay place lies pile on and we end up back in this place where I don’t trust her or believe her, and that sucks, it REALLY sucks to not trust your child, especially with things that are seemingly so basic.

I picked up the dishes in my room after that and washed those up and added the new things that had piled in the sink to the dishwasher.

I have been in bed most of the day and now that it’s midnight I am guessing I won’t be getting anything more done.



It was nice having dinner with the family, nice that it was Canada day on Friday and my brother has been able to come for dinner the last three nights in a row, awesome that we were able to grill out for two days and awesome that some of the stuff needing to get done has been completed.

Definitely hoping tomorrow is a better day and that I can get my pain under some sort of control and get things done around here. I am also excited to check on the tomato plants, they were blooming like crazy yesterday but I didn’t take the chance to go and see them today to know if they are showing signs of fruit!

Also, fresh strawberries are amazing and it is really awesome to be able to pluck them off the plant and eat them knowing that while they may have dirt there are absolutely no chemicals on them or used to help them produce.

I am always amazed by how God provides, and yet He never lets me down!

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