This has been an emotional and triumphant week for me. I never imagined that I would be in this particular place. On Wednesday I was asked to be a guest speaker for a small group. I was asked to simply share my story and was told that many of the women attending would benefit from this. I spoke to a group of women (and 2 men) and told them my story. I told them about this life, this pain, this fear and this healing. It was terrifying to speak to strangers so openly…to lay my heart open to them and trust that they would handle it with loving-kindness. The response was over-whelming. I was so moved by their compassion… and so much more… they seemed so genuinely touched by my words… they were moved to share their own stories and we hugged and cried and prayed together. These wonderful people opened their homes, lives and hearts to me and trusted me with their truth. There are no words for how powerful and moving it was. On Sunday we stopped half-way home and visited my aunt and uncle – the first family I have had contact with in over two years. I was able to open up to them and to share my heart with them as well… and they received me without rejection or criticism. After so many years of silence I am finding my voice and I feel like a new woman. I am not saying that I am suddenly healed after years of abuse, fear, anger etc… but I feel a new strength… This week brought so many surprises… so much hope… and for the first time in a long time I feel that my recovery WILL one day be complete. I know life is a journey and I have far yet to go, but I know I will be ok… I am no longer focused on surviving my life… I am finding ways to live my life and to help others do the same.
Tag Archive: anger
After years of self-abuse (cutting, drinking, drugs etc) I finally found the strength to cry out for help – that is what has gotten me to where I am today… I could not have made it this far without help and I would not have received help until I got brave enough to ask for it… I nearly waited too late to ask someone to take the knife out of my hand.
I am finally seeing the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel… and though I still have the occasional flash back, it no longer cripples me nor does it define me. My past is a part of what made me the woman I am today but it is not all that I am. I know it does not have to consume me. I have battled my way through terror, pain, frantic desperation and humiliation but I am here. I am alive… possibly for the first time in my life I am not just existing…. I am LIVING.
I spent the day driving along A1A visiting Little Talbot Island, Big Talbot Island, Amelia Island and Fort Clinch State Park. I thought I would share some of my photos from my trip.
Fences along the dunes… I love these falling down fences, so beautiful despite their weakness.
I love the vibrant colors and textures I always find along the beach.
I love watching the sand-pipers pick their way along the beach… and I think the footprints they leave behind are so cute.
I love the way the light turns golden as the sun prepares to set…
I love this old bronze cross in St Augustine… It is beautiful and I love the way it shines in the sun.
I am struggling today. I feel lost in my own mind and I fear I may go mad if I do not connect with someone. I need desperately to get outside of my own head. It feels dangerous and crowded in here. I do anything, everything to distract myself, to be ok – but none of it is working today. I had this idea in my mind that I would go out to eat after work and sit and sip a nice coffee while I read and was totally at peace with myself and my surroundings… I would get lost in the moment and allow myself to relax in a public setting. I would dine alone with relish at the space – all the room for my own thoughts and ideas and creative urges… I brought along my journal and was READY. I was prepared for great inspiration and deep connecting to my heart. What I actually did was drive between 3 different restaurants in a fit of indecision for about half an hour before deciding to eat at a place I’ve never heard of just because it was getting late and I was verging on panic. So I parked and went inside. It was quiet, only a hand-full of other diners – that is, until I got there. Apparently the dinner rush came right behind me and the place transformed from a quiet haven to a bustling noisy nerve-jangling room full of voices and smells of food and bodies. Now, I know the place was not as full as my mind was making it out to be – but in my anxiety-filled state of mind it felt like a crowd pressing upon me… so no peace. I ate fast and got out of there. Next I figured I could at least go to the nearest coffee shop and pull up a chair and be politely ignored while I read or journal. I arrived at Starbucks (not exactly what I had in mind but I’m still learning my way around this town) and ordered with confidence and sat at a tall table in the tiny coffee shop. I read a chapter of my book (although, in retrospect, I cannot tell you what I read) and sipped my mocha. I made myself read slowly and to sip my drink with apparent relish… but I was not fooling myself. My heart raced, my palms were sweaty and I was hyper aware of every person in the room and through the corner of my eye kept tabs on the people around me. Will I ever get beyond this need to look over my shoulder? Will I ever not feel his eyes on me? Will I ever stop listening for his footsteps coming up behind me? Will I ever forget the feel of his rough hands, stubbled chin…the smell of his after-shave? Will I ever purge myself of this man? Will I ever be able to stay in the moment without escaping into the nearest distraction? Will I ever feel at home in my own skin again? Will I ever stop feeling like a disappointment, a failure? Will his voice ever leave my ears? What ifs plague me. What if he haunts me my entire life. What if I never get better? What if … what if …
I feel like I am about to go completely crazy. Have you ever wanted something…wished so hard for it you thought your heart would break? I feel that way right now. I am longing for healing, longing for freedom, longing for wholeness… longing so deeply that I can scarcely breathe. I want to run away – start a new life somewhere far away where no one knows my name, where my past will not haunt me. I want to feel safe in my own skin again. I want to dream and dare. I am tired of that anxious feeling…that bees buzzing in my chest feeling…that sense of impending doom that pervades my life. I know that every day is not this bad. I know that I am healing steadily every day. I know that my life is better today than it has ever been and I know the best is yet to come. But despite all of that – I still have days like this… days when I cannot calm down… days when I feel so fragile – like my feelings are barely beneath the surface and the least unkind work, look, gesture will bring me to tears. I hate days like this…I hate feeling so vulnerable around perfect strangers. Sanity feels elusive on days like this. Like it is draining like sand from an hour glass… and I am running out of time.
My father-in-law is a monster. No, he’s not a vampire, were-wolf, zombie, mummy kind of monster…but he’s much worse. He pretends to be kind and loving to the “public” but as soon as we are alone with him he never fails to emotionally attack my husband. He has flat-out told him that he did not care that he hurt his feelings. In fact, he informed him that my husband’s feelings do not mater at all to him. In the mean-time he tells his ‘friends’ that he is just so worried about his son and he does not understand why his son is so distant of late and accuses me of tearing his son away from his family. He is truly a bully – and a pathetic one at that. He disgusts me. I know there are two-faced people in the world, that does not surprise me. What surprises me is the number of people he has been able to fool with his “poor little me” sob story. He is a widower and he plays that up all the time for sympathy extolling his goodness in standing by her side through a prolonged illness when, in truth, he cheated on her for nearly 20 years of their 40+ year marriage. I am so sick of hypocrites! I am sick of people who pretend to be family and turn on you as soon as you have an opinion differing from theirs. Color me DONE!
To the person who refuses to get it
To the person who cannot see me through the mask of his own making
To the person who calls ME the monster
To the person who thinks this blog was written to hurt HIS family
You know who you are –
You Repel Me (to quote Sherlock)
You disappoint me.
You are not my judge – you are not my jury – you are not fit to judge me and you have no freaking idea what you are talking about. Don’t act all wounded and expect me to buy it. Don’t pretend righteous outrage and expect me to pity you or to cower before you. Don’t be surprised when I fight back. I’m not the person you knew. Don’t make the mistake of thinking that you know me or that you have ANY right to my life…. any right to know me, to speak to me or to comment on my life in any medium. You lost any right – any claim you may have had on my life – years ago. You think Dad is so wonderful? Where were you when he was talking about testifying on Eddie’s behalf as a character witness? You think Mom is a victim? How many times have you heard her stand up for herself but allow him to bull-doze over us? You think you know me? Think again. I am no going to go along with you and pretend our family was this happy family. I am not going to pretend that Dad saying “I’m sorry if I did anything to hurt you.” is an actual apology. I am not going to pretend that Mom playing the role of the weak wounded woman is going to move me in the face of the life I’ve lived through. You do not know me. You have no idea what I am capable of. You are not welcome here. You do not want to know my heart, my thoughts? Then don’t ever come back – don’t read another word. Just walk away – it’s what you are good at.
Forked tongue spits death
thinly disguised as kindness.
Poison heart spews bile.
How is it that you
are by him so deeply loved,
yet feel only hate?
We found this snake in our yard…he’s beautiful and harmless – unlike the subject of this poem
Reaching for you with
Hands that are broken – I fail
Love – still out of reach.
Shaking inside I wake – afraid
and I stare into the darkness
wondering if you lie awake at night
and think about me….
Do you ever wonder if
you could have done better? Or
do you rest easy in your shroud of self-
righteousness and assume you are god?
Here is my heart…. take it
eat it…throw it away… break
it in two… love it… hate it…
just stop refusing to SEE it.
captivatingbitter 