It is one of those days when my heart twists inside me like warped metal… feeling immovable and beyond repair.. I think about the View from the Pit sometimes and wonder why so few writers embrace and write about the pit… but I think it is because the pain there is so deep and so very personal that writing/speaking honestly about is like giving a piece of your soul away to strangers… it feels foolhardy, dangerous and way beyond vulnerable. How do I articulate this?…. Hmmmmmm… I have unshakable faith in Christ and I have a hope for a better life beyond this one… but if I did not have my faith I must say I don’t think I would have survived my life. I would certainly not be as close to daylight as I am now. I may sill be in the dark… I may still be in the pit… but I can at least see the blessed sun now and I know that I will one day soon feel the warmth of it on my skin with all of its life giving glory.
Tag Archive: child-molestor
Some days it feels like there are no ears to hear our cries. I have faith that this is not the case, but some days I wish that I had a definite answer… some definite sign that my prayers were heard and that an answer was on the way… Some days faith comes so easily to me and other days it feels nearly impossible…
I’ve been thinking a lot about Dante’s Divine Comedy…specifically his Inferno and I have decide I have 7 levels of my not-okay-ness…I know this is not grammatically correct 🙂 But it’s the best way I can explain it… Here’s how it goes… In this scenario I knock my contact solution off the sink edge due to my infinite clumsiness…
Level One: I have no reaction… I just pick it up and put it back.
Level Two: I take a deep breath, sigh, then put it back.
Level Three: I take a deep breath, huff, blow, slam it back down.
Level Four: I growl at the contact solution, pick it up, slam it down, huff, mumble and clench my fists…then take a deep breath…
Level Five: I growl, glare at the contact solution, leave it there, huff, sigh, take a moment to calm myself down and take a deep breath.
Level Six: I yell at the contact solution, I glare at it, I kick it across the room, yell at it some more and pick it up and slam it down.
Level Seven: I yell at the contact solution, sink, mirror and any inanimate object around, I pick up the contact solution and throw it against the mirror, I cry, I pick it up and throw it again.
Does anyone else have days like this filled with irrational emotional craziness? I hate this rage…this overly emotional out of control feeling….I certainly don’t want to go through life feeling like this… How do I get a handle on it?
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.
The Dream:
I am spending time with my uncle, Eddie, and his 3 daughters. We’re at my parent’s house listening to some Southern Gospel music and debating on the merits of the old Southern Gospel music vs modern Christian Rock.. We’re all laughing, teasing and so happy. We’re flipping through CD’s and my MP3 player playlist… It’s a good day and I feel so safe and loved.
So what makes this a nightmare?
My uncle is a rapist and a child molester and in my dream I don’t know this… in my dream I haven’t remembered what he has done to me and I don’t yet know what he is doing to his beautiful daughters.
The part of me that is always me (no matter what I am dreaming) is terrified and screaming at the dream me to get out of there ! I hate that I can feel so safe and terrified, so innocent and soiled all at the same time. Most of all I hate how much this dream has set me back. I hate how vulnerable I suddenly feel. I hate how I can barely accept touch. I hate how I want to hide away and not face all of this. I hate the temptation to morph back into that robot of a woman and pretend that everything is fine even though I can barely breathe.
So what’s the plan? I am going to breathe in and out. I am going to face my fears. I am going to feel this and not be a coward or a zombie. I am going to admit that I have been hurt – terribly – and it is ok to be afraid for a while. I am going to allow my husband to comfort me and allow myself some room to be vulnerable. But most importantly, I am going to go through this. No short-cuts or detours. Because that is the only way I am ever really going to find peace.







