When I was a teenager I read somewhere that, according to an old Indian legend, butterflies could grant you your lost innocence. This thought obsessed me. I began to truly believe this. I longed for the return of what had been stolen from me so cruelly. I already loved butterflies. They are so beautiful and so fragile. Their lives, though short, seemed to have more meaning, more purpose, than mine. It may sound silly, but I began to pray for this encounter, for this miraculous return of my innocence. For years I longed to feel the butterfly’s kiss and have my healing at long last. One day, walking through the woods, I was admiring the filtered rays of sun touching the ground in a plethora of small pools on the ground before me… praying once again for my healing, for this blessed encounter when, in a flurry of wings, a butterfly smacked me right in the face! I felt my heart burst within me. I laughed, flung out my arms, and twirled in the dappling shadows. I cried with joy. No, I didn’t receive my miracle… at least not the one I was expecting. I’m not going to tell you that my innocence was restored or that the hurt in my heart just floated away to be filled with blessed light. I didn’t suddenly let go of all the pain and fear that haunted me… none of the things I wished for came true. So why did I laugh until I cried? Because in that moment I felt God’s promise come into my heart and fill the emptiness I had been trying to desperately to ignore. He told me then that I would be healed, that my heart would soar again and that the innocent joy I had been seeking would find me. In one moment, alone in the woods, faith filled me and my search was over. I am still healing, I am still journeying, and I am still full of hope. I have found my joy and my innocence waiting right where I left them. I still fall into despair, but at the sight of a beautiful butterfly, God reminds me all that He has promised me will come to pass and my faith is renewed.
Tag Archive: healing
So when you’re young you celebrate all of your holidays with the family you’re born into, and sometimes that tradition carries into your adult-hood. In my case, I find my self celebrating my holidays more and more with my chosen family. I wasn’t given a choice about who I was born to, how I was raised or how I was treated by my extended blood family. Now, as an adult, I make the choices about being with people who genuinely enjoy me, who love me and who care about my well-being – even if that means they hold me when I cry. I belive my parents love me very much, but negative emotion wasn’t welcome at my child-hood home, so I learned early to just choke back and suppress any unwanted emotion and only display what is positive even if it was a total lie. I don’t live that way any-more. I have the right to feel how I feel with no apologies and no guilt. I embrace all of my emotions and don’t worry about what’s politically correct or socially acceptable. I embrace the truth of the moment and I don’t continually censor myself any-more. Now I approach the holidays with the thought of… “What’s healthy for me?” not “What will make everyone around me like me or approve of me?”
This year I have spent Christmas day with my best friend and my husband, two of the only people who truly feel like family to me, two people who really know me and love all of me, not just the acceptable opinions and attitudes… I will also be ringing in the New Year with them and I can’t think of a more peaceful way to begin my year than to be surrounded by love and acceptance. I am truly grateful to have been given a new definition of love and of family this year.
The mist curls softly,
caresses me lovingly,
a cool kiss of death.
I seek the embrace
of skeletal Thanatos
with his grinning skull
and eyeless sockets.
He carefully gathers me
doll-like in his arms,
singing lullabies
to the dying child within.
I cry in the end,
With horror – with pain.
One tear for my funeral.
One tear for my death.
You know, I never would have thought of myself as bad, damaged, or to blame if it had not been implied by my father. After my family found out about that I was molseted by my uncle they treated me like a freak, like a stranger. I don’t think they knew what to say to me or how to act around me. It’s like we were all lost. I will never forget what my father said, though… He had 3 things to say.
1. Are you sure you’re not making this up. Did you just want to fit in with the other girls, is that why you said this?
2. Why didn’t you tell us? Did you like it so much you just didn’t want it to stop, is that why you never said anything?
3. You are no better than a child molester your-self. If you would have said something when it happened you could have saved your cousins.
I will carry these scars the rest of my life. Before this conversation it never crossed my mind that I was to blame for any of this. Before this conversation being molested was just a bad thing that happened to me. Before this I had the illusion that my family would be there for me and support me if the worst happened. This conversation changed my entire life.
captivatingbitter 