I've been growing, healing, moving in fits and starts down "the way" that leads back to the great path. When I can, rather than fight the river and surely drown, I let it take me where it will, and learn from what it shares with me.
Some years ago I met Laura because on our way to the great path, ours crossed. We have been on and off walking for a while, working on being present. So at one point when time and space conspired to have us within relative proximity and she suggested lunch, I agreed. Two years ago that. For me it was a big step. I got up early (for me at the time) and drove the 50 miles up to Dayton from Cincinnati. Several hours later we were both back on the road, me to "home" and her to her Dad's house. It was a big step for me.
She's since become convinced I need to move to Tucson. My plan has been to head home to Colorado. I joked that I'd need to visit Tucson, explore some, get a feel for it before I'd consider it. After all, my first move to Colorado so long ago was a result of a business trip there. I got a taste and was hooked. I let Earl take me from Colorado years ago, but with him gone now, my plan has been to go home one day soon.
That was two years ago. I am not the same person I was, nor is Laura, but our relationship has grown. Last year during her annual pilgrimage to her father's house I met her in Dayton again, and had more fun. Grew further because instead of just going up for lunch, I went up and stayed overnight at a Motel there and we had dinner and breakfast together. Still she spoke of her enduring love for the Sonoran desert and her belief that I needed to move there.
And then she hatched an evil plot.
So December 9th after carefully planing, packing, and consulting with the weather God's, I set out in the Jumper toward her desert home. As much about house and pet sitting while she and her boyfriend spend the holiday's with her Dad, as it was part of her evil plan to get her desert into my soul, I spent the last month there. Yes, I drove almost four thousand miles round trip to house and pet sit. But the logic was irrefutable. I already knew and loved Emily (her Portie) and was certain that I'd have no problems with her other four legged people. It would have cost her a small fortune to board them and they would have been stuck in cages and only periodically walked. By driving down to the desert I'd be lessening their suffering, Laura would be able to rest easy and enjoy her trip knowing the wee ones were loved and free instead of locked in cages for more than a week. It made sense all the way around.
On the 16th of January I bade farewell to the Sonoran desert and set course for my "Temporary Home" in Ohio. The trip out and back, the more than a month I spent there, and the people I shared time with will be part of me forever. Having now had a taste of the Sonoran desert I know I want more. Laura's path and mine crossed some time ago, and we've been now and again walking together, even riding together, sharing what we know, and lending a hand and caring heart as we go. You just know I had to bring my bike with me right? There will be more to follow on the subject, this is just a warm up. This is just to say that Laura's evil plan has borne fruit, I enjoyed my time in the desert and all the paths of other people that crossed mine while I was there.
Showing posts with label Growth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Growth. Show all posts
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Dreams teach . . .
. . .and sometimes I learn things about myself, or have things confirmed that I'd known or suspected. The last two nights are no exception. And somehow I feel as though I've been tested and passed muster. I have my suspicions there, but I'll keep those cards close to my vest as they say. A least for the nonce.
Anyway, back to my dreams. Or should I say nightmares. They have been such a constant part of my life for so many years it's hard to say anymore where the line between dreams and nightmares exists, or even if it does. I oft wonder if it is not so much a line as much a matter of degree?
Night before last I was out walking somewhere, in a city I'm not familiar with, when I was accosted by a complete stranger that decided I was not at home raising children doting on my husband like I was supposed to be. He decided I was evil because I wasn't sufficiently (or at all) cowed by his presence. He warned me that God had given him the right, the duty, to smite me if need be. Maybe I should have been showing the fear and terror of being put upon by this person that I was feeling or something, but instead I looked at him and said I seriously doubt you are permitted by God to smite me. That is not the way God works. Some more words of madness from him and finally I said, "Fine, you and I don't agree, I get that, and you feel you have to smite me, I get that too. Before we get to the smiting part of our program can I just mention that with great power comes great responsibility? And that it might be possible that while the lighting flashed and the sparks showered in one blink of your eyes you had had missed seeing? That I could not be responsible for actions you take, only my own? 'The sun is warm, the wind is mild, willows are green along the shore, Here no bull can hide?'" In a moment that felt much like Yosemite Sam facing off against Bugs Bunny he bellowed "Enough nonsense woman, prepare to meet your maker!"
I simply said "I put no distance between myself and where I am, what of you? If smiting me is what you plan to do, might I suggest you just get on with it and stop wasting both of our time?"
I watched as his hands began to glow and thought it strange, after all, as a healer I could do the same thing but would never think to use it to harm another being. So I set my hands to glowing and increased my own shielding against negative energy. At which point his eyes took on an intensity that almost reminded me of a Stargate universe Goa'uld and I thought "ah, false gods," as a massive amount of energy poured out of the heavens in my direction, hit my shielding and enveloped him. It wasn't pretty from there. I felt slightly guilty, like I should have perhaps shielded him as well and dissipated the blast harmlessly, but it was to late for that and I awoke shaken from my encounter with an agent of a false god.
So last night was an even longer, more involved nightmare typical of many, if not most of mine. I'm being chased by people that wish to harm me, captured, and then forced to work on their behalf to do things they wanted me to all while threatening to hurt or kill me if I didn't do just what they wanted, the way they wanted. Over the course of several days things came to a head with one of the leaders of these people falling seriously ill. My own nature was to help him, heal him is I could, and prevent harm from coming to him. So again I lit up my hands and encouraged one of the people with me, who was also being held against her will, to help with the healing as well. One of the other people stood there stunned and said "We were most likely going to kill you when we were done with you, why do you willingly help heal someone who is going to kill you?"
I pointed out that it was not my job to be his judge, jury and executioner, and not my nature to refuse to help someone based on a judgement call of such magnitude. Mine is not to decide another's fate, mine is only to lessen if at all possible suffering and to use my gifts for the greater good. To sit back and watch him die was not in my nature, regardless of what was in his. I was already suffering at his hands, and letting him die would not change what I'd experienced.
Awakening from this dream I felt as though I'd passed some sort of test. I was also reminded of why despite the way Earl and his parents were treating me, I still fought tirelessly to help him heal and grow. How despite my own subjective distress I could remain objective in my care and treatment of Earl.
I am Buddhist person. Not because of what I say, but because of what I do. I am Buddhist person not because of the preaching or pronouncements of myself, my god or others, but because of the path I walk. These two dreams helped me to remember what I've known all along but had been distracted from. Sleep is one of the ultimate forms of meditation, and through dreams, we learn or are reminded of what we already know.
Buddhism to me is much less a form or religion in the common use of the word, and certainly not deist, or dogmatic in anyway, but a method of navigating the great path. I follow no one, practice no "rituals" other than perhaps meditation if one could call that a ritual, and I choose not to lead. Buddha teaches that all is illusion, and not to believe in him or what he says, but to find our path to enlightenment and walk it ourselves just as he has done. Zen Buddhism, which is littered in my remarks above, has only Koans to meditate upon, things to ponder and take from them what we may. Things like:
"The river tells no lies, yet standing at it's shores the dishonest man still hears them"
and
"If you immediately know the candlelight is fire, the meal was cooked a long time ago."
So there is little or no chance of being locked into dogmatic thinking, or a set of sound bites or bullet points to shout from a position of self importance. In Zen Buddhist, nothing is a given and everything is possible. The "four noble truths for example do not exist as things set in stone, but as reminders of a place and time that flavored the thinking and experiences of the person who shared them. That even the eightfold path as right as it can be, is not the be all and end all of Buddhist experience on the road to the great path.
"All roads lead to the great path, many cross."
And dreams, be they during sleep, or while in deep meditation, can and often do teach . . .
Anyway, back to my dreams. Or should I say nightmares. They have been such a constant part of my life for so many years it's hard to say anymore where the line between dreams and nightmares exists, or even if it does. I oft wonder if it is not so much a line as much a matter of degree?
Night before last I was out walking somewhere, in a city I'm not familiar with, when I was accosted by a complete stranger that decided I was not at home raising children doting on my husband like I was supposed to be. He decided I was evil because I wasn't sufficiently (or at all) cowed by his presence. He warned me that God had given him the right, the duty, to smite me if need be. Maybe I should have been showing the fear and terror of being put upon by this person that I was feeling or something, but instead I looked at him and said I seriously doubt you are permitted by God to smite me. That is not the way God works. Some more words of madness from him and finally I said, "Fine, you and I don't agree, I get that, and you feel you have to smite me, I get that too. Before we get to the smiting part of our program can I just mention that with great power comes great responsibility? And that it might be possible that while the lighting flashed and the sparks showered in one blink of your eyes you had had missed seeing? That I could not be responsible for actions you take, only my own? 'The sun is warm, the wind is mild, willows are green along the shore, Here no bull can hide?'" In a moment that felt much like Yosemite Sam facing off against Bugs Bunny he bellowed "Enough nonsense woman, prepare to meet your maker!"
I simply said "I put no distance between myself and where I am, what of you? If smiting me is what you plan to do, might I suggest you just get on with it and stop wasting both of our time?"
I watched as his hands began to glow and thought it strange, after all, as a healer I could do the same thing but would never think to use it to harm another being. So I set my hands to glowing and increased my own shielding against negative energy. At which point his eyes took on an intensity that almost reminded me of a Stargate universe Goa'uld and I thought "ah, false gods," as a massive amount of energy poured out of the heavens in my direction, hit my shielding and enveloped him. It wasn't pretty from there. I felt slightly guilty, like I should have perhaps shielded him as well and dissipated the blast harmlessly, but it was to late for that and I awoke shaken from my encounter with an agent of a false god.
So last night was an even longer, more involved nightmare typical of many, if not most of mine. I'm being chased by people that wish to harm me, captured, and then forced to work on their behalf to do things they wanted me to all while threatening to hurt or kill me if I didn't do just what they wanted, the way they wanted. Over the course of several days things came to a head with one of the leaders of these people falling seriously ill. My own nature was to help him, heal him is I could, and prevent harm from coming to him. So again I lit up my hands and encouraged one of the people with me, who was also being held against her will, to help with the healing as well. One of the other people stood there stunned and said "We were most likely going to kill you when we were done with you, why do you willingly help heal someone who is going to kill you?"
I pointed out that it was not my job to be his judge, jury and executioner, and not my nature to refuse to help someone based on a judgement call of such magnitude. Mine is not to decide another's fate, mine is only to lessen if at all possible suffering and to use my gifts for the greater good. To sit back and watch him die was not in my nature, regardless of what was in his. I was already suffering at his hands, and letting him die would not change what I'd experienced.
Awakening from this dream I felt as though I'd passed some sort of test. I was also reminded of why despite the way Earl and his parents were treating me, I still fought tirelessly to help him heal and grow. How despite my own subjective distress I could remain objective in my care and treatment of Earl.
I am Buddhist person. Not because of what I say, but because of what I do. I am Buddhist person not because of the preaching or pronouncements of myself, my god or others, but because of the path I walk. These two dreams helped me to remember what I've known all along but had been distracted from. Sleep is one of the ultimate forms of meditation, and through dreams, we learn or are reminded of what we already know.
Buddhism to me is much less a form or religion in the common use of the word, and certainly not deist, or dogmatic in anyway, but a method of navigating the great path. I follow no one, practice no "rituals" other than perhaps meditation if one could call that a ritual, and I choose not to lead. Buddha teaches that all is illusion, and not to believe in him or what he says, but to find our path to enlightenment and walk it ourselves just as he has done. Zen Buddhism, which is littered in my remarks above, has only Koans to meditate upon, things to ponder and take from them what we may. Things like:
"The river tells no lies, yet standing at it's shores the dishonest man still hears them"
and
"If you immediately know the candlelight is fire, the meal was cooked a long time ago."
So there is little or no chance of being locked into dogmatic thinking, or a set of sound bites or bullet points to shout from a position of self importance. In Zen Buddhist, nothing is a given and everything is possible. The "four noble truths for example do not exist as things set in stone, but as reminders of a place and time that flavored the thinking and experiences of the person who shared them. That even the eightfold path as right as it can be, is not the be all and end all of Buddhist experience on the road to the great path.
"All roads lead to the great path, many cross."
And dreams, be they during sleep, or while in deep meditation, can and often do teach . . .
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
Communications, Mental Illness and growth . . .
I'm not even close to perfect. I'm just a girl dealing with a lifetime of stuff that has been, shall we say, less than favorable. A lifetime of abuse specifically, and of course my own internal issues have left me with problems, and plenty of them. My growth and changes have left the lions share of people around me lamenting the loss of the person I was. Not a week goes by that I don't find myself reminding folks I've known for years that I'm not HIM. That guy they knew, for better or worse, is gone.
Because these are people I care about, and the effect years of abuse have had on me, quite often I try too hard to please other people. I know this to be a problem and I'm working on it. I try to keep track of myself, how I relate to the world, and how I communicate. I am dealing with Mental Illness and this makes things more difficult for me, and the folks around me, but hey, I'm trying. I'm working hard on growth, healing and recovery where possible.
Some people, too many people, try to blindly PUSH through things to avoid change and growth. Some people seem to feel, subconsciously, that it is MY job, MY problem and that I should change to fit into their own bit of brokenness. I'm sorry, but I've long since outgrown, or burned out, on the obsessive NEED to be right and have all the answers. Even to the stupid s5it no one really thinks about or cares.
Case in point, the government is stupid and at many levels a very simply run organization. Cost matters, and in many places they nickel and dime things to death. The Food Stamp program is one such instance where this is seen to be true. Someone I know just started, as part if her own journey of healing and growth, on Food Stamps. Great, wonderful, awesome, she's getting some much needed help.
No one cares, or gives a flying pig when or why the FS program will prorate the amount available. Reality check here; You start in the middle of the month, they give you only as much as days remain in the month. NO ONE except maybe the person getting FS gives a flying fig that the portion of the month BEFORE FS started the person may not have had much to eat. The government doesn't CARE, you were NOT their problem then, so of course they are going to prorate it.
Me I had to sit through a lecture of why it is stupid and even somewhat insensitive. I had to sit, biting down on my tongue to keep from saying something, anything, because it would have served only to fuel this persons wrath and brand of brokenness and use me as the target. I don't really fracking CARE! Damn it girl, you are broken, need to be on disability so you can focus on healing and growth, not just beat into your own and everyone else's minds why you are so broken.
Communications is as much learned as innate, nature and nurture combine to form a matrix that gives us some direction and then life is the process of growth, change, learning and so forth. The definition of insanity for many is doing the same thing time and again expecting a different response. Men and women have two completely different styles of communication and at times it is, in my experience, like speaking two very different languages. Those of us "gifted" with Gender issues understand the torment of trying to be someone we are not.
Some people, for whatever reason, just refuse to heal and grow. This includes but is not limited to picking a damn gender. Just pick one, go there, and be done with it. Worse yet, find a way to communicate that WORKS and go with it, some people, know, down to a horrific level of detail EXACTLY how gender communications works for BOTH genders and can switch back and forth with an ease that makes those of us stuck with one or the other envious.
REFUSING to pick a language, a style of communications that people can relate to is what brings me to this level of frustration. Sitting right on the fence teasing BOTH sides with language and communications that works for neither is just cruel. BULLSHIT you don't think in one or the other, you've shown, time and again you can. Refusing to because its HARD? Come off it, grow up! Life isn't easy, isn't meant to be, and like anything, the rewards are there.
You're broken enough, without having to prove it constantly! Sitting halfway between worlds and taunting both is simply MEAN, NOT easy. Well, I sit corrected, yeah, it's easy to pick on the crippled kids. But when you are the one crippled and you come off all pompous, high and mighty and then manage through double talk to get everyone hooked on what you are saying and trying to keep up, we eventually tire of this. Get over it! Really! Male, female, pick one already! Don't sit between like you are some super being who knows better than everyone and hit us because we can't keep up or even follow you more than half the time.
Get over the dissection of everything into atoms leaving crap everywhere! Stop breaking it down to math and actually try to live for a change. Talk WITH people, NOT AT THEM and see where that can take you. When you are faced with someone who admits she's not perfect, doesn't know everything, and is WORKING hard on healing and growth, DON'T KICK the shit out of her every change you get.
I'm terrified of speaking, of saying ANYTHING because NOTHING I say is ever good enough, right enough, accurate or perfect enough. I live in the real world, I avoid the news, I KNOW WHAT I'VE seen, lived, am trying to survive. I really don't give a flying pig about libertarian dogma, and it is dogma. You have it burned so deep into you somehow you are incapable, or unwilling to see WHAT ACTUALLY IS, before you go ripping it to shreds. I'm sure . . .
I'm sure I meant to finish this, but it will have to wait I guess . . .
Because these are people I care about, and the effect years of abuse have had on me, quite often I try too hard to please other people. I know this to be a problem and I'm working on it. I try to keep track of myself, how I relate to the world, and how I communicate. I am dealing with Mental Illness and this makes things more difficult for me, and the folks around me, but hey, I'm trying. I'm working hard on growth, healing and recovery where possible.
Some people, too many people, try to blindly PUSH through things to avoid change and growth. Some people seem to feel, subconsciously, that it is MY job, MY problem and that I should change to fit into their own bit of brokenness. I'm sorry, but I've long since outgrown, or burned out, on the obsessive NEED to be right and have all the answers. Even to the stupid s5it no one really thinks about or cares.
Case in point, the government is stupid and at many levels a very simply run organization. Cost matters, and in many places they nickel and dime things to death. The Food Stamp program is one such instance where this is seen to be true. Someone I know just started, as part if her own journey of healing and growth, on Food Stamps. Great, wonderful, awesome, she's getting some much needed help.
No one cares, or gives a flying pig when or why the FS program will prorate the amount available. Reality check here; You start in the middle of the month, they give you only as much as days remain in the month. NO ONE except maybe the person getting FS gives a flying fig that the portion of the month BEFORE FS started the person may not have had much to eat. The government doesn't CARE, you were NOT their problem then, so of course they are going to prorate it.
Me I had to sit through a lecture of why it is stupid and even somewhat insensitive. I had to sit, biting down on my tongue to keep from saying something, anything, because it would have served only to fuel this persons wrath and brand of brokenness and use me as the target. I don't really fracking CARE! Damn it girl, you are broken, need to be on disability so you can focus on healing and growth, not just beat into your own and everyone else's minds why you are so broken.
Communications is as much learned as innate, nature and nurture combine to form a matrix that gives us some direction and then life is the process of growth, change, learning and so forth. The definition of insanity for many is doing the same thing time and again expecting a different response. Men and women have two completely different styles of communication and at times it is, in my experience, like speaking two very different languages. Those of us "gifted" with Gender issues understand the torment of trying to be someone we are not.
Some people, for whatever reason, just refuse to heal and grow. This includes but is not limited to picking a damn gender. Just pick one, go there, and be done with it. Worse yet, find a way to communicate that WORKS and go with it, some people, know, down to a horrific level of detail EXACTLY how gender communications works for BOTH genders and can switch back and forth with an ease that makes those of us stuck with one or the other envious.
REFUSING to pick a language, a style of communications that people can relate to is what brings me to this level of frustration. Sitting right on the fence teasing BOTH sides with language and communications that works for neither is just cruel. BULLSHIT you don't think in one or the other, you've shown, time and again you can. Refusing to because its HARD? Come off it, grow up! Life isn't easy, isn't meant to be, and like anything, the rewards are there.
You're broken enough, without having to prove it constantly! Sitting halfway between worlds and taunting both is simply MEAN, NOT easy. Well, I sit corrected, yeah, it's easy to pick on the crippled kids. But when you are the one crippled and you come off all pompous, high and mighty and then manage through double talk to get everyone hooked on what you are saying and trying to keep up, we eventually tire of this. Get over it! Really! Male, female, pick one already! Don't sit between like you are some super being who knows better than everyone and hit us because we can't keep up or even follow you more than half the time.
Get over the dissection of everything into atoms leaving crap everywhere! Stop breaking it down to math and actually try to live for a change. Talk WITH people, NOT AT THEM and see where that can take you. When you are faced with someone who admits she's not perfect, doesn't know everything, and is WORKING hard on healing and growth, DON'T KICK the shit out of her every change you get.
I'm terrified of speaking, of saying ANYTHING because NOTHING I say is ever good enough, right enough, accurate or perfect enough. I live in the real world, I avoid the news, I KNOW WHAT I'VE seen, lived, am trying to survive. I really don't give a flying pig about libertarian dogma, and it is dogma. You have it burned so deep into you somehow you are incapable, or unwilling to see WHAT ACTUALLY IS, before you go ripping it to shreds. I'm sure . . .
I'm sure I meant to finish this, but it will have to wait I guess . . .
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Passing days, and memories. . .
Earl was a bastard, there is no nice way to say it, he was controlling, abusive, cruel and so much more. He was exactly the same man I married nine years ago today. On our wedding day he was more than just rude and an obnoxious jerk to my sister and a friend, he was violent and abusive.
He was also, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, my husband and I failed him and myself.
His illnesses took him from us, from me, long before his death April 10th of 2006. Gender Dysphoria, A co-dependant, abusive relationship with his parents, diabetes, kidney failure due to high blood pressure, which was due to the stress on his heart and soul of living so profound a lie.
I've "learned" to hate him over time, to "see" how this wasn't my fault, why I shouldn't feel ashamed and a waste of life. But you see this is the crux of the problem, feelings don't always make sense. I spent the better part of my adult life controlling, or trying to, my FEELINGS to the point that it nearly took my life too! I've "learned" that I did what I must to survive, to live, to "protect and serve" my own life. To for once, nurture my own heart, mind, body and soul, allowing myself to be first for a change.
It still isn't easy. I still LOVE that man who was so bad for me, to me, that I am damaged. Well past a "Christmas cake" I'm the old woman down the lane no-one knows and no-one misses. I hurt, so much, and so deep, that I worry I'll never be able to love again. I'm damaged so badly that sleep without tranquilizers and sleeping pills is just a rumor, something other people do, and the thought of allowing anyone too close to me makes my already cold blood freeze solid with terror.
The days pass, and endless stream of tomorrows to muddy with the pain of my heart and soul. The memories however seem to go on forever. All at once I hate this man who violated me, took my heart, mind, body and soul from me and made me unclean, and yet. If he were to walk through the door right now I'd probably go back to waiting on him hand and foot, taking his violence and abuse as if it were my penance for having sinned so badly in my last life.
Today would have been nine years . . . Nine years of violence and pain I am trying so hard to escape. Nine years of betrayal and death of dreams, nine years since I gave this man my heart, mind, body, soul and innocence. I hate him, I love him, and I feel every bit like a drug or alcohol addict must.
She was born with her mother’s habit,
You could say it’s in her blood,
She hates that she’s got to have it,
As she fills her glass up,
She’d love to kill that bottle,
But all she can think about,
Is a better life, a second chance,
And everyone she’s letting down,
She throws that bottle down,
One day, I hope, I pray, I will be that woman. I will throw down the bottle of pain and memory that poisons me.
Don’t give up hope,
Some people change,
Against all odds,
Against the grain,
Love finds a way,
Some people change.
Thank God for those who make it,
Let them be the light,
I pray one day I will be one of these people, that I'll have changed enough to allow Love back into my heart and life, that I'll be able to let someone close to me, to touch me, to hold me, to love me without recoiling in fear and terror.
The days continue to march on, and I'm still here. Slowly growing, changing, healing, and praying for more miracles in my life. The memories however remain, haunt me, taunt me, threatening to tear down what is left of me.
I just cannot give up hope, it is all that sustains me some times . . . Now however I need some Chocolate and some sleep . . .
Today would have been, was nine years . . . I miss him, I miss us, I morn for what might have been, and children thankfully un-born. I morn life . . .
He was also, for better or worse, richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, my husband and I failed him and myself.
His illnesses took him from us, from me, long before his death April 10th of 2006. Gender Dysphoria, A co-dependant, abusive relationship with his parents, diabetes, kidney failure due to high blood pressure, which was due to the stress on his heart and soul of living so profound a lie.
I've "learned" to hate him over time, to "see" how this wasn't my fault, why I shouldn't feel ashamed and a waste of life. But you see this is the crux of the problem, feelings don't always make sense. I spent the better part of my adult life controlling, or trying to, my FEELINGS to the point that it nearly took my life too! I've "learned" that I did what I must to survive, to live, to "protect and serve" my own life. To for once, nurture my own heart, mind, body and soul, allowing myself to be first for a change.
It still isn't easy. I still LOVE that man who was so bad for me, to me, that I am damaged. Well past a "Christmas cake" I'm the old woman down the lane no-one knows and no-one misses. I hurt, so much, and so deep, that I worry I'll never be able to love again. I'm damaged so badly that sleep without tranquilizers and sleeping pills is just a rumor, something other people do, and the thought of allowing anyone too close to me makes my already cold blood freeze solid with terror.
The days pass, and endless stream of tomorrows to muddy with the pain of my heart and soul. The memories however seem to go on forever. All at once I hate this man who violated me, took my heart, mind, body and soul from me and made me unclean, and yet. If he were to walk through the door right now I'd probably go back to waiting on him hand and foot, taking his violence and abuse as if it were my penance for having sinned so badly in my last life.
Today would have been nine years . . . Nine years of violence and pain I am trying so hard to escape. Nine years of betrayal and death of dreams, nine years since I gave this man my heart, mind, body, soul and innocence. I hate him, I love him, and I feel every bit like a drug or alcohol addict must.
She was born with her mother’s habit,
You could say it’s in her blood,
She hates that she’s got to have it,
As she fills her glass up,
She’d love to kill that bottle,
But all she can think about,
Is a better life, a second chance,
And everyone she’s letting down,
She throws that bottle down,
One day, I hope, I pray, I will be that woman. I will throw down the bottle of pain and memory that poisons me.
Don’t give up hope,
Some people change,
Against all odds,
Against the grain,
Love finds a way,
Some people change.
Thank God for those who make it,
Let them be the light,
I pray one day I will be one of these people, that I'll have changed enough to allow Love back into my heart and life, that I'll be able to let someone close to me, to touch me, to hold me, to love me without recoiling in fear and terror.
The days continue to march on, and I'm still here. Slowly growing, changing, healing, and praying for more miracles in my life. The memories however remain, haunt me, taunt me, threatening to tear down what is left of me.
I just cannot give up hope, it is all that sustains me some times . . . Now however I need some Chocolate and some sleep . . .
Today would have been, was nine years . . . I miss him, I miss us, I morn for what might have been, and children thankfully un-born. I morn life . . .
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