Insanity or Clarity?

As a child, I had very little independent thinking outside of my father. My abuse started when I was so small, that it was as if I had become a solider in my father’s army. Enlisted without cause and disabled of any independence. There were no Saturday morning cartoons in our house that I canContinue reading “Insanity or Clarity?”

The Well of My Soul

I believe that God saw that I was unloved as a child. That’s why He found me. The well of my tiny soul had no water and my eyes gave no light. Then, I met Him. In my room at the age of three, pegged against a wall of suffering, waiting for my body toContinue reading “The Well of My Soul”

Wailing was Forbidden

After we moved from our home on Delaware Lane, I don’t remember crying. Well, the time I was bit in the face by our Doberman Pinscher, I cried. And, the time my mother left me at home all by myself – I cried then, too. What I am talking about are the tears that drainedContinue reading “Wailing was Forbidden”

The Shot of Rejection

Abuse, for each one of us, is a burden to carry. The acts perpetrated against us carry a sentence that equates, ultimately, to rejection. My parents continually dismissed me. Their refusal to see me, offer any comfort or love that I needed as a child, left a blueprint that I followed. That path led meContinue reading “The Shot of Rejection”

A Soft Heart

When insatiable pain enters my soul, I’m perplexed with indecision. I can run away from it or I can try to devour it and end it’s sting. If I don’t outrun it, then it finds me. If I try to look at it, it overtakes me. These feel like two really bad choices. I hateContinue reading “A Soft Heart”

Divisive Schemes of an Abuser

Abuse never stands alone. There are so many complicated areas that abusers weave into the fabric of the perfectly crafted prison cells they make for us. Many of us barely escape, and when we do, we usually never talk about it. The physical barriers may have gone but a wall of shame and secrecy keepsContinue reading “Divisive Schemes of an Abuser”

A Moral to the Story

I believe it doesn’t matter what standing looks like. I’ve learned to just stand. It’d be great if peace always stood with me, but that sometimes is not possible. I’ve had to toughen up through this healing process. I believe it’s the kind of growth that’s required. To be clear, this isn’t a protection thatContinue reading “A Moral to the Story”