Off Balance …

The hardest part of life is making a decision that requires you to deny part of yourself for something society believes to be more important.  Happiness is only temporary, but contentment is lasting.  Contentment is defined by understanding and knowing who you are then fully accepting and embracing all of you with an open heart.  To deny parts of yourself only opens the door to anxiety, defensiveness, and guilt … usually under the guise of someone or something else.

As November slowly approaches, I feel my underlying anxiety creeping it’s way to the forefront of my daily life.  I have denied several pieces of me for so many months now, believing that I needed to focus on what I ‘needed’ to do, and finally it’s all caught up to me.  Who I am, who we all are, is a question we struggle to answer on a daily basis because of our constant distractions, emotions, tasks, needs and requirements of that day.

Today, I find myself reflecting on who I am, searching for the basis of my anxiety … trying to understand the reason why this overwhelming feeling has once more returned.  I know it’s a compilation of things, but I’ve come to understand something deeper this morning.

I’d like to share something I wrote a few days ago with you …

Thank You.

*originally written March 25, 2012

Over the last four years, I’ve stayed clear from every one that has, in one time or another, been in my life. It was the time I gave to myself to heal and process everything I had and was going through. Only the very closest and dearest to me knew my story, knew the details of the hurt and pain I went through and stood by me as I built my self up again. It was a choice I made, and as I look back at that decision, I am thankful I had enough strength and support to make it.

~*~*~*~

Not too long ago, I spent the evening with a cousin I had disconnected from since I got married. Initially, I had called her for help on a few logos, but I knew, due to our time apart and the “situation” that had been rumored about through the grapevines, I would be eventually sharing with her my story. I was ready. The years I spent picking up the pieces of who I was prepared me for moments like this.

As my cousin and I sat at the restaurant, we chatted about our lives today, the good times we shared when we were younger, and about the logos I needed. I knew the conversation was building to the one big question. Curiosity was glowing in her eyes and her strength to hold back was diminishing. Finally she asked.

Overwhelmed.

Sometimes we get swallowed up by life.  We get lost in all that we need to do, how we are feeling, the stress of what comes our way, what we want to say, and desperation to get it all done.  It is the feeling of being overwhelmed, and sometimes thrown into the mix for good measure is a dose of helplessness.  I have been there many, many times before and just recently, these past few days.  Usually it happens when we have so many things on our to-do list, deadlines to meet, pressure to accomplish it all, and need to get it done right, but what we don’t realize is that, this feeling is much more intensified when one has gone through abuse.

Do you speak “Abuse”?

Click here: “PLEASE BE ADVISED!” before reading.

“Secrets …

… We learn to hide each one of them from the eyes of the world, burying them deep within us, hoping that they will arrive in the land of the forgotten. Unknowingly when we do that, we inevitably keep ourselves chained to the depths of the fog he has created. We struggle against the chains, trying desperately to free ourselves, but the more we lock up our secrets and bury them inside us, the tighter their grip on us becomes. So we learn to cope, learn to believe what he says, and learn to understand that he is right … but still we silently pray, we silently hope, we silently plead with life to give us that one moment of safety to unchain us from our secret.” (excerpt from “Secrets.”)

~*~*~*~

As luck would have it, there comes a day when we find that safe moment. We gather all our strength and courage to share our little secret … but, unfortunately, most of the time we are not faced with that loving parent mentioned in “Secrets.” We find we are not sharing our story with the person we thought would listen to every word and scoop us up immediately to hold us close. We are sharing our story with someone different, someone who doesn’t understand, someone who doesn’t believe us. Someone that begins to sound like him.

Death by a loved one … poetry form.

Click here: “PLEASE BE ADVISED!” before reading.

This is truly not an easy read, and if you have not yet read “PLEASE BE ADVISED!”, I suggest you do so now.  I wrote the original version of this piece ironically on Valentines Day 2009 and edited it to this poetry version on February 24, 2009 for a contest on WdC.  The reviews I recieved told me how difficult it was to read through this piece, so I implore you now to be cautious of what you are about to read.

I remember when I first wrote this piece, the disassociation was significant.  The words came quick, flowed without hesitation, and it wasn’t until I was finished writing that I realized what I had written.  It took me by surprise when I read each word, and my heart grew heavy as the memory of these nights began to rush in, yet at the same time, I felt freedom.  It was the first time I truly spoke about this, without holding back, without keeping little details buried inside me, without hiding the little truths I thought didn’t need to be said.  I unchained myself, because I allowed my soul to speak up.

Today I share with you one of the “Secrets” I used to keep hidden for almost 10 years.

Secrets.

Click here: “PLEASE BE ADVISED!” before reading.

Secrets. We all know and understand what emotions and struggles come with carrying secrets, but do we all know, understand and comprehend what emotions and struggles come with carrying dark secrets. I don’t think so.

A five year old child knows the guilt and fear of lying to their parents when they say, “I didn’t break it, Mommy. Thomas (their three year old brother) did!”

Children automatically fear the anger, the scolding, the punishment. The disapproving and disappointing looks they’ll get from the people they love most. They tremble from the idea that their wrongdoing might lead to their mother or father no longer loving them, but eventually, guilt kicks in. The weight of the lie, the secret, weighs heavily on them. It becomes too much for them to carry. Some children can’t sleep, some can’t eat, some won’t even talk. The affect of the secret is so strong at times, they yearn for the freedom from the chains and then, when a safe moment arrives, the child comes clean and shares their secret.

Write. Share. Own.

I spent the day thinking about what to write, what to say … but the words never came.  I was left speechless, yet my whole body filled with so much emotion.  I decided to log-in to a site that used to be my home.  One that I spent countless hours at … spilling my heart and soul into every word, cleansing myself of the hurt, pain and tears, learning and loving myself, one piece at a time … and I remembered just how important it all was.  The freedom to lay myself bare and expose every haunting memory of what once was in a place that was safe, accepting and patient, is a blessing I will always cherish.  It is something we all deserve, something we all need.