My Broken Pieces

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When your biological father doesn’t love you, it cuts you deep.

It leaves you vulnerable and weak.

Leaving you open to predators

Who seek to do nothing but devour you.

When your father doesn’t love you

It leaves you searching for it in the wrong places.

It leaves you craving it.

No matter how it is that you taste it.

Love is all that you want.

Love is all that you long for.

To be loved.

It is all you dream about.

You fall for all the lies.

No matter how big or small.

You will go through it all.

You stick with the bad and go through hell.

You let him continuously keep you under his spell.

Because nothing else matters when you are being given what you so desire.

Whether it is real, or all a fantasy.

It satisfies your craving.

Even if it is only temporarily.

 

My broken pieces I’m left alone to pick up off the floor.

On my own to make myself whole.

No one but me.

Me. Myself. And I.

 

When the first man you ever loved.

Shows his true form.

Things you said you would never allow,

Now have taken your freedom.

He uses his tongue to cut you deep.

You lay in the dark afraid to sleep.

He wraps his hands around your neck until you pass out.

He has no fear in killing you, have no doubt.

 

My broken pieces I’m left alone to pick up off the floor.

On my own to make myself whole.

No one but me.

Me. Myself. And I.

 

 

 

 

Continuing Thru The Obstacles

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I am a survivor. I come with a lot of baggage, I will be first to admit that. Things that don’t bother or set you off, can send me into a whirlwind of emotions for days. PTSD. One of those things I had to learn to live and deal with. It is a part of me. It is not something that just goes away.

My past has made me very alert to a lot of things. It is a good thing but also a bad thing. Sometimes I tend to get defensive when there is no need for it. It is as if at times I feel like I always have to fight for myself. Like a bad habit. I had to fight to survive for so long that is almost as if I am programmed to always be ready to fight.

I have experienced new triggers, learned how to get through them instead of just avoiding whatever the trigger is. IS…not WAS! I believe that the triggers don’t simply just disappear over time but they become less frequent as we become more aware of what those triggers are and also as we learn to cope with our day to day activities.

Over the years I have learned a lot about myself, even more so thru writing my blogs. I didn’t like everything that I learned, but I learned to accept it and to change what I was able to change. I have learned to love and accept all aspects of me. How can I expect others to do so if I am unable to? How would I be able to know what I deserve if I do not even know what I am worth?

I am a survivor. I come with a lot of baggage. No, I don’t want to unpack my stuff with just anybody; that goes for both friendships and relationships. If I decide to unpack it is because that person has earned my trust. Which is hard to gain in the first place. If I decide to unpack, please be patient with me. Let me take my time carefully unpacking, carefully exposing my scars.

Continuing thru the obstacles, climbing over the walls, jumping over the hurdles and running this race called life. One day at a time. One obstacle at a time. Realizing that I may not make it through that obstacle the first time around but always getting stronger and better for the next time.

The Lost Wanderer (Part 2)

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A few minutes later she was finally gone.

Out of hell she escaped.

Without nothing, not even a scrape.

The butterfly had found an opening in the window.

And started to fly towards a better tomorrow…..

On to brighter days she thought to herself,

Not knowing that there would be new obstacles.

These obstacles would be different though.

The obstacles of the mind.

She wanted all memories erased.

Unfortunately she realized this would not be the case.

It took a long time for her to be able to function properly.

Years of torment, years of abusing herself.

Years of hating herself.

Seeking for love by any means necessary.

The lost wanderer, searching for her place.

Trying to figure out life on her own.

Through trials and tribulations she endured.

She survived.

For so long she hated the word survivor.

It wasn’t until years later she wore it like a badge of honor.

The butterfly now soars sunrise to sunset.

Freely to higher heights.

She found her path and destiny.

Each day comes with its own set of challenges.

Each day she continues to grow and strengthen her wings.

No longer lost, she now wanders with love, hope and courage.

Searching for those who are in the same space she once was.

Searching to empower, searching to encourage and searching to inspire.

The Residue of You

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The residue of you.

It doesn’t take much to remember the pain of you. The first man I loved. My first hero. My first heart break. You are the reason for a lot of my firsts, but you were never a part of many of the important ones. Shit, you never even came to my graduation ceremony they held for 6th graders going on to junior high. You sent your girlfriend. You replaced your children with whatever bullshit you felt was more important to you at the time.

The residue of you, is why I think I have so much trust issues. Not just with men, but people in general. My sisters used to say I was “daddy’s princess” when we were growing up. Man, did you prove them wrong. You told me I was a mistake.

People say to forgive and forget, how much easier it is to say then to do. I find it incredibly difficult to forgive the one man who is supposed to protect me from most of the things I have had to deal with growing up. Then again, how can a man teach his children how to protect themselves from men like himself? How can a man like himself teach his children how a man is supposed to treat his daughters?

You were never there, therefore YOU DO NOT GET CREDIT, in the process I went through in becoming the amazing woman I am today. You do not get to say that you are proud of me for my achievements when you were never there to guide me. NO! You do not deserve to bask in my success. You have no part in it, therefore you will never reap from it.

I used to always want to ask you why. I used to think maybe that would help me get over it. As I got older and wiser I realized that not only would I most likely not get the truth, but that it also just didn’t matter. The truth is that you are a selfish human being. The truth is that you just don’t care. The truth is that you are exactly like your own father. Irresponsible and selfish.

I am now in my thirties, have not seen you since I was about ten or so. The last conversation we had I was days away from turning twenty-five. As far as I’m concerned that last conversation is just that; our last. Again, I fell for a chance to reconnect with my father. The hopeless little girl inside of me got the best of me. All that got me was another let down, another scar tatted on my heart. You had the chance to talk to one of your daughters after all these years went by. Even though you didn’t deserve it. What did you do? Instead of talking to her, you said you had to get off the phone because you were crossing state lines. That sir, was it. That was the last knife I would ever allow you to stab me with. That was your last chance.

I have gone through so much and have grown even more. Yet, the residue of you still remains. We nicknamed you the seven year curse, then it changed to the three year curse, because you seem to come around every seven years then it turned to every three years. A curse because with you, comes nothing more then bad memories. With comes so much hurt and pain. With you triggers a whole lot of different things that none of us want to remember.

Triggers: I seen someone who had similar features to yours. Well, what I can remember of you. I instantly got angry, I was instantly reminded of all the lies and false hopes of you.  All the verbal, emotional and physical abuse that was done. The best yet, remembering the fight I fight each and every day to prove to myself that I do it all on my own without you or anyone else. The fight I fight because I know that I am better off without you. The fight I fight that because of you, I learned self-love is the best love.

So no, you will never be given credit as to the woman I have become. I am who I am because you were never around. I am who I am because my mother is all that I had. I am who I am because I witnessed first hand the strength and endurance of my mother. I learned how to fight through life because I watched her fight.

The residue of you, won’t be allowed to set me off like it has in the past(I’m working on that) but the residue that you left behind I will use as a reminder that I am only me because of those who took time and sacrificed in order for me to get here.

 

 

Reflection Over Troubled Waters

I’ve always been drawn to water. I love the oceans, lakes, and ponds. It is as if it is my own little piece of heaven. The place where I can let all my thoughts run wild and yet at the same time I can still feel at peace. I can scream out all my pains without fear. I can cry my deepest cry without judgment. Then, as soon as I have pulled myself together I am literally face to face with myself. Looking at my reflection on the water. Sometimes the body of water may be peaceful, with my reflection gently resting on the surface. Other times the water may be rough, chopping my reflection up.

During these times where I would see my reflection over troubled waters it was like another reminder to myself. Reminding me, that no matter how rough life gets I will never be overtaken by its circumstances. No matter how large the waves they will not drag me away from my destiny. The current at times might slow me down, but it will never stop me from reaching my destination.

Life has tossed me around like an ocean during a storm trying to drown me in sorrow and depression. Just when I thought I would be lost at sea and soon forgotten about, the waves started to slowly calm down. When I felt weak and thought I could no longer keep my head above the waves a deeper strength from within carried me through.

The storm had passed but the choppy waters still remained. I had managed to escape trauma, but the recovery process was just the beginning. Through the waves of life I managed to rise back to the surface after each crashing wave had ferociously crushed over my fragile body.

I am a survivor of many forms of abuse. I made it through the darkest of times. I learned to love my reflection even if it was over troubled waters, not just when I look at it on the gently pond. I have learned to embrace myself even when I am being tossed around in the raging sea.

My reflection over troubled waters, is a reflection of my strength. A reflection of my perseverance and a reflection of my hope. My reflection over troubled waters is a storm all of her own. Never to be broken. Never to dissipate.

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The Lost Wanderer (Part 1)

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She was lost in her own hell.

Barely holding on.

She thought she knew better than to sleep with the devil.

His lies kissed her lips and she was gone.

His masked disguise left her blind.

Her strength and courage was sucked right out of her.

She was a dead woman walking.

Scared to cry out for help.

Scared to run away.

She held back her tears and carried on each day.

Not knowing how much more she could take.

Not knowing if tomorrow she would awake.

Walking on eggshells.

Plotting every move.

Who could she tell?

Life was what she had to lose.

She was lost in her own hell.

Not some fictional fairytale.

This was real life.

Every day was a new fight.

Fighting for another breath.

Fighting until there was nothing left.

He beat her down with his words.

His tongue was like a double-edged sword.

Her self-confidence.

Her self-love

Her self-control

All of it stripped from her.

She no longer had her identity.

She saw herself through the eyes and the lies of the man she once loved.

Her self identity became his insecurities.

Her pureness in his eyes were now impurities.

Until one day.

She woke up.

Woke up determined to break free.

She had had enough.

No longer blind

She mustered up enough strength to fly.

She was determined to survive.

Her soul revived.

Her heart strived.

She was born again, she had had come back to life.

She made a plan of escape.

Taking every precaution.

She was going to leave no matter the fate.

She was willing to claw her way out if she must.

The day had come.

Last night was the final straw.

He had choked her until she passed out.

She couldn’t take anymore.

Her life in his hands.

She knew his final plan.

She made arrangements early the next morning.

As she started gathering her belongings.

Scared for her life

She was ready to fight.

He was sound asleep

As she started packing her things.

Just as she was about to leave

He opened up his eyes.

He saw all her things and said

“You’re leaving me?”

In an instant flashbacks of past threats flooded her mind.

But she had already decided

Not this time.

Her inner warrior had awoken.

She finally stuck up for herself.

She told him she was leaving and that was that.

He slowly got up.

Her eyes followed his every move.

Her ears in tune with every step.

What was he going to do?

Out of all the things he had threatened.

What was going to be his first move?

He showered and dressed.

Not saying a word.

No sound was made.

No sound was heard.

He grabbed his keys and as he turned to leave.

He turned back around and said

“Good bye (Name)”

Goodbye? That’s it? She thought to herself.

As she heard him open and shut the door.

Something must be up.

She phoned her ride and explained that he had left.

A few minutes later she was finally gone.

Out of hell she escaped.

Without nothing, not even a scrape.

The butterfly had found an opening in the window.

And started to fly towards a better tomorrow…..

(To Be Continued…)