My Broken Pieces

Broken-Glass-official-image

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.

 

 

 

 

The Residue of You

images3PB3QA2A

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.

wallhaven-178641

The Lost Wanderer (Part 1)

umm

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…)

Have You Ever Wondered?

untitled

Have you ever wondered why?

Why he or she covers up the lies?

Why he or she doesn’t just leave?

Why he or she cannot see what you see?

Have you ever tried to understand?

Walk in his or her shoes if you can?

Ever think of the dangers that are at hand?

Do you realize the mental control that is in place?

Do you know the things that he or she must face?

Do you know what is possibly at stake?

How much careful planning it all takes?

Before judging and assuming, before victim bashing.

Be aware. Aware of the things that are most likely happening.

For a victim of abuse they may not be aware of the choices they have.

They may feel like no one cares.

Take into consideration of the brainwashing.

Being told that no one loves them.

Being told that it is their fault and that they deserve it.

Abuse goes so much deeper than a physical wound you may happen to see.

The mental, verbal and emotional abuse is not seen by the naked eye.

The invisible scars that lie deep beneath and hold so much control.

Have you ever wondered?

Have you ever really just wondered?

Why he or she is so closed off from the world?

Why he or she does not trust a single soul?

How hard it is for them to gain back their own self control?

Do you know what it is like to be a prisoner in your own mind?

To feel trapped even after you have already escaped?

Triggers: A scent, a sound, a touch, a day, a time, an event, a number of things that could send a person spiraling backwards in their healing.

The panic and anxiety attacks

The not wanting to leave from under the covers of your bed.

Never feeling safe.

Always feeling alone.

And you wonder why he or she goes back?

The sweet lies that drip from the tip of the abusers tongue.

The lies that have the victim turn back and run.

Run back to the arms of the one who causes the most pain.

Blinded by the disguise.

Not seeing their own demise.

All in order to feel “loved”

Have you ever wondered?

How he or she got there?

What has them stuck there?

Have you ever taken the time to fully understand?

What it is like to be controlled by another persons hand?

How someone once so strong could be so fragile?

How someone with so much confidence now insecure?

How someone who once was so full of life can now be so passionless?

Have you ever wondered?

What can you say?

What can you do?

To possibly get them to see the truth?

Truth is..

You can tell them until your face turns blue.

It isn’t that they don’t hear you or want to hear you.

They need to see the truth

For themselves.

They have to see their way out.

They have to see that they will be safe.

They have to get to that point.

The point where they have had enough.

Their eyes will be open

Where they will soon realize.

Everything that was said

Was nothing but lies.

It was all a disguise

To try and paralyze

A caterpillar from transforming into a butterfly.

Have you ever wondered?

Triggers and Flashbacks are not Setbacks

shutterstock_184502975

Hey everyone, first let me just apologize for being absent as far as blogging, I know I have some very supportive readers and followers who look forward to my blogs. After reading this particular post I believe it is safe to say that you will all understand why I have been absent. It was difficult for me to start writing this, and took me a couple weeks to even begin writing gain.

Triggers and flashbacks.

I hate them.

I mean i really HATE them!I had a trigger on Sunday June 20th 2016. I was on the train headed home from work and it happened. The train stopped at the station behind the apartment building where I used to live with my ex, our bedroom window faced the station. I had looked up from my phone and out the window, when my eyes locked dead on to one of the windows of the apartment where I used to live at. I was overwhelmed with emotion, after all these years. I got chills looking at these windows. I literally got goosebumps all over, and I could feel myself starting to panic. When I looked at the windows there was this dark eerie look to them, yet the sun was still shining bright.

It was like every single emotion I had ever felt in that place came rushing at me. Flashbacks of him clenching his teeth. Flashbacks of him choking me. Flashbacks of him pushing me on to the bed and straddling over me, punching the bed close to my head telling me if I move the wrong way and he hits me it is my fault. I could hear him. I could hear all the disgusting names he used to call me. All the things he used to accuse me of. It had all flooded my mind in an instant. For a time I was angry at myself for even allowing it to effect me the way that it had.

The one thing about triggers is that they can honestly happen at any given moment. Certain things may always be something we know as a trigger (scent,smell,sound) while others may not be so common but can abruptly cause a trigger; especially when someone is under a huge amount of stress, and believe me these last few weeks at work have been mighty stressful.

But this trigger was different, and maybe even one of my worst ones yet to date. It felt like the air had been knocked out of me. I was practically choking on my tears fighting them from falling down my face until I got off at my stop. My throat felt like it was closing up and my heart was beating at an incredible rate. My hands were shaky and sweaty. As soon as I stepped off the train at my stop the tears began to fall. I could no longer control it. Getting into my mothers car she asked me if I was okay. I told her “I will be okay.” One thing I love about her, she will never badger me for information; if I say “I am okay”, even if she knows I am not she knows that eventually I will come and talk to her.

Trigger definition

(from http://psychcentral.com/lib/what-is-a-trigger/)

A trigger is something that sets off a memory tape or flashback transporting the person back to the event of her/his original trauma.

Triggers are very personal; different things trigger different people. The survivor may begin to avoid situations and stimuli that she/he thinks triggered the flashback. She/he will react to this flashback, trigger with an emotional intensity similar to that at the time of the trauma. A person’s triggers are activated through one or more of the five senses: sight, sound, touch, smell and taste.

The senses identified as being the most common to trigger someone are sight and sound, followed by touch and smell, and taste close behind. A combination of the senses is identified as well, especially in situations that strongly resemble the original trauma. Although triggers are varied and diverse, there are often common themes.

Types of triggers:

(also from the website http://psychcentral.com/lib/what-is-a-trigger/)

Sound

  • Anything that sounds like anger (ie. raised voices, arguments, bangs and thumps, something breaking).
  • Anything that sounds like pain or fear (ie. crying, whispering, screaming).
  • Anything that might have been in the place or situation prior to, during, or after the abuse or reminds her/him of the abuse (ie. sirens, foghorns, music, cricket, chirping, car door closing).
  • Anything that resembles sounds that the abuser made (ie. whistling, footsteps, pop of can opening, tone of voice).
  • Words of abuse (ie. cursing, labels, put-downs, specific words used).

Smell

  • Anything that resembles the smell of the abuser (ie. tobacco, alcohol, drugs, after shave, perfume).
  • Any smells that resemble the place or situation where the abuse occurred (ie. food cooking ,wood, odors, alcohol).

Touch

  • Anything that resembles the abuse or things that occurred prior to or after the abuse (ie. certain physical touch, someone standing too close, petting an animal, the way someone approaches you).

Taste

  • Anything that is related to the abuse, prior to the abuse or after the abuse (ie. certain foods, alcohol, tobacco).

I share this because I want people to know that they are not alone. That even years after leaving I still have triggers. Yes it is possible. I know it is something that we do not want nor like dealing with, but it is something we have to live with due to the trauma(s) we have experienced. What we can do is learn how to deal and cope when we do experience triggers and flashbacks.

The thing that comforted me; was when I spoke to someone about this trigger event and she shared with me that she too deals with triggers. She said “90% of the time I am fine, I am okay. But then there is 10% where I am not.” That is exactly how I feel, 90% of the time I am good, but there is and always will be that 10% where I will have bad days, I will have to deal with triggers but I will pull myself together and come through it and you also will pull yourself together and get through it. Always remember that triggers and flashbacks are not setbacks. They are a part of us, but they do not define us.