DROWNING

So much assailed me yesterday. So many emotions found me. I was upon the sea of them, floundering unto drowning, lost.

There was no life boat, nothing to cling to that I could see. How could I ground myself if beneath me was simply more tears, if the sadness was drowning me, if the anger stirred up the storm even more and I was all alone in the vastness of it?

I was drowning I was sure. For each time I opened my mouth to call for help it seemed naught but more of the emotions rained down to be swallowed til they were swallowing me.

I wanted to simply let go and sink. To stop fighting and just be done. I didn’t care of the depth was dark and lonely, to let go would end it I was sure. I could journey elsewhere and forget, even if elsewhere required drowning, so be it I thought.

Yet, I couldn’t. Not the real me deep down inside, the part of me that knew  my God was in this storm. To believe He is in control of all my life means the storms as well.

So…

I turned my face to the Heavens as the circumstances of this storms creating pelted me, the lightning flashes of the anger I felt seemed to be striking me as I was tasting the salt of the tears I was drowning in. I let them come. I accepted the anger as mine to sit with. I acknowledged that I had a right to be so, while asking the Lord to cleanse me of it.

Then I realized that the sadness was being fed of the anger. That they were the stirring of this storms wind and buffeting. I though I will drown from within so I must let it all out.

I cried, again and again as my body curled in upon itself and wept with me.

I was adrift and alone.

I was lost and weary.

I wanted to stay this way and wait for a hand to reach for me, for someone to come and see me and be with me, I wanted a person to know.

In my wanting of this I was really doubting God was enough. I was saying I know you  are in my storms, Lord but I need more that just you.

How human of me.

God wasn’t having any of it.

He pursued me, all the while, He does that.

Finally, from the depths of my despair I looked up.

Finally, I cried within, “Save me Abba.”

He scooped me up, pulled me close and sat with me. The storm raged still, but seemed less pelting for He overshadowed the brunt of it. In His embrace I found it was ok to cry. It was safe to feel the sadness and that the anger wasn’t worth the energy it pulled from me.

Now I am beyond this storm, and I am ok.

Alive and still me, weary but safe.

It isn’t the end of the world, the sadness is real but the rainbow is already spreading across the sky. Tomorrow is real and beckons, one that God already has in His hand.

So sadness and anger, all of the emotions of life are safe.

As long as I stay and walk hand in hand with my Master.

 

 

I am…

I do….

I will.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NAMING AS IS

I remember when I doubted myself, when I thought there is no way the abuse happened to me. Perhaps I remember wrong or the feelings are causing me to over react. It couldn’t have been all that bad, I am still here after all.  I would say to my first counselor, “Why do you believe me?” 

Looking back I realize now how much I was living my past. My reactions to things that others took as normal were always so on edge or set me to panicking. I had triggers everywhere it seemed. One doesn’t get that way without reason.

So, i would face those triggers once i recognized them, head on. I would slowly build my ability to do things i couldn’t by pushing myself. Wear a scarf around my next totally loose til eventually I could tie it, finally have it close to my neck. Wear it for it’s purpose without thinking and feeling and remembering the abuse.

Long road this is, still fighting the battle is some areas. Healing is that way, a process, one that may never be done this side of eternity. Such is the molding and healing of our Lord, all good, all to His glory, all in His perfect timing.

The last few days I have been finding myself on a new path of healing. My mind being opened to perceiving things differently, with more of a focus on the truth of my past.

I often feel, yes, I lived it. I don’t doubt that anymore but I think I am unaware at times what I lived. The true depth of it, the truth of my existence, the substance of it.

You see, some one has made a few comments that have given me pause. Mentioned how I how much I have suffered, used the word brutal to describe my childhood.

When they said this it got me to thinking, wondering what does that word actually mean, especially in relation to me. I didn’t like what I found.

bru·tal

ˈbro͞odl/

adjective

1. savagely violent.

   “a brutal murder”

   synonyms:

   savage, cruel, vicious, ferocious, brutish, barbaric, barbarous, wicked,murderous, bloodthirsty, cold-blooded, callous, heartless, ruthless,merciless, sadistic; heinous, monstrous, abominable, atrocious “a brutal attack”

I looked at each of these words and thought, “Does this fit, Lord?” He to prompt me to say this out loud, “My childhood was savage, my childhood was cruel and vicious, etc.”

I said them, all the way through, crying. Gentle tears of accepting the truth that it was. I asked Papa why I needed to admit this to myself? Why can’t I just say it was hard and uncomfortable?

He answered me, as He always does.

It’s simple really, not the process, but the reason. How can I say I have given all my pain and suffering to my Lord if I don’t claim it to yield it.? I can’t. Just as the path to Calvary is seen in all it’s pain and suffering that we truly understand so must my abuse be for me.

So I have been sitting with the emotions these words awake. Sitting with god and yielding them to Him. In the process I am finding my gratitude to Him is swelling as well. His powerful touch of healing on me and in my life even greater than I fathomed.

My childhood was brutal,

Yet, so was my Lord’s crucifixtion..

and…

look at How God uses that!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE VALLEY OF THE LULL

 lull

2:  to cause to relax vigilance <were lulled into a false sense of security>

*http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/lull

I had a flashback in my sleep last night. Yes, they can happen that way. Ones dreamscape to become the abuse relived in the mind. Sometimes when life takes curves and turns into new territory my emotions and memories race alongside in an effort to heal by catching up. Hence, a flash back this time.

I am growing and as with all of us, growth means change. To explore these new area s of maturity, ones that I would have experienced as a child and teen, even some as an adult, if abuse hadn’t been present oft-times means a cleansing is needed. The old wrong must be flushed from my system that the new can take root and grow healthy and right.

Wrong to stop feeling right as God intended truth gains ground.

A hard process, a long one, but such a precious one in the transformation God is working, in my heart, mind and body.

So it was even with this recent flashback, for it was different than usual in that I didn’t wake to find no control. I wasn’t desiring to flee or hid, it didn’t scare me or overwhelm me. No, it was more of a struggle to move forward. I sat beneath the heating vent just to feel something present, full blast at that. I called a friend to know I told someone, that I could do that, leaving a message when she was unavailable.

Then,  I went about getting ready for work.

Yet, I did so, in a lull. My mind foggy, thoughts drifting, processing drained.

I found myself in this valley of lull for quite some time, hours. Every action a conscious effort, I felt so drained.

My friend called me then, once she was free. What she said pierced this stupor I was floundering in. “Remember to pray, bind up Satan and all His stickiness,” as she oft-times puts it. I don’t recall her actual words, but my spirit knew from past battles.

My heart heard, “Fight the lull!”

The clouds cleared a bit then, when I hung up, and holding my head in my hands I breathed, “Papa, help me, please.”

A groggy prayer at best, but God always hears, understands our plea even when we don’t know what to ask for.

He spent the next few hours nudging me to cling to Him, hold tight that He could lead me into the light, a glorious light full of the warmth and rays of the Imacculant Heart of Christ. I feel the touch of it even now as I revisit, my Lord so close.

“Lull” a false calm in the storm

Satan tried to trip me up with this today. He failed. He always shall fail.

For no matter how blindly I may stumble, my Abba holds me tight, loves me tight and leads me on.

His voice to my abused and battered, child and woman, I was, all the lullaby needed to heal.

“This is what the Lord says— he who made a way through the sea, a path through the mighty waters, “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.”

Isaiah 43:16, 18-19 NIV

REIMAGINE YOU AS YOU!

I don’t often reshare, but this has so much truth that I am. Praying it blesses you as much as it did me.

Reimagine You as YOU!

To be subjected to sexual trauma and abuse distorts how you think about yourself. If you had these experiences when you were growing up, you came to conclusions about your value. If a predator or a passive bystander didn’t value you, your boundaries, or your humanity, it’s pretty easy for you to believe that you have no value or personal rights. If you had these experiences after you became an adult, where you once might have felt empowered and able to take care of yourself, you now know that you weren’t as strong or empowered as you needed to be.

These experiences shape – or re-shape – how we think about ourselves. We hear it from survivors all the time: “I feel as if part of me died.” The actions of predators and the inactions of passive bystanders twist in your mind and heart until you begin to see yourself as they saw you. You begin to value yourself as they valued you. Their warped disregard for you and your well-being often translates into a kind of personal derailment of the life you should have been able to live.

The tricky part of recovery is to be able to pull apart the tentacles of lies that have attached themselves to your soul. It is to untangle the deception and free yourself from its grip.

Think about how the actions of the predators and passive bystanders communicated their view of your worth. Now, ask yourself if you believe THEIR value system. If you can see it for what it is – that you have accepted THEIR twisted reality – then you can insist on redefining yourself in ways that are true to your value and personal rights.

Here’s a fact: they were wrong. Not only in what they did – their actions – but in how they devalued you. They were wrong. They were wrong, wrong, wrong! Got it?

So, take their definitions of you and dump them in the garbage where they belong. Take the time to think about yourself, untethered from their warped ideas. Reclaim you. Reimagine YOU, not as they saw you, but as you see – or want to see YOU.  And remember: “Create the kind of self that you will be happy to live with all your life”

(Golda Meir).

Written by Sallie Culbreth and Anne Quinn

©2015 Committed to Freedom / STAARR – Sexual Trauma and Abuse Recovery Resources

WAS, WASN’T/IS, ISN’T

 

I stand before a mirror these days, many mirrors

For within I am but a House of Mirrors

To look within one is to see another

Stretching back to was and wasn’t, as far as my inner eye can see

Each mirror seems magical

In a curious sort of way

 

For though they are now

They show me then

To stare into one is to glimpse a was

While living an is

I have fallen down the Rabbit Hole

Where up is down, down is up

Then and Now having collided

It is so easy to keep my eyes downcast

To hide

This I am good at

To hide was safe, then

To touch wasn’t

Reaching out was fearsome

Withdrawing secure

My mirrors show me all of this

Hiding is not safe, now

For it will end all that has begun

So, I lift my head

Open my eyes

To see

What is

What isn’t

To shatter the lies

With the truth

I am not alone

So I can smile in all my then fear

I am surrounded of Heaven

Mama Mary beside me now

Holding my hand reassuringly

All of Heaven here

 

For many of my mirrors reflect my Momma of then

I was to not touch her

Never to look her in the eye

To want attention meant harm

“See me Momma,”

The unuttered cry of my child’s heart

I look rather upon Momma Mary

She smiles back

This is safe

So I reach out

Hesitantly, unsure

I touch ever so lightly

To find no rebuke in doing so

My touch welcome

I accepted

The  mirror cracks

Was and Wasn’t shattered

As Is and Isn’t remain

I have many such mirrors

Within my house of me

Yet, mirrors is all they are

Easily vanquished

 

Pieces to lie at my feet

The colors of now

Reflected in them

A rainbow

Of love within

 

 

 

Upside down

Turning right side up

 

 

 

IN THE TELLING

So little can seem like so much sometimes.

This morning does. A simple dream, puzzled together of past and present, like an awakening.

These times are like rising from a fog, limbs heavy with the emotions of the memories as I must choose.

There are forces within, battling, you see. Past and present swirling about, vying for me.

These are the hardest of hard times for me. How I simply want to go back to sleep, to hide in slumber.

Waking is never easy these days.

Grounding myself in the present is what is needed, the only way out.

Abba is always with me, I have all of my heavenly family watching me and drawing me out, I see them and love them, beckoning smiles and arms held open, inviting really. I always look to heaven first, my true home, my heart’s sanctuary. This is my present truth, that which floods me with emotions that are present to drown out past, the angels sing the glory of our Lord, and I can open my eyes.

Yet, humanity is still where I am, thought I would love to sit at Heavens gates all the day, life calls. I am reminded, as I turn to embrace the day that my Abba has purpose for me here, I am honored to fulfill it and serve Him.

How much I am loved and seen and heard.

Heard being the one He is waking me too now, In the telling.

Someone told me a few days ago that I, “Can tell them anything, that they want me to.” How I have sat with these words. Such a flood of emotions flows from my head to my toes as I savor the, I, Tammy, can tell.

In the telling shall be no more secrets…  no more hiding… no shame,  no matter the horror…

In the telling I can free the nightmares that haunt me, loose the bonds of then… find release

In the telling lies are shattered that the truth of them burst forth, shiny and bright, dispelling darkness.

I feel these words to such a depth, “I can tell.” It is as a vanguard before Satan that shouts, “I am telling! You have no power, for Jesus loves me and has given me someone to tell! Go away, I am washed clean in the blood of Christ, I am innocent. It wasn’t my sin and it won’t become it!”

In this someones listening I am safe, heard and free of blame. I am given understanding and love, seen as a person not an object. I find that I have a voice, my feelings matter, consequences are not the end of the world and won’t bring me harm.

In the telling I feel so shattered sometimes, the gentlest of touches to take me by surprise, voices to reach me in the fog, as I find it clearing.

In the telling the fog will lose…

For In the telling…

I am rising with the Son.

^“So, what do you think? With God on our side like this, how can we lose? If God didn’t hesitate to put everything on the line for us, embracing our condition and exposing himself to the worst by sending his own Son, is there anything else he wouldn’t gladly and freely do for us? And who would dare tangle with God by messing with one of God’s chosen? Who would dare even to point a finger? The One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us. Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture:

They kill us in cold blood because they hate you.
We’re sitting ducks; they pick us off one by one.

None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us.”

 Romans 8:34-39 (MSG)

I AM BLESSED

I am weighted down

full of the abuse gone by,

the memories invade me

a stream of visits,

a turnstile of arriving,

never-ceasing

past remembering of that

which sank me lower to lower                            

my bed to carry my frame…

imprinted upon it.

for I was no form

rather a mold.

shaped to serve their sinful choices.

there was no me there,

only survival

I was strong for I had to be to survive…

I was indifferent in an attempt to convince myself that it didn’t matter.

I was anger and sorrow intertwined,

filled up of others sin

that I…

boiled over…

with wrath at the injustice.

I screamed out, in all the wrong ways.

for I was not heard, not seen, a no one to them.

an object to be forced down,

every part of me ground up.

I hated their faces full of leering and wanting and taking always

I went to my can…

with joy.

telling myself that if I curl up tight,

I can make-believe I am be within a womb

I can pretend tomorrow will be new’

that I am in the womb and will be reborn.

but, it never worked

I was still trash to her,                             

and his toy.

each day a horror I lived

so I became anger at night

indifference by day

i survived, I did

but now I am weighted with the memories

seeing me,

seeing them.

they are like lead drowning me in my slumber,

crashing into my dreams…

waking me.

that I must pull myself from this lostness…

this fog…

find me.

then I can be full of truth instead.

I resist the urge to go to where peace is,

to curl up outside, safe…

to be waken in love and gentleness,

to be found this time,

wanted and soothed.

I am going now, instead, to sit and be in Heaven awhile

Momma Mary is smiling at me,

she knows and is whispering, “Come.”

she will wrap herself around my nakedness

Abba will stand guard.

I can go home now…

to them

home.

it feels as somewhere I have never been,

that now I am.

and oh, how, precious beyond precious, it is.

A SHOE KIND OF DAY

“Be prepared. You’re up against far more than you can handle on your own. Take all the help you can get, every weapon God has issued, so that when it’s all over but the shouting you’ll still be on your feet. Truth, righteousness, peace, faith, and salvation are more than words. Learn how to apply them. You’ll need them throughout your life. God’s Word is an indispensable weapon. In the same way, prayer is essential in this ongoing warfare. Pray hard and long.”  Ephesians 6:15-18a (MSG)

Anyone who knows me is well aware of my “shoe issue.” I smile as I type this. Smile because I know many of you are doing just that, thinking, “What shoes?”

Now I am chuckling a bit.

Shoes, they aren’t really my thing. I am more likely to be without than with when it comes to them. Oh, I have lots of them, tucked away in a magnificent antique box that I found, perfect with all its cubbies. Thing is, my shoes spend more time there than on my feet.

I do love some of them, how they are comfortable, I don’t buy them if they aren’t! No high heels for this girl!

I just don’t wear them at times.

How could I revel in the walking through the rain puddles if I did? Feel the texture of the earth beneath my feet? I feel so much with my feet!

Yet, I am learning that there are times for shoelessness and times for wearing them.

After all, going barefoot in the snow, as I have often, isn’t good for my health. Caring for my feet requires shodding them in the heat, guarding them from harm.

So,  shoeless kind of days are less.

Today, Abba, woke me to this about wearing shoes.

But let me start at the beginning.

Yesterday I interacted with someone who put me on edge. The type of individual who raised a red flag for me as a sexual abuse survivor. He made me very uncomfortable as we rode the elevator, I found myself putting objects between us and guarding my answers to his questions.

Protecting myself, that’s what I was doing.                           

Wearing my shoes.

Big Girl shoes.

Safe Girl shoes.

I wore these shoes with confidence.

I felt grounded in my present.

No more barefoot used and tossed away.

No

This is the pair of shoes I found myself wearing yesterday…

Fearless ones.

Beautiful to look upon as they were embellished in Christ like  gemstones

Yet, well made that they not give.

I wasn’t afraid.

That’s big for me. I have had a lot of opportunities to fear these last few months, and I have found myself on the side of that fear way to often.

I have coward and shrunk back, cringed and claimed false blame…

Yesterday was a no more kind of day…

A shoe one.

I am allowed to guard my self,

I am secure in Christ and that means a world of difference, all the difference,

Yet, only if I shod myself in this truth,

I do.

 

With gratitude, in awe, and in praise.

Oh, I shall still enjoy strolling barefoot from time to time, splashing through the puddles..

Smiling as I do so, 

For these feet were made for walking and that’s just what they do!

Only, now they go with truth and love,

Now they walk with God.

Gotta go, it’s raining!

ALIGNING STRENGTHS

“Put your back into it!”

“Foot Forward, be ready!”

Watching your footwork, blocking, parring and rolling along with slipping and countering are all moves studied by boxers.

Moves that help them discover their weaknesses and find their strengths.

Defensive moves to offensive.

Fascinating stuff to read that God is using to teach me too.

I woke this morning with something someone said to me once rolling around in my thoughts, “I need you to align your strengths with the Lord, too, not just your suffering”

I truly had no idea what this meant, read and reread it so many times, asking God  to show me.   

He has and is..    

Today He gave me this vision…

“My Guardian Angel, Angels actually, for I am surrounded of them. How they fight for me. I see them now, in battle, defensive with swift swords and eyes ablaze. They never falling back in fear or doubting the victory will be theirs. The stand tall and true, backs straight and shields ready. Fear does not control them, they know they have the advantage, the power from on high.

Thing is, I see myself as well, and it isn’t a pleasant picture. I am in the center of my defenders, cowering. Down on my knees, head hid as I peek out. I am not viewing my wall of defense as that, rather I shiver, looking for a break to happen. I expect them to fail, am sure that I will be breached.

“You are wrong!”, my Heavenly Warriors shout at me with a mere look.

I cock my head and ponder this, looking down upon me. I see this armor of God I am clad in. It has seemed so heavy that I was unaware of what this new weight was. Not the pain and abuse gone by, as I thought, but my new me clothed to fight. I simply haven’t been putting my back into it, I have been choosing to hide.

“Do it!” the clanging of their swords command.

Uttering a plea, to my Commander and Lord Jesus Christ, for strength, I rise, slowly yet steadily to my full height. I am taller than I  can fathom, the mighty coursing of my blood sounds in my ears with each sure and steady beat of my heart.  It was I, my fear, that was the breach. Victory is what is happening around me. How I long to taste it as well, put an end to fear and doubt, being used and discarded.

My Lord nods at me as He motions to the fray.

A smile plays around the corners of my mouth as I nod back.

I am ready, I have strengths that are more than my weaknesses and an army to fill the gaps as needed. This battle was fought and won. upon Calvary, the blood shed for me then ensures my path onward, upward and forward.

There is no going back unless I choose so.

I don’t, not anymore.      

I kneel, one last time, here amid my Angels. I kneel in surrender and humbleness before my Lord. I bend knee to He who is worthy and gratitude. I kneel with strength and assuredness as He helps me rise and says, “Go forth, Tammy Anne of God, you are mine, freed to win.”

“A SOFT PLACE TO FALL”

I spent part of my morning just now scrolling through the link to a church I used to attend, one I left under duress. I thought that I would like to visit there, just show up out of the blue.

No reason, just because.

Or, so, I thought.

But, Abba, is showing me there was reason.

Wrong reason.

No, it’s not wrong to want to see old friends, to visit and remember, as long as it’s for the right reasons.

Mine isn’t.

No, I want a soft place to fall toady.

I am ashamed to think that I would sacrifice my Communion time with my Lord, in my Home He has me in here, for this. For arms of old and love gone by rather to be desired more than Mass, more than the gift that the Eucharist is to me.

But, I do.

I want to belong in the way that I have belonged for long. Old connections, remember this and how about when we did that, kind of way.

A soft place to fall, this is the way a blogger describes her home for taking in unwanted, abused children. That the battle still rages for them but bringing them into their home gives them a soft place to fall.

Abuse never gives a soft landing, healing doesn’t much either most of the time.

I fall on face, flat and hard so often

Did lots this last few weeks.

I feel bruised and beaten, weary and worn, I won’t lie.

I am tired

I want to go home

I want daddy to make it all alright and momma to hold me

I want to fall and give up standing

I want to yield

Point fingers at those in the past, “You left me, after promising to help me.”

Thing is, that is all the pain talking, the loneliness seeping out and the past feeding now

So, I won’t visit these friends today, that would just be a band-aid

Instead, I will heed my best Friends call,

“Are you tired? Worn out? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Matt 11: 28-30 MSG

My Jesus call.

I will come to Him, fall into His gift of the Eucharist, of His life for mine.

I will see Him upon the cross and know, He too desired, then and there, to go Home to Heaven

To fall into the arms of the angels right off that cross rather than bear it,

He didn’t yield and neither shall I, because of Him.

Momma Mary, she took Him off that cross so lovingly, gently and full of sorrow for all He endured.

She will hold me too, today, if I just ask and let her.

So, I will visit my friends, sometime, but when I can with a right heart.

Simply as friends.

Now, I must go and sit awhile with my Papa, God, that my heart be right when I go to Mass soon.

Home there, to Him, His presence and keeping, His arms sufficient, my present home the one He is building.

I am home, always, everywhere, with my God.

I fall into Him alone.

In His mercy and grace He always to catch me.

“Greater is He who is in you (me) than he (Satan’s tool, false belonging) who is in the world.” I John 4:4 KJV