Not Mine

Recently I was blessed to hear Jim Woodford speak, author of “Heaven.” It was a moving experience for me, one that touched my spirit deeply.

That which impacted me the most was the description of the Angels. They of mighty stature and the purest violet eyes one can imagine, and then some.

He shared how they are with us always, from our first moment of formation til our last breath. The awe of this fact fills me even now.

With me always.

My Guardians of God, sent to protect, guide and comfort me.

Even then, in my can.

My can. This is how I think of my times tossed away into the trash, literally, by my Mother,for “allowing” my Father’s abuse.

My can.

Except now, God has used the vision of Heaven he gave to this author to comfort me in the now as the then is healed even more.

 

You see, I have often wondered at the fact that, though I remember the feeling of abandonment I felt those long nights, I have no memories of fear or loneliness.

I understand now… it was my Angels who sat with me. Who wrapped their wings around me, miraculously to fit within with me. They stood guard over me that no harm come to me, shielded me from the hot and the cold, loved me in my abandonment.

As God is waking me to this truth of those times, He is also showing me this…

It isn’t my can, it never was.

I was placed in the trash, discarded, tossed away, but it wasn’t my can.

I can release this time of abuse, for it was never mine.

I didn’t ask for it, as I was told.

I didn’t deserve it, as I was told.

I didn’t belong in the trash.

It wasn’t my can then…

And…

It isn’t my can now!

 

 

IN THE NOW

I haven’t written in such a long time… I ponder to think about this from time to time. Writing has played such a huge part in my healing. “Why, then do I shie away from it?” I recently asked Papa God. He has been awakening me to why, He is like that, always answering.The question is, am I listening, especially with a willing heart? I realize I haven’t been, the truth scared me.

I wanted to hide, not from the exact why, I didn’t really know that. No, I wanted to hide in general. It’s so much easier than processing. Thing is, that is only true in the short run. In the long one, hiding draws out the healing, freezes me in where I am.

Who was I kidding? Surely not my Abba, He knew right where I was.

Hiding hurts me, as I shut out the penetrating light of His touch. The, “Me first,” winning. Little, tired and fearful me forgetting who I am in Christ. Cowering rather than rising clad in my new self.

No more, I finally said to myself today, no more as I laid upon my bed feeling.

Feeling.

Oh, how I feel these days!

Ripples upon ripples to pass through me…

I lie still in the mornings as they wash over me, I relish them. Memories flood me of the here and now.

I am ok and…. it’s all alright.

So much of my abuse took place where I should have been safe. I am finding that these emotions are arising when I am in those places. Home to awaken peace, my bed welcome.

I realized something last night as I snuggled deep within the comfort of my bed. I have a stuffed lamb that is dear to me, it was gifted to me in the now, and it has helped the wounded little me so much to pull it close. Helped me in the dark of the night to remember that I am now and loved. The other day I found another stuffed animal, an old worn Owl. I smiled when I stumbled upon it, remembering how I bought it for myself the first Valentines Day I was alone after my husband abandoned me. I named him Who, so every time I pulled him close I would remember who I am to Christ, Who I am to others in the present, Who I am now. I placed Who on my Bed beside my Lamb. That night as I crawled into bed and I pulled them both close, I heard Abba say, “Your Past and Present are one, give them to Me, and we shall fuse them together into a glorious future.

This Lent, I offer to my Lord the sacrifice of my past, I offer my vulnerability I feel in writing to Him. I ask Him to use me, my writing, whatever and all I have to offer because of His grace and mercy gifted to me.

I arise now, and step from my hiding

place. Propelled forth of the wind of my

guardian angels wings, into the light and love of His waiting arms.

I now realize that I don’t need to leave His embrace to move forward, He doesn’t send me off on my own, no, He’s got me, tight… and won’t let go.

We journey together, sometimes I am carried, others we to walk hand in hand. No matter what, He is beside me, and I am never ever alone.

Even in my hiding, He sat with me.

Past and Present are together opening a new future.

Healing can only be as effective as the depth of my presence in the now.

 

I DON’T WANT TO

I didn’t want to go to Mass today, not at all. I woke full of flashback invaded dreams, remembered. I so wanted to curl in upon myself, drown in going away. Away from remembering, away from life. Stay in bed and pity my past me. To go where the victory of Christ is partaken of? Nope.

I wanted to be done, this journey seems never-ending at times. I will have my footing, then, wham, bam, I am down again. Down of heart and weary of mind. The final count to feel welcome. 1…2…3 she’s out!

Yep, that’s just how this morning was.

I was so lost in the feelings, the overwhelming emotions my child me suffered that my adult me wanted to throw in the towel.

I dreamt of the using and taking, the abuse rained down on me… thing is that wasn’t what was tearing at me when I woke. In my dream I was sitting alone, after, so forlorn. I was crying, not because of what was done to me, rather, because I couldn’t seem to dress myself. My clothes were inside out, a jumble at my feet and it felt as though I simply couldn’t do it. I cried that no one was there after, that I was so alone not only in the abuse but further abused as those that could and should have, didn’t as well.

Rather turned a blind eye, a deaf ear and an indifferent heart.

So, I had me a good cry to the Lord and begged Him to help me care in the now. He did, I still didn’t feel it, but He reminded me that I needed to go. I imagine my Guardian Angels wings whooshing as they propelled me forth. I certainly didn’t go in my own power.

Mass. The remembering and celebrating of the greatest sacrificial gift, ever.                                                              Mass. Where my Christ endured for me the very thing that I feel this day, betrayal.                                                                                               Mass. He to suffer again and again what was then for me in the now, flashbacks.                                                                                                                                                                                   Mass.

One of the hardest yet most helpful things for me as I heal has been to revisit the abuse and see my God there. Find how He was with me, yield the whole truth of then to Him that He be with me now as He was then.

This is what I was really wanting to hide from today, I wanted to give up and not do my part of the work in my healing. Imagine if my Lord had given up? Had called forth all of Heaven to save Him from the cross? He could have, yet He yielded, “Not my will, but thine be done.” He uttered to His Father.

So, there I was at Mass. A quivering, emotional mess, kneeling and crying, oh, so tired.

Then the homily was shared. Father to talk of how much we have to be thankful for. The beauty of life and creation ours to see, hear, experience.

It hit me then, all along I was heard, I was seen, someone was far from indifferent.

God my Father, Mary my Mother and Christ my Brother and Savior not only were then with me but are now.

I am home, now is safe, I have oh, so much to be grateful for.

For I am no longer then.

 

 

 

I AM…

I am the rainbow these days                                                                                                                   The color and beauty of my emotions vibrating                                                                                   They spill upwards for all are fading                                                                                             Flashbacks of feelings separate from the happenings                                                                         No more do the dragon monsters of then wrestle caged within me                                         They have been slayed                                                                                                                 Replacing the darkness with the brilliant light of present                                                                 I live in the light                                                                                                                                           Breathe its sharpness in to cut out the then                                                                                           I exist from inside out spewing forth life                                                                                             I’m among the living now                                                                                                                       No battle scars as they burst out of me                                                                                                   They do not matter for they are not who I am                                                                                       They are not my reflection                                                                                                                         No.                                                                                                                                                                 My me is a rainbow of truth now                                                                                                               My me is light and love and now                                          My me is gloriously free                                                         I am me                                                                                     I am alive                                                                                   I am color and light and love                                                                                              I am a rainbow flowing free                                                                                                                                                     

 

NEW YEARS EVE ALONE

 

 

2016 found us last evening.

I spent mine home, alone.

Away from partying and celebrating, no other person around.

No televised broadcasts of dropping this or that, no cheering or reveling.

I quietly saw it pass and loved doing so.

Reveled in the contentment I experienced in being by meself.

This is a bit of a miracle for me, a sure sign of healing.

Holidays always are a challenge, in one form or another. Some to be triggers to abuse gone by or remind me of how alone I was. Oft I would find jealousy knocking much as Scrooge did watching Tiny Tim’s family through the window.

New Years Eve saw me not even giving this a thought beyond to be thankful to my Lord that He has healed me so much that it is natural to live in thankfulness, to see the beauty of what is now as it literally obliverates then from my heart.

I enjoyed a quiet night home, doing things i find relaxing and bringing in the New Year just the right way for me.

New Years Eve alone, a precious, cherished memory.

 

New Years Eve alone, that I experience contentment with self, celebrate the joy of life in Christ and come to understand that I do belong, I am loved and I am someone too.

Happy New Years to me and to all of you.    

 

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

“I AM ME”

This is an article from Committedtofreedom.org I rarely repost something from someone, but this so slammed into me when I read it, I simply had to share! So much me is in it. Simply read and be impacted. God bless.

The Still Photograph Part of our Short Story series during the holidays. We all need a break, and this month, we’ll be sending you short stories instead of articles. We hope they will inspire, encourage, and strengthen you. Let us know what you think.

Mrs. Periwinkle had cornered yet another member of the Community Ladies Guild to show off her daughter’s latest school pictures. “Isn’t she adorable? Isn’t this just about the most precious picture you’ve ever seen?” She never gave anyone time to respond to those questions, she simply moved on to another person, then another, loudly declaring the perfection of the photograph. Her daughter, Penelope, was a kindergartener when that particular picture was taken. Mrs. Periwinkle loved it so much that she had it enlarged, then had several dozen copies of the photo developed. She glued some onto cardboard boxes, which she positioned throughout the house. One was set on the kitchen table at Penelope’s place. One on her pillow where she usually slept. One on the couch, one on the porch swing, and one in the passenger seat of the family car. She also glued a flat wooden stir stick on the back of one so that she could carry it with her where ever she went. It was a kind of photograph puppet.  In social settings – such as parties or meetings – she included the picture puppet in conversations and soon, people spoke to the puppet, just like Mrs. Periwinkle did. She even made one of the pictures into a mask and commanded that the little girl wear it at all times. Eventually, Penelope stopped speaking and became as silent as the still photos that surrounded her. As children will do, the girl grew and changed, but the only “Penelope” her mother and friends saw was the kindergarten schoolgirl in the pictures mounted on boxes, a wooden stick, and a mask. Years came and went. The kindergarten photographs had become cracked, faded, and frayed. Nevertheless, Mrs. Periwinkle ignored the signs that time had passed or that changes were taking place. One morning, Penelope – who was now a young woman – looked at her mask’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. For quite some time, she had noticed a growing irritation where the mask rubbed against her skin, but she ignored it. But this particular morning, the irritation had become very painful – unbearably painful, in fact. She squirmed her forehead, tightened her eyes and lips, scrunched her nose, and massaged her scalp, hoping to silence the inflammation, but nothing helped. She became more animated in attempt to find some relief and without thinking, without hearing her mother’s instructions to keep the mask on, she ripped it off on an impulse. She howled with relief, as her face was flooded with air and light. For the first time in over a decade, Penelope wore no mask. No longer was she frozen in a time and space that was no more. She splashed her face with water and then dared to look in the mirror. What she saw took her breath away, because she saw – herself. Changed. No longer a static being, she was vital and free from that still photo that masked years of growing and becoming. She ran into the kitchen and ripped the still photo from the box, then to her pillow and the couch, the porch swing and the passenger side of her mother’s car. She tore them all to pieces then put them in the trash can. Somewhere in the yard, she could hear her mother chatting away with someone. Her voice grew louder as she came closer to the house. Closer. Closer. Penelope opened the front door for her mother, who was – at that moment – having a lively conversation with the picture puppet. Mrs. Periwinkle gasped, shocked to see a strange young woman standing in her foyer. “What are you doing in my house? Who ARE you?” she demanded. Penelope grabbed the picture puppet from her mother’s hand and tore it to pieces, letting them fall to the floor. She then leaned in close to her mother until their faces almost touched. “I. Am. Me.”

LITTLE DO THEY KNOW

“Mary, did you know?” is one of my favorite songs. Did she know what her baby boy was destined for? Did she know how her, “Yes, Lord,” would resound through the ages? Did she know?

I wonder that today about folks around me. I wonder, “Do they know how much they have touched my heart?” Do they know that some of the simplest acts they extend to me reach to the depth of my heart and soul?

I think they don’t.

How could they unless they understand the horror of my childhood?

To understand is to have lived it and I am thankful they haven’t.

Yet they know some, and in that knowing they show and give me so much. Often unknown to them.

So it was today.

A hug, a kiss upon my cheek and an, “I love you,” that, totally took me by surprise. Stopped me in my tracks as I looked in wonder at him.

Simple everyday acts to most, so amazing to me.

You see, my earthly father is dying soon. I have been confounded by this, confused in how I feel. Sad at times, for what should have been as a daughter, while empty at others because of what was that shouldn’t have been. Mostly I simply accept that he is passing as all humanity does and I pray that God grant him mercy.

Then today, someone who is a Father to my friend,  treated me with the dignity a father should a daughter.

I am proud of myself that I don’t feel all like I am his daughter, that was a struggle for me in the past. The overwhelming desire to claim someone for my Father and Mother.

No, this is different.

I simply cry at the way it felt to feel safe in a father figures arms, safe in the world, loved right, mattering as someone not something.

I feel as though I can’t say this right, I do know, I feel it right.

It is as though it is an it’s alright your daddy is leaving, others here and now, your family of God, we have you.

We will keep you

We will love you

And we will give it all with Christ like love

Safe

Secure

And as love is meant to be

http://fascinately.com/feel-good/2014/11/incredible-performance-of-mary-did-you-know-will-get-you-in-christmas-spirit/

DAUGHTER OF THE DAY

 

But friends, you’re not in the dark, so how could you be taken off guard by any of this? You’re sons of Light, daughters of Day. We live under wide open skies and know where we stand. So let’s not sleepwalk through life like those others. Let’s keep our eyes open and be smart. People sleep at night and get drunk at night. But not us! Since we’re creatures of Day, let’s act like it. Walk out into the daylight sober, dressed up in faith, love, and the hope of salvation.

1 Thessalonians 5:5-8 (MSG)

Daughter of the Day, I heard this phrase at church last week. It struck me then and has been with me since.

Daughter of the Day.

It made me feel secure at first. Safe. I was overwhelmed with gratitude to Abba, God that I am safe now from the darkness of the abuse. That I need not fear the descent of night anymore or the darkness of memories.

Daughter of the Day, His day, light and love mine, here and now.

As the week passed I felt it even more. An awakening is happening. I am as one emerging from a cocoon, from Darkness into Light, from Night into Day.

All of me is awakening to this truth, to being alive, Night always meant death to me, of body, feelings and my existence. Day would often bring a continuance of those horrors so I was trapped in night. Living in darkness of the truth of even my.

No more.

As a Daughter of the Day I feel me. I am finding how amazing life is and discovering myself.

It started with washing my hands. I to be enthralled with the feel them, the emerging of the bubbles while rubbing them together. The water so crisply cold or warm. I splashed it on my face and marveled at the wonder of being clean, feeling clean, wanting to be so and knowing I can.

Sounds ridiculous to many of you, and that’s ok, it is only for those who never have had that the understanding exists. I am thankful there aren’t more that havent.

Now?

my body is awakening. I am finding a deep love of music to the point that I dance with it, hang on the words and smile. Hunger finds me that I cannot ignore it and full follows with a realization that I can eat whenever I want so its ok to stop when my body says enough. The way emotions flow from head to toe, waking up to feeling my body. Knowing when I am tired and need rest. Not judging myself harshly or pushing to hard. Even understanding that my mind to has it’s limits.

I am a Daughter of the Day. His Day, My life His.

Tammy of God, awakening to all that living is.

 

CORE REACTOR

I realized something today about me.

It began with getting dressed this morning. As the weather changes and I find myself aware of the cold as part of my healing I want to dress warmer. Perhaps some long sleeves or maybe even a sweater, I will think. I have some, ones that have caught my eye because they are purple, some because they feel so soft and I imagine how comforting it would feel against me. I get them, but wearing them, that’s a whole nother story.

You see, I panic. Become all frantic and paranoid. Just have to rip them off or I can’t breathe. Then I stand there lost, fighting for control. striving to ground myself to here and now. For to be warm is just one of the many things I was denied for a period of my childhood, that now I struggle to accept. I can know I am cold while convincing my body I am not. Safer to not need and such.

 

Or so it can seem. But I am healing enough that I know when I am perceiving wrong sometimes, knowing needs to lead to changing. So, today, I spent time with Abba asking Him to help me understand this panic and apprehension. To understand that I may overcome.

He opened my heart to the truth of these feelings. Helped me to fathom that they are being fed of something. One doesn’t just panic unless they are panicking about something. I wondered, why am I apprehensive.?

What is the core reactor issue.

Then I knew. It is fear. Plain and simple. Fear.

This surprised me, I thought I had this fear thing under control. I mean, I don’t run away and hide like I used to. I share with people instead of keeping things bottled up. I trust my Lord, I feel safe in my home, safe in the life God has given me. “How can this be fear,” I thought.

But Abba always bring me to truth, so I needed to stop asking how and denying the fear. I need to turn to my Jesus and give the fear to Him.

I know this won’t be easy, I know I will need help and will have to push myself. Time to thank the Lord for my body and the way He created it, hear and feel what it is telling me. Treat it with love and respect. Dress it warm, even wear shoes more.

Allow my Abba to change my core, to one that learns to love me as my fear is yielded to Him.

His Peace the only kind of core reaction I desire.