It’s Been Awhile…What to expect

So I know it has been a long time since I have posted anything and I apologize for that. I have had so much going on that it has not afforded me the opportunities to really write the way I had hope…

Source: It’s Been Awhile…What to expect

Advertisements

It’s Been Awhile…What to expect

So I know it has been a long time since I have posted anything and I apologize for that. I have had so much going on that it has not afforded me the opportunities to really write the way I had hoped.

So what has been taking place in my life since you last heard from me?? Well to be completely honest…life was turned upside down and around for me. I had a very hard journey that I did not think I would get through. Here is what happened…

I was all set to watch my Goddaughters back in June. The weather was beautiful, I was happy and life was on the up and up…or so I thought. Then bam it hit me like a ton of bricks and I did not know who launched them at me or from what direction they were coming. I got so sick unexpectedly. I was just chilling when this crazy wave of nausea came crashing in and rendered me incapacitated. I mean I literally could not move. I was at my friend’s house when it happened and it got so bad that I could not stop vomitting. It was horrible, the toilet had become my best friend and I got used to hanging my head over it. Luckily for me my friend works in a hospital. So I asked her to let me ride with her to the hospital when she was on her way into work. She thought I was being a little irrational because it was like 4 maybe 5 p.m and she wasn’t going in till 11. I did not want or see the point in having to make an extra trip to the hospital earlier in the day, when she was going later that night. Anyway, there was absolutely no way to know that this sudden sea of sickness would change the course of my life in a major way. I was admitted to the hospital and truthfully did not expect to be there more than a day or so. I ended up being in the hospital for an entire month. It was followed by 8 of the hardest months I have had a to face. I will share what transpired in that time over the next several weeks or so. You will read what it is like to go from independent to dependent, from able to disable, from friend to friendless, from house to homeless, from health to sickness, from laughter to despair, from hopefull to hopeless, from faithful to faithless, from stable to unstable, from favored to unfavorable and back to grace and so much more. I will share my ups and downs and I hope that you will know that no matter what you face you can get the thorough it and darkness will turn to light if you keep looking and holding on. 

SICK Soul

My heart cries
While my eyes remain dry
There is a wound in my soul
My breath is more than cold
My spirit sighs
While my body lies
There is an infection in my soul
My time on earth grows old
Back to dust
ALONE I go
Gonna inhale on streets of Gold…
At least that’s the hope.

The darkest hour can turn into the brightest light! – Honesty

Weighing In

Sometimes we have those moments in life where we just don’t have the energy or desire to do anything. Its like the pressures of life just weigh you down to the point where its like you are trying to walk with an anvil attached to your leg. Ever feel like that?

Lately, to be honest, it has been very difficult to function. I find myself in an everyday struggle, often questioning what is wrong with me. I ask myself am I losing my mind? Have I lost my sanity? Are you like your mother? The questions just roll in the back of my head.

My diagnosis is Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, commonly referred to as PTSD and depression. However, I am a clinician and while I know I suffer from both, at times I think maybe its something more. And to be honest, I begin to feel inadequate as a clinician because I can’t seem to help myself overcome this weight that is weighing me down and taking over my life and daily functioning.

See, its hard to give the average person a look into the life or mind of someone who suffers from any form of mental illness because they don’t see the world the same way. So, let me try to explain what it’s like.

There are a few days where you feel great, and others where you just can’t figure out what the hell is wrong. Sure most individuals can relate to that because we all have good and bad days. But, what about when those bad days far outweigh the good days to the point where you find yourself in a pitch black place and no glimmer of light? It’s that point where you are tapped out, where you just want to throw in the damn towel and give up, because the idea of going on seems impossible. It’s that point where you have to say God, I need you to carry me because I am paralyzed. But meanwhile, you are trying to convince everyone that you can walk even though you can’t move because you require life support. Now, some of the general public without mental health issues may relate to wanting to throw in the towel because of stressors in life. But the reality is, most of those individuals actually know how to handle life and overcome the obstacles they face. It does not become an unremovable stumbling block that keeps causing you to fall. Whereas for me, for the person with PTSD and Depression, all you do is fall. To give you a visual, its like Alice in Wonderland, falling in the whole without any lights and never reaching the bottom, just an unending fall into a deep black whole. It seems like you can never pick yourself up because in front of you, all you see are replays of what went wrong. The videos of who hurt you and how they hurt you play like a broken record. Rather, they play like a movie where there is no pause, stop, eject or any button by play and repeat. Its like its indestructible because the main goal is for the image to destroy you.

Depression is a weight that seems impossible to carry. You don’t know what is the best way to grip it. Sometimes you think you are fine and busting out with a thousand bench presses that are weight less and then out of nowhere, you are trying to get this ton of weight lifted off your chest because someone put weights on the bar while you blindly blinked. And just like that, the pressures, the pain, the torment, the agony all begin weighing in on the same scale. At some point the scale is going to break because of the weight of the pressure. That is how life, my life seems to be more often than not. And while I try to lift the weight, even with my guide and spotter standing over me, helping to hold and lift the weight, the impression is on my chest. The imprint of the pain is there and keeps playing over. No One can stop whats embedded and imprinted. So, I get to the point where I question…hospital or no hospital? Psych ward or no psych ward? Meds or no meds? And then that makes me question my faith.

I am a Christian and I fully believe in the power of God. But my faith, I think part of it was crushed under the weights and I have not been completely able to make my faith whole and steady. I waver. I am not secure in my faith because I started seeing my situation with my eyes and not leaning on my faith and trusting in God. However, I do trust that God can get me to a place of wholeness. I believe that my writing, that this journey, my transparency will bring healing for me and others. Especially Christians who feel alone, and think that there is no other Christian who suffers in life with real issues because we portray something different. Truth is, we have to suffer because we were made in the likeness of God’s image. And when God came to earth, in the form of His son Jesus, he suffered. So if we are to be like Christ, that means we will also suffer like Christ. Likewise, that also means we can overcome and be victorious. There was no weapon formed against him that he could not beat, not even death. So, I believe that somewhere down the road, in this journey I will have life and have it more abundantly just at the Lord Jesus promised me. There is a light in the dark space, we just have to connect to the power source and flip the switch. Hold on don’t give up on the weigh in because that weight is really just how much strength and anointing you hold.

Yes, that is me encouraging myself and hopefully you the reader to press on. Don’t throw in the towel.

Forced Silence

Freshly raped
He didn’t have to use duck tape
To silence my voice 
I had no choice
My cries were drowned
Out and now down
He held me down 
Shoved it in my mouth
And made me suck 
Pulled it out and jammed it in
Why did he rape me again and again?

The darkest hour can turn into the brightest light! – Honesty

Quarters worth more money

I am a 80’s baby. The times were very different back then. The value of money was much appreciated. It was a time when you could get things for what we would call dirt cheap now.

5 pieces of bubble gum was a quarter
A bag of chips was a quarter
An icee made by mom’s was a quarter, didn’t matter the flavor.
A juice could be purchased for a quarter.  As a little girl a quarter meant I was able to have something tasty.

Now a quarter is simply nothing more than a measurement. It’s not enough to get a bag of chips, a piece of gum, let alone a cup of tap water or ice…NO FLAVOR. 25 cents means you hope for someone to add at least 3 more quarters so you can get something to hold you over even if it’s not tasty.  So imagine knowing your only worth a measurement.  Or what may have been a few pieces of gum that got extremely hard, tasteless and nasty after a few chews…

*** TRIGGER WARNING * * *

My biological mother had a lot of her own issues, but that didn’t mean she failed to make me apart of them. She is addicted to crack. A person addicted to crack will sell their soul to the devil if it means they can get high even for a second. They don’t think about anything or anyone but the high, even if it is the daughter or son they gave birth to. It’s all worthless or a quarter at best.
My mother would often take me with her on her runs. She would go to different men and offer herself, only she wasn’t all some of those men wanted. A trade off…a baby for a high.  I would be passed around, handled without care without regard for the fact that I was but a child defenseless and scared. The truth was I was to give these men tasted good to them. I was their flavor of choice. I was the bubble gum you sucked the flavor out. I was the icee used to cool off their personal heat. I was the bag of chips and all that used to ease their hunger pains. It was my juice they drank and craved and she freely gave all my goods away.

Imagine being raped, fingered, licked, tossed and so much more only to be told “you should get a quarter raise for being such a good B….” Imagine knowing that all you were worth is a quarter of tasty snacks, a quarter bag. My innocence, my purity,  my happiness,  my safety, my confidence, it valued at the price of measuring the next assaults that would total years of my life not the amount I needed to get anything of value.

Those quarters tossed at me…those quarter moments in time…they did not taste good. I did not want them. I never hung a for sale sign or open for business, yet somehow I was. This is unwanted business and today my shop is closed until my soul mate finds me. It’s worth more than a quarter. What I hold is treasure, it may have been handled by unwelcomed pirates, too many male dogs looking to mark their territory,  but the chest is now closed, locked and the key is with the owner and will only be inserted, turned, open and released when it’s ready to be found. I’m working to reclaim all the quarters not to be reach in money, but wealthy in confidence purity innocence and all that was unlawfully purchased for what can’t get u a bag of dirt now.

The darkest hour can turn into the brightest light! – Honesty

Christmas “Gift” Revealed

It’s been crazy this past week. It’s the holiday season and people are preparing for Christmas. 

This is usually a joyous season for most people.  However there are some people that with every holiday is a celebration of pain, loss, horrible memories,  or hardships. Some of us walk in oblivion,  thinking everyone is and must be happy go lucky. We couldn’t be more wrong.

For myself holidays are always hard. Not just because of finances, or loved ones that past, but more so because of the family that remains and the memories of past I hold.

I particularly always have more trouble finding happiness in Christmas.  It is one of the most festive and beautiful holidays of the entire year. The lights, the trees, the wreaths, the ornaments, the mistletoes, and of course the beautiful white snow. It’s all decor that would draw even the most saddest person to smile at the beauty and nature of the season. The idea of giving to loved ones, to strangers, to those in need, and to friends is more important than what we expect to receive.  For the Christian it’s the time of year that we acknowledge the birth of our Lord and savior. The date itself may not be accurate but His presence and life is what we celebrate.  Sometimes in the midst of the celebrating all I can see and feel is the hurt and “gifts of love” I received.

For years I have carried this present of misery given to me by my father. As a young child Christmas is the time of expectancy and excitement. It’s the time of anxiousness and trying to make sure you were on your best behavior so you could get all you hoped for on the big day. It was the time of running to wake your parents up, looking under the tree to find a gift with your name on, so you could tear the paper off to reveal….

Christmas quickly became just another day in which I learned not to get excited but stay guarded. In my house there was always a Christmas tree beautifully decorated with the Christmas musical train set playing the classic carols. Under the tree there was never any space to add a gift because there was a mountain of gifts purchased by my parents that always read, “love Santa.” Christmas in my household meant breaking out the camcorder to capture every moment of delight as each family member opened and revealed their gift.

This year 2014, I reveal my “gift” from when I was but a teen. I was sexually abused for years by my father. I kept it a secret from most because of the shame, filth,  guilt, and fear I felt. It’s not easy to hand someone a package with that kind of material and it’s certainly not expected, wanted or talked about at least not until now, this very moment in time.

I don’t write this for your pity or sympathy, but rather for my own healing and also that of other survivors. Too often we feel alone,  especially as Christians. We are taught we are new creatures in Christ and all things former have past away. As survivors we feel silenced and many are told move on, get over it…I propose it’s not that easy, especially when you feel alone and without support. So, here I share a small piece of my testimony in hopes that you who are reading this and are survivors know that you are not alone. Although some days and seasons may be harder than others there is always a light even in the darkest hour.

***TRIGGER WARNING*** GRAPHIC***

One Christmas morning I just laid in my bed in my room. I didn’t have the energy to get up as I was exhausted from the night before. The night before I was raped. I couldn’t believe that I was not afforded the night of Christmas Eve, technically the wee hours of Christmas morning time to breathe and just be a teen.  That moment in time was engraved in my memory the way a gift from Things Remembered are. This was definitely my “things remembered” personalized “gift” not from Santa but from my biological father.

That morning he came in my room while I slept on my stomach. He managed to position my too baggy night shorts in a way that allowed him ungranted access. My shorts were white with blue flowers, I loved them until that night. I awakened to my father thrusting himself inside of me. He had entered me illegally and from behind.  I could not move or shift his weight. I was in sheer terror and disbelief that this was happening and out of all days, on Christmas.  My thought was, is this really my freaking gift, only freaking was not my choice word. I was crushed.  And then it happened,  my body in the midst of my cries responded and I felt an electrical surge pass thru me that frightened and pleasured me all at the same time. I had no idea what was occurring in my body because I was not allowed to take sex education in school.  I was mortified and felt so disgusting.  As my father pulled out, he ejaculated on my thighs, panties and shorts. I did not know what all the white sticky stuff was, but I knew I didn’t like it, want it and that things were not right, but who could I confide in…Santa was not real, my bilogical mother was incarcerated, my step mother was moody and unpredictable at best and I had no idea who the Lord was at that time. I was lost. My father made me make him coffee after he raped me while he went and showered.  Can you imagine that hurt? I was the one who was violated feeling beyond dirty and yet he was the one who got to clean up. So, that Christmas when I went downstairs and there was no present under the tree for me, I knew my “gift” was delivered by my father. And I hated Christmas ever since then. I just couldn’t understand what I did wrong? I blamed myself and at times, actually most times I still do think it’s my fault. I tell myself you should have been able to fight him off, you shouldn’t have fallen asleep, etc.  Surviving sexual abuse is easy, living past the memories and hurt is the hard part. But this year, I believe Christmas will be great because now I have the Lord to confide in and He has placed some amazing people in my life to help me in my healing journey. Is this holiday easy, not at all but I hope and believe that I will and can find the beauty in the decor and the will to celebrate my life, my Lord, my family, my friends and the greatness that is gifted up on the inside.

So this Christmas,  my gift revealed is that I am a survivor of incest. I am an overcomer and I will not hide any longer. What my father and so many other pedophiles and child molesters do are wrong. The only way to help stop and prevent, to overcome is by breaking.the silence.  My soul may be wounded but my spirit is alive and whole. I’m integrating them by breaking the silence so I can be free and healed….my darkness is coming to light.

The darkest hour can turn into the brightest light! – Honesty