Trying Times And Times Of Trying

When I considered writing my own blog, it felt somehow narcissistic for me. I had read many blogs written by others and not felt that way about theirs but I seemed to hold it differently when it came to my own writing. Whether it would be the daily diary styling of TVs Doogie Houser or a safe place to vent the warrings of my soul, I couldn't decide, but I knew for certain that I wanted it to be real.

Ever since I can remember, I have been so guarded with my words whether spoken or written that it is difficult to communicate in complete sentences without fear of hurting someone else. So, I tend to stop and stammer quite a bit when I talk. It can be extremely frustrating for those trying to converse with me, as it is also for me to fully communicate with them. Writing is the easiest way for me to get it all out and control what is said.

Like many other survivors of childhood abuse, I have great difficulty saying all of what was and still is so. Keeping secrets, telling half truths, and protecting those I love from the full truth and any possible responsibility they might take on, has been my ultimate strategy in any writing process. I learned my part so well that I actually became the keeper of the secret truths. Though the truth may set you free; it still can create intense pain in the process. So, in order to spare others pain I keep these truths from them.

In trying times, I usually avoid certain loved ones as much for their sake as for my own. Of course, some may simply see me as a coward, but after many failed attempts to help them understand, they just don't get it. So,  there's little point including others in a reality they can't accept or deal with. Though, I wish it were different, it isn't.

God alone knows how I have tried to break the cycle of deceit but time and again it has been turned on me. So, I love them from a distance and pray that God will help them see me through His eyes. Because He witnesses everything that occurs between his children and He knows the full truth and can be trusted not to hurt me with it.  The illusion that others realty want to understand has long been shattered for me. So once again in trying times, I'm practicing times of trying to be real and let Him sort it all out as He sees fit. 

Jesus, Please Just Hold Me A While

When I get a little scattered and can't seem to collect myself, I can only ask My Best Friend To Sit with me and hold me while I gather the fragments and with His help, try to put them into place. Some days, I don't get a hold of every loose piece, but His holding me seems to knit them all back together in a workable way. Today is just one of those precious days when I find myself resting in His arms while He makes me whole again.

I  wrote this on June 3rd, 2009. It's my Mom's birthday (one of her favorite holidays). My birthday was only three days later and she used to say I was her belated present. Which made me smile and still does when I remember those words. We used to celebrate our birthdays  together like they were peices of cake. She has been gone now for forty three years. Birthdays were special when she was alive. She was different during those moments, more focused and in control of her self. There was always a homemade cake, house was decorated with at one or two presents for both of us. 

We were always together on those dates as though they were sacred somehow until I got to high school when she would wake me early for cake and presents, then send me off with my friends.