Personal opinion and thoughts are solely my own, mentioning of course, the use of other material in a point . My opinion is not for everyone and I understand and respect that. Please show the same courtesy! Thanks
I wanted to write today, on something. I am not really certain how to go about writing, though. As I browse down the list of posts on my WordPress reader option, I am taken back by some posts that bring things in my own life to the forefront.
Isn’t it odd how something you can see or read can cause many things to flood into your mind? I am concerned , not only today but everyday on the lives of others around our world. There is a lot of people missing out on life and living it to the fullest, me included. I see people walking around with so much on their plates, hearts, and minds. I constantly hear of tragedies and trials that await people, everywhere in our world. Personally it makes me sad. We have to be careful not to take upon our heart the troubles and sadness of others in a manner where it takes over and spills into our own lives. Sadly, it has trapped me some in knowing what those things have been personally, for me, and replaying them while watching them play out, in others lives.
I hope you can follow me. My mind talks so fast, it is hard to put down into words as my fingers try to keep up. I am often concerned to no avail to, honestly. I cannot personally take care of everybody or their problems, and if I am honest, no one is asking me to. Do you follow me? We cannot personally do everything we need to do, we are simply human.
Okay enough about the depressing thoughts of not being able to help solve everyone’s issues or being able to change things.
I saw a post this morning about emotional abuse and it had me thinking… After reading the first part of my post, you probably already know I think. Hahaha. the emotional abuse post had me thinking on how people everywhere in any kind of relationship experiences emotional abuse on some level and in some way. So, It usually does not last long or cause substantial damage, but if we were to think about it, it has more than not happened. So, what makes it abuse? I think it is when someone uses their motives, ways, words, etc., to sway or move, or damage, or imprison another. If it causes the other person to feel less than desirable, un important, or damaged, it is abuse. Abuse is ugly and it usually has a keeper and a prisoner to it.
Emotional abuse is wrong, so if you are a victim or you see it happening, ask and seek out help. A lot of places stay anonymous and let you stay hidden enough that you can freely seek help.
Living in a situation less than desirable is hard enough, but living without love and acceptance is a hard “pill” to swallow.
So,
With all that being posted, “thank God”I am free to think on other things. I really let things dwell deep into my soul. I felt I needed to post about that. Perhaps someone reading this has been there, is there, or like me, struggles everyday to release their selves from past abuse.
Did you know…that by writing posts, or what have you’ s that you directly and indirectly influence another’s life? You DO.
Please be good to others, please be kind to yourselves!!!!!!!!!!!!!
We get this one lifetime to do good, use it wisely.
I shall see you this side of the RAINBOW!!! MwsR ❤
I was just a kid. I hurt the same as anyone else. I guess maybe more since a kid tries always to imagine a good world. A world where no one whispers in their ear how stupid and gullible they seem to be. A world where magic lies in wait around every thought in a pleasant kid’s dream. I never had much of those kinds of dreams, it would seem.
I often visualized unicorns and stuffed toys, real animals, and lots of fun. Seldom did I dream at night, of glorious things, I had too much fright. I often looked at my curtains and all the different designs they had. I would make out a figure or object from the designs. Sure that there was meaning in those things I picked out of the different designs. Actually thinking back, it was tricks of my mind. How you can see something that actually is not there, because you have imagination with a flair.
Sometimes at night I would cover myself from feet to head, with covers and stuffed animals I had on my bed. I hoped that whatever was out in the night, would leave me alone because I felt I was hidden. Sadly, I never was. I know that now as an adult looking at the life I had as a kid. As kids, we think we can hide from things, I guess that with me it was the same.
A kid should never have to worry about being hid, if they do then something is really wrong. In some cases, it is an active imagination that lends way to being scared. In other cases, it is a human being that actually frightens the kid in a un intentional way or a very intentional way. My case was the latter one.
It was simply not my fault that I felt afraid. Not my fault that I wanted to hide away. I was simply trying to be okay and stay that way. I did not trust in no other way, except what I create , to protect me. I just knew no adult would believe me. I was afraid to tell anyone how I felt, also I did not have the words with which to adequately say how I felt.
No one acted as if they could tell, not my present family members, not my church, not my friends or my teachers. I felt like the only person in the world who had a secret. I felt like my secret was one of shame. I often took upon myself the blame. It was not my fault, I see that now. I wish my adult self could have talked to my kid self. I would have warned her and shared with her that is something not her fault, something that should have been noticed, seen by others, and nothing self-taught.
I would had given her, my kid self, a big hug and tell her to tell. When she cried at night as much as she could, I would have wiped her tears and loved her. I would had stood right by her bed as she slept through the night, and in case she woke up with a heart full of fright. I would protect her, my kid self, I would love her like nobody else.
I deserved to be a kid, have kid dreams, have a kid fun-filled life. Instead I had nightmares that came in at night, and during the day. My nightmares came from those with two legs. I deserved to be loved and told I was actually fine the way I was. I deserved to be told that I was a blessing not a curse. I deserved lots of love and a safe place to be…I deserved it, I was a kid, you see.
This kid grew up and became like I am today. Too much hurt to bury, too little love to stay in that place. I separated myself and those I now love. This was an act of love not hate. I wanted to be free from that time in my life, it had changed and taken so much for me, I did not want to give it everything, I did what I had to do, I did not want to forever be ‘blue”.
I had to forgive, first and foremost to continue living in love. I took my power in doing that from Heaven above. I in my human state would had only lived with a bunch of hate. If someone has done you wrong and you cannot forgive them, you give them power over you. Forgive them, it is so hard to do, but you must. You deserve to be whole and you deserve to be loved. You deserve to love again. So forgive them, I know you can.
What seemed innocent enough at first, quickly became much more twisted and demented. If you were an onlooker at my family you would think everything was as it should be. You would see members of my family as very nice, helpful and charming at best. If you were fortunate enough to ever visit, you would see a place where people of my family ate, slept, and played. There would be pictures on the wall of times past, and people at varying ages, usually of us kids. There would be no full family picture though. You never saw all five of us. My father would excuse himself in one way or fashion just to never be photographed. I guess you could say he was photo shy. I am not sure. Each family member had their personal things there in our house, and to onlookers we were completely normal.
My mom went faithfully to morning Sunday worship and never went on Sunday nights because she was not allowed to. She worked a fulltime job and my father worked a fulltime job at the same place he had always been. He built furniture for a living and he was top-notch at building almost anything a person would want. My mother was a supervisor at her many sewing plants and she was excellent at making anything you could possible want for clothes or otherwise. Both my parents were very skilled at what they had interest in and that was something they made a careers in their life. Neither of them graduated high school. Neither of them went to college, but through the devotion they had for their jobs they excelled there. I admired their tenacity and to me I thought they were both very smart.
My mother attended everything I participated in at school and my father would never. He did not like crowds and he rarely ventured anywhere else besides his job place and home. If he needed something he would go to the closet convenience store. Attending my school functions were not top on his list of things to do. I had often asked him to come but he would give some lame excuse as to him not being able to come. It got monotonous asking him, so eventually I came to expect him not coming. I often had to make my own bogus excuse as to why my own father never came. I played lots of basketball, volleyball, and cheerleading. I also performed in chorus events and competition, so there was always plenty of opportunity to come see me. I was sad that he thought no more of the things I was interested in . That was just one of the many things though that no one never really knew about my family.
I was the middle child and to say that my position was the best in the family would be one of sarcasm. For it was not the best in fact it felt like the worst possible place to be. I was never the oldest and never the youngest, so that meant that the special things those positions had , I did not. Instead I got hand me downs and was the one always responsible for my younger sibling and their mishaps and I was not old enough to do any “firsts”. I instead made the best of the hierarchy I was in. I learned to take what good I could and run with it.
Man, there is so much in between background in my life that would make your heads turn but I will try to make this shorter than it really is, for the sake of keeping your interests.
So moving the timeline up further into my teenage years…
I remember spending many overnights with friends and it usually would be on a weekend since I was not allowed to spend the night with anyone on a school night. I would usually go home with my friend from school letting out and stay till Saturday morning sometime. I really enjoyed getting away from my family and my house because thing there could not had been more disturbing and complicated for me.
The things that were happening at my house, in my home, no one knew about. No one came riding to save the day on a white horse. The things that were happening I was having to deal with all on my own. I was always looking for a way to be gone or separated from my family back in those days. Even if it was riding to the grocery store with my mom. I always asked to go when my mother was going somewhere and I always asked a friend if I could spend the night with them.
I liked seeing how normal families lived. I would study their behaviors as if I was writing a novel. I sometimes secretly wished that they would let me live with them because frankly, I was looking for an escape from my home life. I wanted to live in a normal, healthy family. It was not too much to hope for, or at least I did not think so back in those days. I would study the family dynamics and roles that my friends family had and how they interacted with each other. Often I really could not imagine my family ever being that normal. Mostly I prayed at night that mine would change. Sadly, it never did, in fact it kept getting stranger and harder to live in.
Where can a teenager go when the family they are in does not want them anymore? I often cried myself to sleep wondering why my life was so hard and what did I do to deserve the way I was always treated. Maybe in my mind I blamed it on growing up and getting older. Maybe I even blamed it on my ways of thinking or my need to be loved so much. Was it possible that I was asking too much out of the family I had?
I knew I was far from being perfect and that sometimes I had to be difficult to parent but I feel my actions were always in pursuit of my not wanting to disappoint or fail as a child. I was not the smartest, in my family, nor was I the perfect kid but I darn welltried. Sometimes I would forge a signature on a bad grad that I got in school just so I would not disappoint my parents. I sometimes lied about doing my homework and sometimes I was in trouble for talking in class, but generally I tried. I have to admit I had a lot on my mind during those school years and I know that affected my way of learning and the attention or lack of attention I gave to something in school.
I remember one time opening up to a teacher about things at home. This was during a time when my mom had went in for routing tuba ligation surgery after having my brother. Her surgeon had cut the wrong thing and she almost bled to death from it. I remember the hushed talks my father and grandmother was having about her and it scared me to death. I would sneak onto my parents bed and sniff my mom’s pillow and pray to God that she would come back home. I needed my mom and I was really having a hard time. I jus knew that he was near death and that she would be in the hospital for a while. I told my teacher this, I confided in him and he did not care. He had brought me out in the hall and was telling me my grades were bad, that I might fail my class if I did not get it together. I explained that I could not concentrate because my mom almost died and was not home yet… He did not acknowledge that but instead wrote a letter to my parents to be signed upon arrival at school the next day. I just knew my father would not be happy that I told my teacher our personal business, not to mention that I was failing so I forged my mom’s signature. I knew that it was wrong but still. I say that to say I was far from perfect. I also passed that class with a D. Yay for me. Or was it?
Certainly things were stressful at school, stressful at home and on top of it all I was feeling scared of my father and unwanted by my siblings and I dreamed of better days.
My father was not the most loving person and he only should an interest in things that he really liked. Things like me…
My father and I had an unhealthy relationship in my teenage years. He would manipulate me and I feared him. Often time I was nothing more than his personal helper. He summoned me to bring him coffee out to his garage/workshop and he had to have his coffee one way and one way only. If I got it wrong, he would grill me as to why I did not love him enough to get one simple thing right. He would tower over me and intimidate me, so much so I usually ended up crying and trying to re-do whatever it was that offended him. He was 6 feet tall and I was 5’3″ at best. He could make me feel so very small. I never understood what love for him had to do with what he wanted me to do for him. That was one of the multiple things I dealt with. Funny thing is he never showed this interaction with me, when another person was around , especially my mom.
I think he knew when to do things and when he shouldn’t. He was very sneaky.
I remember when I first took interest in a guy from church. When he fund out, he was once again trying to intimidate me. He would use questions like, “You would replace me for that guy, would you?” or ones like “Why do you need a boyfriend, you have me, ain’t I enough?” ” Don’t let me catch you kissing on another guy,” he would often say. That behavior seemed odd to me, and I often wondered if he was jealous and why in the world would he be, he was my father.
She always did see things from her skewed perspective. After all ,that is what she had been told since she was just a young thing. Normal was really not a word you would use when describing her. She had a face with freckles and her eyes were blue, matching her inner heart. Her ambitions in life were too simply live a fuller and more loved one then she had before becoming an adult. This is a story of a the Blue Hearted Girl, Blue was her name.
Blue often sat out in the woods not far from her home. The spacious woods were her calm place, her place to pretend and feel safe. She often pretended to be running a motel and the creatures in the woods, all the way down to the bugs she would find, lived there. She enjoyed hearing the birds sing so sweetly to her each and every day she arrived. She thought they actually were singing to her. This was how her imagination worked. In her pretend world she was loved by all that met her. She loved this pretend world and that was what she ran to as fast as she could each day. Her family life was not as enticing as the pretend world and she really felt like a stranger there and she felt left out. in her own home.
Blue often went for a walk to her creek out back of her home. She loved wading in the creek and also gathering clay from the creek bank. There was lots of clay in her creek. She really never made anything significant but it was fun to sit and manipulate that clay into whatever she wished to make. Once Blue saw a beige snake in her creek, she watched it wiggle free of the creek’s current and crawl the creek bank to dry land. There was lots to see at the creek, She remembers her father telling her that every animal around there comes to that creek when they were thirsty, so she would often just hide along the creek bank and watch with much anticipation as to what came there . That creek, in a lot of ways, taught her about nature.
Blue had a younger brother and an older sister, and she fit right smack in the middle of their ages. She was petite and skinny, while her brother and sister were not. She had really fine , straight hair, and they both had thicker, wavy hair. She had blue eyes, they had the same. That was the closest she came to looking like them. She didn’t care though, she never really concerned herself with all that. Apparently though her brother and sister did not share her lack of interest. They constantly were reminding her of how she did not look like them, and how she kind of did not fit in. That really never bothered her too much either, she just wanted to be happy.
Blue when she was small, would ride her tricycle around the front yard tree and pretend to be in a race against all things. Even the ants that were underfoot had a stake in that pretend race. The tree would encircle was a large tree with skinny limbs all stemming from a large trunk and the blooms on this tree were her favorite color, pink. She loved when the wind would blow and the blooms would fall all around her. She had pink carpet in her room even, she really loved the color pink. Her tricycle was even pink. It had pink streamers cascading from the handle bars. This tricycle even sported an awesome pink, plastic weaved basket. She was definitely all about pink.
Blue had a swing set, on it was two swing seats, a double seated push swing and a slide, that was metal, and a lift bar swing in the very middle.The slide would be so hot from the sun sometimes that she had to put water on it some to cool it off before sliding on it. This slide was so tall to her though, she often times sat on the top of it imagining that she was looking down at another world. She loved to imagine and pretend. This swing set was blue, and white. She often would grab the lift bar swing and put herself in it and sit and swing , She never really felt any fear when she did those type of things. Fear really never entered her mind back in the early years of her life.
It was not until she reached her teenage years that things changed a whole lot for her. Life was not as carefree anymore, she was in school and never really had much time to come home and play. She saw her swing set sitting there each day she arrived home from school. Sadly, she was not allowed to go outside as much as she did when she was younger. Now she had chores and homework and things to do besides pretend. This is around the time her heart began to change. If she could have stayed little longer she would have because being a teenager proved to be less and less fun.
When most of her friends were going to the skating rink or hanging out at each other’s house she was at her home, doing chores. The first time she was made to vacuum was at the age of 9. now though it seemed her parents wanted her to do more. Sometimes she felt like she was only there for that. She wanted to go outside and ride her red Murray bike but seldom did she ever get to. She had been given that bike on Christmas for a present and still had not mastered fully riding a bike. Yes, she was a teenager that could not ride a bike. That is because no one helped her, no one gave her time to. All her friends was under the impression though, that she could ride a bike, they would have laughed at her if they knew she couldn’t. So she never told them otherwise. She often made out like her life was as normal as theirs and that she had a good home life, like they imagined her to have had. Unfortunately, it really never was.
Still in her teenage years, where the things in her life became more cumbersome rather than fun, she felt so alone. She knew that life for her friends was so much easier and carefree, why couldn’t hers be? Instead she was left alone with her father each Saturday while her mother bought groceries and went shopping. This time alone was never a good time. She frequently hid in her bedroom or snuck out and went to the woods. This was to get away from her father. he was not like her friends fathers. Her father was different. he made her feel uncomfortable and disgusting. He had affection for her that was not normal. He thought of her in a most wrong way. Why could her father not be normal? She often wondered. She also blamed herself a lot for the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel.
This unnatural attraction was most certainly uncomfortable, to say the least. Blue hated it, and despised the fact that while her friends all wore gowns to sleep in at night, she wore jogging pants and tried to hide herself in her clothes as to not draw attention to the woman she was becoming with her body. She found herself staying ore and more in her bedroom and locking her door, just to avoid the man she knew as her father. She wanted to runaway many times, start over somewhere else, but she never did. She was destined to live there and she done that the best way she knew how.
What bothered her was the fact that despite the unnatural way her father treated her, her siblings nor her mother seemed to notice. I guess it was not awkward for a mother to come home and see her teenage daughter sitting on her husbands lap. Maybe the fact that one does not want to admit there is an issue was the reasoning behind all that. Sadly though no one ever noticed or if they did they ignored it. While her friends were wearing bathing suits and enjoying the tans they got , she was hiding out in her room. She had lived with abnormal for so ling that it felt weird to spend the night with her friends and see the interactions between her friends and their families, especially their fathers. She could never had imagined being that “free” just to be in her home. It was such a different world she had. Her friends thought she was just shy and reserved but she was really trying to protect herself from any other man who would see her in a sexual way; yes, even her friends fathers. She didn’t want to risk it. Her friends never knew.
Once she was out sunbathing, this is before the actual understanding of the actual thought process that her father had concerning her. Her father approached her, he got down in a sitting position by her lawn chair and looked at her from head to toe and told her how beautiful she was. He also said that there was no one that beautiful to him. It was at that moment she felt most uncomfortable and left and went inside, never to sunbathe outside at her home, again, After that moment she knew she needed to hide and hide she did.
Faultless she was, but never knowing that, she blamed her growing up , maturing for the way she was looked at. Not that growing up isn’t hard enough for a kid. She blamed that growing up for her deepest pain. Sometimes she almost wanted things to never change, nothing to change, not even into another day of her life. She blamed herself, blamed her father, and wanted it all to end. It should not hurt to be her, but it did. Her heart turned blue in those days, years, she had to live there with him. Somehow her heart still managed to continue beating.
Blue always wanted to be loved the way other girls are by their parents. She wanted to cherish her father not fear him. Although she never did anything to deserve the torment she had received she felt somehow in the wrong. What should have been a wonderful loving childhood turned into one like you can not imagine. She preserved parts of her heart in spite of that so she could give it to those that most deserved it. Blue made many more wonderful stories and lives happily with her own family now. She feels blessed to live and she distanced herself from those that wished her harm. That is how she survived.
If only Blue had a chance to create her real world like she had done for her pretend world, she would have created one filled with genuineness. Her pretend world would have had a girl who lived in a beautiful home, one where she could have her unconditional love and be nurtured. There would have been no fear. Life , however cannot be created that way. Wouldn’t it be great, though?
So many times there are things that go unspoken, So many people in our world are hurting. So much to say and too little help comes their way.
MwsR
Little girl why are you so sad?
What in the world has happened to make you so weary?
I see the tears hidden behind your freckles and bangs
I feel alongside with you
It is horrific what we humans do.
We take the innocent and make them accountable
Not for their sins but our own
We pound them down just to watch them under our very feet.
If one of us can control what isn’t ours to control
Then we become more and more bold.
I see you hide when he comes around
And it isn’t because he is a dressed up clown.
I know you feel so let down
I know no one was ever around to help you
It is not your fault
If being innocent and pretty makes you a target
That is a shame
He was the adult, he should have refrained.
I hear your prayers at night
I know you are searching for that one bright light.
You never get much sleep at night, wondering if he will come.
When daybreak sees you into another morning
I feel your excitement soon turn into mourning.
Mourning because you will have to defend, yet again
Those actions of his are his alone
Not your fault that you have to be home.
You are just a kid
A kid who deserves to be loved
Not ignored until you serve a purpose,
For that one you thought would love.
Your cries out in the woods
I hear them and know inside you, you are good.
Remember this thing won’t last your life long
If you can make it through this season or two
I have something better in place for you.
Don’t even think about ending your life
You have so much purpose, so much to give.
Your ending is still unwritten
You have the ultimate choice
And know my dear, I gave you a voice!
MwsR ❤
If you know someone who is being abused, mentally, physically, or otherwise, please stand up for them. Take it upon yourself to help them. I was a little girl who did not have anyone. I should have had someone but they failed to come to terms with what was happening to me. It is never okay to hurt another person. If you, yourself, have or is being abused, speak to someone , anyone! Don’t let it continue, don’t stay silent.
Mws R Writings 