Closed for repairs...

This blog - my perspective - my views - my pain - my suffering - my outlet - and STILL, I can't completely be forthcoming and honest with this whole, ugly situation. 

Secrets - It's what got me here. It's what keeps me here. 
Sacrifices - what I feel like I'm doing or maybe what I actually am.

Denial - What some people stay in to cope. Causes pain to others; the untruth that's maybe too ugly to face. 

Silence - protection, fear, keeping some in a fixed position.


When my abuse began when I was very young, I never would have thought that it would affect so much - becoming so intertwined in so many facets of my soul and life. I often wonder how my cognitive thinking would be, my trust levels, my freedom to feel my emotions, and my ability to express myself would be if I wasn't so conflicted in the innermost places of myself. 

I'm sick of the abuse making me feel inadequate as a christian, a wife, a mother, a sister and a friend. Again, my perspective. I've worked hard to find a "happy place" to exist in. I'm doing the therapy, I'm praying for healing, I'm taking the meds, I'm getting up everyday, I'm showing up to work, and I'm investing in my relationships. 

Then a bomb! A reminder of dysfunction. A reminder of secrets and withholding of truth that began so many years ago. Denial. Escalation of sin. So much of it. This bomb causes fibers of past hurt, abuse, and secrets that are intertwined in the deepest places of me to begin to swell up inside of me and knock me off of my axis; to the point of instability. This is where I'm expected to just keep going and not feel any guilt. "She's strong, she's faithful, she's gonna be fine. She'll get through this. She needs time to process." Nothing changes though. Secrets remain. Denial exists and we dare not talk about it. Its a domino effect that doesn't stop stripping people of their happiness, relationships and frame of mind.

Sexual abuse is the "gift" that keeps on giving. Its EXHAUSTING.

I'm SO angry now. You won't see it because I've mastered the art of pretending, or showing no emotion. I can't feel things normally anyway. My heart and my brain are not connected properly. Abuse does that. Keeping secrets does that.  Past the anger, my brain is conflicted to the point of not really giving a damn about certain things. 

A goal of mine is to be authentic. I have succeeded in doing that with only my boys. God has seen to it that I remain open, honest and loving to them. This is my saving grace and they are my heart. The rest of the world sees a partial picture of me. I don't know if it doesn't feel safe for me to show myself or I've conditioned myself, out of obligation, to appear one way and feel another. It's hard right now. It's confusing right now. It's painful right now. 

Again, my perspective.

"I write because it makes me feel like someone's listening - or am I finally listening to myself" - author unknown.