Red Lines
Decorative as they may be they danced across my memory like that of destructive terror. Silently I hold my breath as the night concludes and daylight breaks open. A huge sigh echoes inside my mind. A tug of tightness inside my chest. I stand up hoping for strength as I recalled one deadly view.
My slashes against paleness. Oh how the mind shuts down as the soul tries to wash away all the pain. Slowly I opened my eyes once more realizing that I am standing taller. Only because my prayer was answered.
Not quite sure how because I never felt close to God. In fact I felt sure I was so lost that he couldn't find my spirit inside this blackened soul. Do sure there was no way I could be a child of his while holding inside my trials.
The filth I experienced. Constantly begging to be free. Slicing was the best way to feel freedom. Only no one was noticing. As though the cuts of desperation were clearly described as mere attempts to overrule her life.
Indeed had anyone really noticed really understood the depth I was dying in maybe I could have been placed in resting with those who hide in bars and cushioned walls.
That would hide away the monsters for a while. Deadly snipers that were slowly degrading this child. Warped into believing this is "normal".
Still the cuts and scars don't eliminate the memories. Sadly they don't burn into the midnight sky.
Even now as the grown adult I am the memories still stab me. Rekindling the anguish I overcame. Giving somé the glimpse of one new layer of me.
An onion peeled back. Just one new perspective of my well hidden life. The darkened secrets that can kill an image of someone.
Everyday I am reminded of such sweetness and love. Undeserved deaths of siblings and family. Yet what of those dark tunnels creased into those who survive?
Dare I speak aloud of my life? Am I even allowed the grace, the respect of being seen as the survivor? A real person inside of severe dysfunction?
Indeed I can not voice the degrading of a person much less the resurfacing of a painful past but how else can you move forward in a world?
Silently. Quietly. Hush keep your words closed. Shriveled inside as knives repeating the horror stories daily.
Yes many survivors of life's horrific trials, do. I have. One day when all has calmed I think my forgiveness of myself will come. Seeing myself as Jehovah God does. Beautiful. Mysterious and alarming. Not prudish, distant or cold. Never heartless but ever kind and humble.
Sometimes the hardest parts are to see that we are all imperfect and we will stumble and fall. Yet there are those who fall, trip, stumble, dig deep holes and come out with muck and wick in their faith. Their hope and confidence soaring because they understand Jehovah's place for them.
My childhood. Tortured. Cutting. Begging. Silent. Hidden.
My existence afterwards always seeking my place. Never quite fitting in. Never feeling I was ever good enough. Settled. Died.
Where I am now is the wiping of dirt. The cleaning of blood and scabs. The renewal of a person Jehovah saw from before birth.
Alas I realized I am capable of endurance. I am capable of strength BECAUSE my faith is strong.
Even more thankful I am of the hand that was given to me to keep LIVING. Too keep searching. Diving into finding out who my creator is.
Still there are moments when the past strikes me. Telling me that some should never have passed and I should be in ground instead. It hurts but I endure. I wait for the hatred to end and I keep moving.
The things of my childhood I want to scream aloud, yet I don't. No one benefits. No one needs to know why I am quirky. They just need to understand Jehovah chose me.
Yes the damage from the days of preteen was severe but I managed. I survived. I still see shame and dirt on me. Not sure if that ever fades to nothing but I am certain I have grown.
The life I am living now is certainly not what I had expected but I am grateful for the lessons.
So pardon me if I don't ask for empathy, pity or sympathy. I am a survivor never a victim.
So yes there will be times when I don't trust you much less the stranger across the way but it's not intentional. It is me being defensive so you never have to open my layers to levels you can't handle.
Those levels to where you begin to say I am heartless, cold and crazy. Yes I realize the words were forgotten by you but hearing them spits my dirt back at me.
I survived the slaying. The digging of my grave. My death sentence. I did not reach here just to be slapped again.
So pardon me for not letting you dig deeper. You had opportunity but let your mind see only one part. My heartless, coldness towards someone who can't get passed the past and be a survivor and not the pitiful victim.
I may act as though I am better. No I am worse but I know the difference. I can survive without you. I can live and love you at a distance. I have found a way.
And watching you see as I get distant clueless to the reason I am sorry but I am a survivor. You either love me now, here just as I am wanting to give you all parts of the layers. . Or you walk away.
Free either way.
My life isn't about reliving my childhood. I grew up never knowing my worth until Jehovah gave me you. And I can see my worth extending. So either embrace me or back away. You can't have both.
Tragedy struck my soul. Raped me of a person I should have been. Taught me of apprehension. Trust no one. Weakness is blackmail material. Love is only given a few times in life and mine didn't include those opportunities. Family is evil.
Still the child inside soared with a dream. That is how I kept going. Strength. Surprisingly I didn't know it was Jehovah encouraging my spirit to thrive. I persevered.
Now I understand I need few things to maintain a life. Yet Jehovah keeps telling me I need you. So I cling so hard and obviously have made known I am crazy. Well it's genuine when you say it because I don't understand "normal" nor that of "calm". Only in conversations and hugs. Even those took years to be okay with.
A small bit of humility extended. My door is unlocked and you just have to be willing to explore and understand I SURVIVED.
My slashes against paleness. Oh how the mind shuts down as the soul tries to wash away all the pain. Slowly I opened my eyes once more realizing that I am standing taller. Only because my prayer was answered.
Not quite sure how because I never felt close to God. In fact I felt sure I was so lost that he couldn't find my spirit inside this blackened soul. Do sure there was no way I could be a child of his while holding inside my trials.
The filth I experienced. Constantly begging to be free. Slicing was the best way to feel freedom. Only no one was noticing. As though the cuts of desperation were clearly described as mere attempts to overrule her life.
Indeed had anyone really noticed really understood the depth I was dying in maybe I could have been placed in resting with those who hide in bars and cushioned walls.
That would hide away the monsters for a while. Deadly snipers that were slowly degrading this child. Warped into believing this is "normal".
Still the cuts and scars don't eliminate the memories. Sadly they don't burn into the midnight sky.
Even now as the grown adult I am the memories still stab me. Rekindling the anguish I overcame. Giving somé the glimpse of one new layer of me.
An onion peeled back. Just one new perspective of my well hidden life. The darkened secrets that can kill an image of someone.
Everyday I am reminded of such sweetness and love. Undeserved deaths of siblings and family. Yet what of those dark tunnels creased into those who survive?
Dare I speak aloud of my life? Am I even allowed the grace, the respect of being seen as the survivor? A real person inside of severe dysfunction?
Indeed I can not voice the degrading of a person much less the resurfacing of a painful past but how else can you move forward in a world?
Silently. Quietly. Hush keep your words closed. Shriveled inside as knives repeating the horror stories daily.
Yes many survivors of life's horrific trials, do. I have. One day when all has calmed I think my forgiveness of myself will come. Seeing myself as Jehovah God does. Beautiful. Mysterious and alarming. Not prudish, distant or cold. Never heartless but ever kind and humble.
Sometimes the hardest parts are to see that we are all imperfect and we will stumble and fall. Yet there are those who fall, trip, stumble, dig deep holes and come out with muck and wick in their faith. Their hope and confidence soaring because they understand Jehovah's place for them.
My childhood. Tortured. Cutting. Begging. Silent. Hidden.
My existence afterwards always seeking my place. Never quite fitting in. Never feeling I was ever good enough. Settled. Died.
Where I am now is the wiping of dirt. The cleaning of blood and scabs. The renewal of a person Jehovah saw from before birth.
Alas I realized I am capable of endurance. I am capable of strength BECAUSE my faith is strong.
Even more thankful I am of the hand that was given to me to keep LIVING. Too keep searching. Diving into finding out who my creator is.
Still there are moments when the past strikes me. Telling me that some should never have passed and I should be in ground instead. It hurts but I endure. I wait for the hatred to end and I keep moving.
The things of my childhood I want to scream aloud, yet I don't. No one benefits. No one needs to know why I am quirky. They just need to understand Jehovah chose me.
Yes the damage from the days of preteen was severe but I managed. I survived. I still see shame and dirt on me. Not sure if that ever fades to nothing but I am certain I have grown.
The life I am living now is certainly not what I had expected but I am grateful for the lessons.
So pardon me if I don't ask for empathy, pity or sympathy. I am a survivor never a victim.
So yes there will be times when I don't trust you much less the stranger across the way but it's not intentional. It is me being defensive so you never have to open my layers to levels you can't handle.
Those levels to where you begin to say I am heartless, cold and crazy. Yes I realize the words were forgotten by you but hearing them spits my dirt back at me.
I survived the slaying. The digging of my grave. My death sentence. I did not reach here just to be slapped again.
So pardon me for not letting you dig deeper. You had opportunity but let your mind see only one part. My heartless, coldness towards someone who can't get passed the past and be a survivor and not the pitiful victim.
I may act as though I am better. No I am worse but I know the difference. I can survive without you. I can live and love you at a distance. I have found a way.
And watching you see as I get distant clueless to the reason I am sorry but I am a survivor. You either love me now, here just as I am wanting to give you all parts of the layers. . Or you walk away.
Free either way.
My life isn't about reliving my childhood. I grew up never knowing my worth until Jehovah gave me you. And I can see my worth extending. So either embrace me or back away. You can't have both.
Tragedy struck my soul. Raped me of a person I should have been. Taught me of apprehension. Trust no one. Weakness is blackmail material. Love is only given a few times in life and mine didn't include those opportunities. Family is evil.
Still the child inside soared with a dream. That is how I kept going. Strength. Surprisingly I didn't know it was Jehovah encouraging my spirit to thrive. I persevered.
Now I understand I need few things to maintain a life. Yet Jehovah keeps telling me I need you. So I cling so hard and obviously have made known I am crazy. Well it's genuine when you say it because I don't understand "normal" nor that of "calm". Only in conversations and hugs. Even those took years to be okay with.
A small bit of humility extended. My door is unlocked and you just have to be willing to explore and understand I SURVIVED.
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