Scientific Reclassification

Feelings are an assignment of blame or honor to chemicals.
Emotion is a name given to electrical pulses of energy marking time or torment.
Deconstruction of trauma is a math function. Word problem. Brain exercise.
Subtraction of pain.
Addition of love.
Multiply goodness.
Equals a whole person.
Powers to an astronomical degree.
Science is beautiful. Humans are sums.
Peace is knowable. Pain is a number. God is infinite.

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Suicide

Kill yourself.
My voice calls out.
My mind is fatal.
Lies of doubt.

Should I?
End it all.
Would the world bother
To clean this wall?

Blood is forever.
Every drop leaves a mark.
It still stains
Even in the dark.

Every choice is hard.
Every life has healing.
Every morning has sun.
Every voice has meaning.

I could stop.
I could fall asleep.
Let darkness creep.
Fall in final leap.

Don’t waste it
Or let the ground taste it
After I faced it
I won’t erase it.


Suicide is a lie. A distraction. An obstacle to reaching the full potential of your human life, just before you achieve enlighment. It is a temptation to abandon all hope. It is an attempt to keep you trapped. But the test is enduring whatever comes next and learning from it. That’s the point from which to return. The very next step is the brilliant embrace of life itself and only good can come from that choice. Love doesn’t come from anyone. You’ll never be good enough. You will never have enough money. You have to love yourself anyway. Even though you don’t deserve it. Because no one does. Don’t you want to know what comes next? There are always options.

1-800-273-8255

black heart

Smile and Burn

Money does not buy happiness.
A smile can’t stop the rain.
But when you’ve confronted the past,
You can smile through the pain.

A smile isn’t an umbrella.
Peace isn’t purchased with cash.
Happiness is burning down hate
And rising from the ash.

So take this fire,
And beat those wings.
Fan these flames.
Embrace the change it brings.

candles

it only takes a second

from all the way back in 2013. a great reminder:

i just realized that all the pain and hurt that i have felt over the years is not in charge of who i am or what i will be. God is in charge and i will choose to live by his command of forgiveness and peace and live without fear, revenge or regret. to give my abuse a second life by holding on to the past is robbing me of my present and future. that abuse can no longer have any more of my life or health! to live in anger only causes personal suffering. i was driving down the road the other day and i crested the hill. there was a child in the street and my first reaction was to be angry. judge him for his actions, his parents lack of supervision or any reason to be upset with him. a child. and then, within seconds, i chose to put that down and wave and smile and be friendly to the kid. i shocked my husband and even myself. it only takes a second to choose kindness. it only takes a second to choose a better path.


Choosing a good path today! Good luck to you, too!

UR in Ruin

You’re in ruin.
Not from your doing.
Rejected, brokenhearted, beaten, betrayed
By brutal behavior–reckless and unstaid.

You don’t deserve that.

Rise from your ash.
Emerge from the crash.
Carefully remove the plunged-in knife.
Take control of your internal life.

No one else can.

Dig out the buried artifact
What was your heart, not just an act.
Discover the soul of who you are.
Soon you’ll erase that fading scar.

I believe in you.

Therapy

Toes on the beach
Leaves me speechless
Lost in time
Clouds on the climb
Sky is reachless

Mind in the sand
Gives me bedrock
Found on the wave
Pain in the grave
Peace and joy in wedlock

Heart on the ocean
Takes my sorrow
Seeks a new story
Bottomless quarry
Mining the treasure of tomorrow

Tough as Nails

Here’s an old inking of nails that I did in drawing class at college. They were galvanized nails on a strip. I hate drawing, but I love to ink.


Drag those nails
Across my back.
Pound them in.
I can take your attack.

When you are done,
I’ll treat the pain.
I’ll save the nails
For a day with rain.

Later on, you’ll see.
Those nails? I use.
To build my empire.
Your abuse–my muse.

knee-deep

This is not the surface of Mars. But I wish it was. A sci-fi Bradbury story and not my life.


Scared and Scarred
I am 6. Tender. Overly sensitive. Idealistic. In the living room watching TV (listening to my parents scream).
My father is chasing my mother from the bedroom to the living room. She sits on the sofa by the window. He grabs her leg and drags her from the cushion. Her pants rip and she awkwardly falls to the floor, pinned between the sofa and coffee table.
My brother jumps up and tangles himself with my father. My brother is 17 and a full-grown male. He might be one inch taller than my father. He weighs less, but not by much and has anger and youth on his side. They wrestle and fall into a window. The glass breaks and the fighting continues. They push each other away and stand panting and snarling, waiting for each other to make a move.
My brother walks out of the house into the yard and my father follows. They exchange violent words and my father threatens to stab my brother. He holds his hand in his pocket, standing at a distance from my brother, claiming to have a knife.
I will cut your gizzards out.
One of the many delusional things my father utters. It makes little sense. He is embarrassingly profane and foaming at the mouth. He taunts my brother to attack again. I can’t remember how it’s resolved.
Sometime later, I crawl up on the sofa to look at the broken window and wonder why our afternoon was disturbed. I cut my knee with a shard of broken glass hidden in the cushion. I still have the scar today. It looks like a soggy piece of puffed rice
cereal landed on my knee and stuck.

The cut was deep. Huge beads of blood. The emotional hurt was even deeper.


Complex PTSD is real. This memory was written in present tense to show how real memories can seem. You can relive some trauma at the slightest trigger: smell (cigarette smoke), action (washing hands), word (gizzards), threat (humiliation), similar circumstance (injustice). Reliving some nightmare from the past isn’t easy. In fact, it’s soul crushing. Mind melting. Scariest thing a person ever has to do–walk into the past like a darkened, grimy hallway of a forgotten house of pain. With no skills, lights or way to defend yourself. Anyone with C-PTSD does not want to be permanently haunted with ghosts. But the mind can’t erase severe hurt. It tries, but those imprints have power. Evict those ghosts with the Holy Spirit and this link: Self-Help Strategies for PTSD Visit this site as well: AnxietyBC

And get help. Talk to someone. Anyone.
This weekend I realized–I am serving my past, not my professed master Jesus. I am serving horrible memories and failing as a wife. I don’t want this. My past is not something to cling to in the storm. Jesus is.

Country Roads, Don’t Take Me Home

I spent my youth
Away from Home.
Wishing my friends
Were sisters of my own.

I didn’t like family.
Dangerous love.
Beat up and tortured,
Push comes to shove.

We lived in the country,
Away from town.
If there are no neighbors,
Does abuse make a sound?

My heart goes back
To that scary place.
And my throat gets tight
At memories I chase.

It wasn’t all bad.
I remember some good.
Days spent hiding,
Deep in the woods.

Green creek banks
And rich, black dirt.
Flowers and water
To wash away the hurt.

But no amount
Of River or Plain
Can wash away
That mountain of Pain.

So many nights
Unable to dream.
Flashbacks fire
And tears begin to stream.

Scars that shine
In the cracked moonlight.
Open them again
Without a fight.

In my mind, I walk
With shoe-less feet
To my childhood house,
Down that lonely street.

I reach the drive.
Kick the stones.
Look at the mess.
Hate my bones.

Turn around, get out.
Don’t look back.
This is your chance
To bury the black.

Run! Run down
To the end of the road.
Stop. Take a breath.
There’s time to go slow.

I walk through the night
Away from the past.
I can see the dawn
Coming up at last.

This isn’t a race.
There’s no finish line.
Each step is important.
This path is mine.