pain
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I used to pray at night. Whispered prayers, quiet enough that no one would hear, careful enough that no one would know I still believed. Because belief was dangerous. Hope was dangerous. Hope could get you hurt. I asked God to stop the bad things from happening. I asked Him to change the world, or…
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There was no gavel, no crowd to witness the transaction— just a little girl, broken and hollowed, learning too soon that love had sharp edges. He was my father, the one meant to shield, but his hands were storms, and his words, knives. In the aftermath, I found myself at the altar of self-destruction, offering…
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Incest left a scorched path of intolerable pain that I needed healing for. No amount of reparenting my soul was going to touch that pain. A yoga session was not going to be able to quench the sting of this long-laid plan to destroy parts of me and still the lost integrity to my soul.…
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I was born into a house where the walls knew my name before I did, and the ghosts hung heavy. Childhood was no tender womb; it was a gauntlet of fists, of silence so thick you could choke on it. I learned early how to disappear, how to make myself small enough to fit into…
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The world is not kind to the small ones, the ones who sleep with their hands curled like fists, dreaming of fireflies and cotton candy skies. But here, in the shadows where monsters wear human faces, innocence is plucked like an overripe peach—its skin bruised, its sweetness devoured. They come for the children in the…
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Happiness. What a strange, fleeting bird. You chase it with hands still dirty from the past, grasping, wanting, and yet it slips through, laughing in a language you’ve long forgotten. But I tell you, there’s a way to catch it, even when your pockets are filled with stones from your childhood, even when the ghosts…
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“. . . I have looked upon my people because their cry has reached me.” I Samual 9:16 What if God chooses people to help the hurting. Do you believe in God’s annointing? I do! God heals through people. Every word we speak in silence to God, he remembers. He makes a record of our…
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Reflection — what better way to start a week. Join the conversation about not finding the hope and strength you need at your local church. If your church does not support your healing, FIND A NEW CHURCH.
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I was miserably assaulted in my childhood by many members of my family – my parents included. I left that home and went right into the home of another abuser. Me and my children were assaulted by him for almost 18 years. My heart sobs over the loss and victimization that plauged me and my…
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Reflection — what better way to start a week. Food, booze, pills, gambling, shopping — you name it. It’s how we get through. If there were someone that said they have no coping mechanisms, would you believe them? I wish I had none. I wish my past was easy. I wish my children hadn’t endured…