#useyourvoice
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My mother is the kind of woman hell fears. She does not walk through life unnoticed—she is a force, a fire, a relentless fighter for what is right. She stands for the vulnerable, speaks for the silenced, and loves without limits. Darkness does not touch her without consequence. She carries wounds this world cannot see,…
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Prejudice exists. I’m often judged and categorized for discussing my upbringing. It gets old. I’d be much more acceptable to them if I didn’t stand by my right to speak. Uncomfortable and unending, the opinions around me fly. Why don’t they be quiet? I didn’t ask them, did I? Unfortunately, this judgment and my shame…
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I published this over three years ago. It’s worth another share . . . Abuse never stands alone. There are so many complicated areas that abusers weave into the fabric of the perfectly crafted prison cells they make for us. Many of us barely escape, and when we do, we usually never talk about it.…
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Once, my voice was a thief’s prize. Silenced, stifled, taken in the dead of night—an offering to someone else’s story, not mine. I became a hollow woman, a puppet on their stage, lips moving but soundless, thoughts shriveled into whispers I dared not hear. I was nothing but a shadow stretched long over years, my…
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I sat against the wall perched on my bed now in darkness. Mangled shadows danced all around me, mocking any peace I could try to find. I could not close my eyes to the monstrous darkness. I just could not. I simply stared at the door. Possibly in anticipation of someone coming to find me,…
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We truly are as sick as our secrets. All I learned through my childhood abuse was, don’t tell, don’t talk — try not to remember. You think that works? Nope! “We played as children do. My brother and I were close – albeit with sexual overtones. We pretended and explored a lot together. This was…
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Prejudice exists. I’m often judged and categorized for discussing my upbringing. It gets old. I’d be much more acceptable to them if I didn’t stand by my right to speak. Uncomfortable and unending, the opinions around me fly. Why don’t they be quiet? I didn’t ask them, did I? Unfortunately, this judgment and my shame…
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As a child, the first thing we learn when coming through childhood tragedies is to remain quiet. Don’t tell is the very first rule we are given. The problem is we did see, we did hear and we still didn’t tell. If we are ever going to change our pasts, we have to break the…
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There is a saying that “Jesus was born to die.” If Jesus was born to die, I was birthed to suffer. I don’t recall a day in my childhood that didn’t have suffering in it. Maybe I had moments where I enjoyed something – an ice cream, a bike ride, but there was always embedded…
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When we learn to articiulate what our abuse took from us, we can grieve appropriately and begin to heal. If we sit in a muck of undiscovery, never articulating what we feel, we stay stuck, unhealed and a stranger to ourselves. Why discuss it? If you were a child when these sexual crimes happened to…