Compass Rose

It’s still the same I suppose. Every spring as Easter approaches. I drive past the various Churches, with their steeples acting like beacons, sending their Celestial signal up towards the heavens. I pass there aching to go inside.

The ache rises in my chest as I pass, and then my heart sinks as I sit glued in my seat. My blood runs cold as I nervously think that ‘maybe I am unforgivable’.  How dirty I feel. Less than. Not quite good enough to stand next to any of the people donning their Sunday best.

I ache for closeness with Him like I once had. The only One who ever deserved my whole heart, who ever deserved my obedience and love.   He was the only One who would never betray me.

I can’t remember when I had stopped talking to Him.   Some call it praying.  But it was more than that to me.  It wasn’t rattling off a bunch of rote prayers, though that was how I had begun.  We were close back then.  It was like a friend that was sitting at the foot of my bed, just as real as you are reading this now.  I’d talk about everything.  Then listen.   Oh yes, He would answer.   He spoke through my intuition, I believe.  Sometimes I would ask for a sign.  Sometimes He would give me one:  a gentle cool breeze on a hot night or a small butterfly dancing at my window just as I would ask.

I had stopped going to church.  No one particular reason really and not in anger either.  Then a few years later I had stopped praying.   Other things had seemed to take precedence.  It was like one day He was just gone.  You see, it wasn’t an event, rather it was more of a process. Like most good things in life that slip away.

When I tried praying again?  it felt empty and perfunctory like I was running through mathematical computations.  Something was severed.   And I knew it hadn’t been severed by Him.   That pain of knowing what I lost has been unbearable.  The emptiness, nothing thus far can fill.

A thousand miles I have strayed off that chosen path on which I should have tread, maybe more.  It is easy to get lost out there in the darkness. Still easier to stay lost.

I don’t know how I will get back to Him.   I’m so far off course and a compass rose made only of hope in my grip.   I hope that He finds it in His heart, to forgive me.   Hope that this prodigal daughter can come home.   Hope that lost Faith will be found.

 

 


The Weeknd… is here

 

You don’t need the lonely nights, so baby I can make it right

You just got to let me try,  to give you what you want.

You’ve been scared of love and what it did to you.

You don’t have to run, I know what you’ve been through.

Just a simple touch and  it could set you free,              we don’t have to rush when you’re alone with me. 

 

 


Attention Whore

 

81B9D6F8-5A4C-4E51-AD79-CE6AE3102EF8When a person comes from a place of emotional neglect in childhood it’s beyond painful.  One’s basic needs for emotional sustenance, a sense of well-being, feeling  loved and safe were not ensured.  So that deep scar, carries over into adulthood if not addressed.

I definitely had a lot of emotional neglect in childhood.  My parents were not mean people by any stretch.  However, I unwittingly became the invisible child because one of my step-siblings was a young sociopath in the making.

As a boy, he was labeled with “conduct disorder.”  There was always some podunk police officer showing up at our house to let my parents know he was in trouble again.

The other two step-siblings of mine were “problem children” as well because of extreme learning disabilities and needed a lot of time and energy.   My mom spent hours doing educational advocacy so they could have any chance at having academic success.

I became the invisible child.    I was the kid who got straight A’s, the one my parents figured didn’t need any help because I was succeeding.  However, I was dying on the inside all the while, wishing they would stop long enough to hug me, tell me how proud they were of me, sit and help me do my homework even if I didn’t need it; hell just have my mom sit down next to me and watch me do my homework, tell me I was a cute girl ….something, anything.

Things went from bad to worse over the years.   More police involvement with my step-brother, more arrests, even prison time for him, my parents divorced, our house was sold.

Time passed.

I found myself involved in relationships throughout my adulthood searching for that attention I never got.   Ironically, from men who weren’t capable of giving it to me.  I just didn’t realize it at the time.

That was perhaps the cruelest twist.   See, I was ignorant before I went into psychotherapy years ago.  I didn’t realize that the  complex trauma I had endured as a child, primed me to seek out and replicate the very same neglect and abuse…. to be re-victimized.

I remember one of my first abusive relationships, the guy saying,”you’re a total attention whore!” At the time he had said it, I had asked for more affection from him.  I wanted to hold hands sometimes, I wanted to hug him and have it just stay being a nice warm hug.  Not have it not lead to him wanting to push my head down to make me give him a blowjob.  I wanted affection, not just a purely sexually based relationship.

His response? I was too intense, too needy, clingy, high-maintenance.   That I was too insecure.  That I wanted too much.  “That” guy? well that guy turned out to be the sexual-sadist-sociopath who has no conscience.

Yeah, okay but I’m too intense and needy….

You know now that I think about it? I think it’s pretty normal to want to feel loved, safe, attractive, validated. Especially after not having had enough as a child and teen.

It is unhealthy to expect one’s partner to the be the primary source of one’s emotional well being, that needs to come from within.

That said, stop going to the hardware store for milk.

 


Broken

2F4E0A02-E6BF-4AA7-BD4A-3171A3D244CC

It’s a difficult decision whether or not  to file for bankruptcy.  Particularly in business.  When you have invested so much sweat equity, borrowed on margin at times, and given your last dime to see the thing through.

There comes a time though, when there simply is no return on your investment and you’re in the red.   It’s time to realize it’s gone belly up.  Time for Chapter 11.

So too, a relationship can go the same way.   You read the self-help books, voiced your concerns, arguments happened, distance occurred .  You moved to going to individual therapy, you voiced your concerns, arguments still happened, more distance occurred.   You did the couples counseling gig, the proverbial shit really hit the fan, distance? no…. now there was  just resentment and lots of it.

No one wants to lose such a long-term investment.  But when it becomes a daily dose of vitriol an untenable battlefield emerges, it becomes a veritable toxic environment.  It has become a relationship on life-support.

I find myself in such a position.  My logical brain tells me it’s way past the time to let go and move on and yet my emotions make me second guess my decision.

It’s tearing me up inside and I’ve become physically ill and worn thin.  I can’t sleep anymore, I’m anxious most of the time, I don’t feel joy.  All of this has been ongoing, while I was trying to my bury my mum, who was my best friend, my touch stone.

I rather feel like a gutted fish about now.  The one person who I could always turn to for direction, is with God.  Wherever that is.   I just wish they had WordPress there, so she could could read this and write me back a reply with what to do with my crazy pain-filled shit-show of a life.   She always seemed to know just what to say, from the sage advise to a self-effacing comment to keep me going.  She was always my North Star, I just never thought she’d be up in the sky.   ⭐️

 

 

 


On forgiveness

CAD38382-90D8-4F43-8485-903FF412F3A6

Something has been bothering me.  I had acquired this follower on Instagram which is linked to my blog.  I only have a handful of followers so when I get a new set of eyes, it’s like Christmas morning.  It’s a gift and I feel pretty excited about it.

I look at each follower’s photographs one by one.  Carefully.  If they have a blog or webpage, I will check that out too.  I believe in making connections with people.  Or at least trying.  I believe that we were put here to love one another.   Hard-wired for connectedness.

This particular follower was a Catholic deacon who was about to be ordained as a priest in a few weeks.   He liked several of my photos.   Then, without warning he unfollowed me.   I had almost forgotten that my Instagram account is linked to this blog.  I wondered why.  My intuition told me it had to do with my blog which link is displayed at the top of the Instagram page.

At any given time I write in my blog about an array of topics that are pertinent to me.    My recovery, something I find funny, poignant, or just something I want to share.  Things can run the gammit and some can be off-color.  Everything from the childhood sexual abuse I endured,  to BDSM which I found myself led into as an adult; groomed for by the complex childhood trauma itself.

At the time the deacon stopped following my Instagram account, my blog post at that time was about a sexual strap-on fantasy.  I realized in that moment, he probably judged me as a sinner and sexually immoral.

So I wrote him this message,

”Good evening Deacon, I see that you have stopped following me on Instagram. I’m assuming it’s because you visited my blog on WordPress, read one post and judged me. You will be entering the priesthood soon. May I suggest, not moving so quick to judgment, that is for God. Last I checked you are but a man. You would do well though to live by compassion, mercy, and kindness. Teach Christ’s love by example, yes? God bless you.” 

I felt really hurt because I felt judged and assumed he sort of shamed me Scarlet letter style.  I expected better from a potential man of the cloth.  Why couldn’t he he see all the suffering I had been through? Where was his compassion? As is sometines the case, I didn’t “sit” with my emotions and fired off the text to him.

A few weeks after I sent my text I feel ashamed.  Why was I so reactive? Why didn’t I just let it go? Why did I have to let him know that he was being judgmental? Will my words even even matter to him? I’ve been holding onto this wound, this resentment towards him.   I should have prayed for him and then let it go, but I didn’t.

Someone once told me that the one thing that separates man from the animals is the ability to pray.  That deeply resonated with me.

“To err is human to forgive, divine.”-Alexander Pope

Perhaps it is “I” who needs to start on working on forgiveness.   Focus less about calling him out on his shit and trying being “right.”

 

 

 

 


Something to rely on

74AEA850-6FC1-4015-9A95-D423F5B43F9B

Photo: (mine) – The Marina –       Brattleboro, VT    2018

 

There are so many factors in life that are out of my control.  I can’t contol people, places, or things.  On good days, I find that sometimes I can’t even control myself.  A negative thought will drift in, my temper will flare, sadness will envelope me. I don’t always know how to sort them out.

Tumultuous emotions swirl within me, morose feelings can stir and despite this blue skies can be be smiling at me.

I believe that is why I find myself more grounded in nature.  Though the winds change direction and the rain may come and go, in a world of loss and constant change, I know the sun will  rise and set everyday.


Brokeback Mountain

71E5B1DA-9376-4BCB-B456-A835824B5E34.jpeg

I created this meme because it’s true.  There’s something about seeing two hot men being intimate that really wets my whistle.  😋

 


1 small positive thought

AC6EA57B-009A-484A-98B4-81453F13B580.jpegphoto: mine

“You are never too old to set another goal or to dream another dream.” -C.S. Lewis

#onesmallpositivethought #sisters #mymaria #loveyouforevermom

 


Start each day with one small positive thought

15D7DE03-0A80-40D2-9C74-6F1E203E40F1.jpeg

photo:  mine

After our mom died this past January my sister and I haven’t been the same.   Our mom was such a thoughtful and creative, and artistic, woman.  The ALS may have robbed her of the ability to walk, speak, swallow, move, and eventually breathe but it never robbed her of her beautiful soul nor her giving nature.  She never gave that thoughtfulness up til the day she died.  Be it a smile or mouthing an “I love you” or “Good morning my beautiful.”

For my birthday in May my sister sent me this tiny box with little folded notes.  Inside the box she wrote a note of her own.  It read,” I know Mom sent us both positive text messages or calls nearly every day sometimes.   I’m sure you miss it, I do.  So here are some positive thoughts for you- pick one from the box when you need one.  One is extra special! Love, me”

Today I opened the first, it was a quote from Eleanor Roosevelt:

“ You must do the things you think you cannot do.”

❤️

 


Awesome reblog!

Have you ever bought a movie ticket, hated the film, but kept watching to get your money’s worth? You end up losing the ticket cost and two hours of your life that would have been better spent not watching Nicholas Cage impersonating a crack addict for the seventy twelfth time in his career. That thought-error is called false economy, […]

via How to Get Trapped in an Abusive Relationship in One Easy Step — The Ochre Muse


Oh sh!t

0C1ACD2A-2005-463E-AFC5-287CBADAF50D

I went into Target to buy sunscreen and flip flops, I came out almost 2 hours later with $183.18 of shit I’m not sure I really need.

#lostintarget

#WTF

#savemywallet

 


%d bloggers like this: