“Learn to light a candle in the darkest moments of someone’s life. Be the light that helps others see; it is what gives life its deepest significance.” – Roy T. Bennet

What Hurts

IMG_1490Pain was necessary to make me who I am. Even though sometimes the thought of what I’ve gone through is crippling, I know for a fact that it was the turning point for my becoming. Without pain, I would never have held a relationship to the wild step of marriage. Without pain, I would never had given it my all to birth a child. I wouldn’t have the determination that I have now to experience life to its fullest. But, oh, how it hurt at the time.
When a fifteen-year-old finds herself at the mercy of two grown men, so many things can happen. I could have died. I could have been abducted, sold, lost. I was violated but so much worse could have occurred in that moment. I survived to have a family and a life of potential. It killed me then, but it drives me now to love beyond reason the harshest of humans.  Somehow I still see the light in this world.
In the year following that moment, I was dark in my soul. My mind shouted and my nails were used to scratch red, bloody words onto my skin. I wrote horrible notes to myself where no one would see them. To me, I was nothing. Ruined. A whore. I kept my dark secrets buried and let them simmer and shape me into a bitter cynic. I felt ugly, inside and out. And to me, every man, both young and old, wanted me as a toy to play with and then leave in the dirt.
What changed this horrible mindset? I had a mental disease that was eating away at my core. Whatever could possibly heal me of it?
There is a love that reaches deep into your heart and strengthens it and fills it where it once was empty. I may yet be cynical but I believe wholeheartedly that there is a God that mends the broken mind and drives us to live again. He let me realize that the darkness in me was my soul crying to be whole. I was not abandoned or ruined or the putrid heap I thought I was. I was loved. I was beautiful.
I hope that in my sharing of this there will be someone that will understand. Do not allow those that hurt you to win. You can still stand strong and tall and live life wonderfully. I hope you find the healing that I did. I hope you have better days. I hope you grow old with your family and can look back to see that pain only made you tougher and didn’t cripple you. You may still cry or flinch at little things but it will get better over time. Survive. Do not dwell on the past, as it cannot change, but it can change you for the better if you’ll allow it.

lighten up, loosen up
says somebody hammered in every way possible
get a grip, have a drink
who knew good cheer could be so forcible?

if i were to smile while walking around
someone would wonder what drug would be found
inside my system, running around

so let me scowl and snarl
as i walk along the streets of downtown
it holds the whistles at bay
when their flirtatious faces are met with a frown

To Think

Being young and having a baby puts me in an awkward place with my peers. Most women my age are only just getting engaged, or otherwise they are in school and working five days a week. This places me at the edge of circles, not yet old enough to be considered in the mom groups and in such a different place in life that I feel strangely mature in my usual group of friends.
I know I’m not the only mom to feel this way. My life doesn’t revolve fully around my child and husband. I don’t have dinner on the table every night. I just want to go on long runs in the forest and come home to a smiling baby, but that’s an impossible daydream.
I do like to work. I enjoy the feeling of earning my money and paying bills. I enjoy helping others.
Maybe what I’m trying to say is that I feel too young, too old, too busy, too lazy, and nowhere near where I wish I were in life.
I’ve always dreamt of traveling the world and learning new languages, of meeting new people and living in both poverty and riches in order to fully understand the world. I wanted to be a police officer, unbiased toward even the most distinctly different person. I wanted to be a writer, able to carry emotions in my words and change people though them. I wanted to be a wanderer, untethered by family or feelings and able to explore the entire expanse of the earth by wit alone.
But I found myself married at twenty years old and it’s possible that none of those dreams will ever come into fruition. And perhaps that is all they ever were: dreams. They were ideas that I latched onto and ruminated over so often that I found no fault in them.
Now I do find fault in them. They are missing my husband and my son and my family and friends and perhaps I feel for them more than I let on. I can be stoic and tired and hard and untouchable but I don’t think I can live without the people that surround me.
I sympathize for moody teenagers because I was one, but I also understand the need for stability and nine to fives and those days that drag on because they mean you love and are loved. I love and am loved, and I could continue to pine away for my unfulfilled dreams but sometimes things come into your life that you never expect and you never knew you needed.
I never meant for this to become what it is, but I guess I needed to write some things out for them to make sense in my head. Thank you for listening.

Medford, Oregon

Right here in Medford
There are two kinds of people
The East and the West

Forget South and North
That is where the middle lies
Rich, desolate mess

We live by homeless
They speak louder in the night
For we silence them

I am sorry the days
When I cannot look, for fear
Takes me by surprise

What is it I think?
That their woes are contagions?
Famine infectious?

I am not alone
Thinking irrationally
Most do avoid them

Insufficiency
Could take us all, and I’d say
Good riddance, blind eyes

To Run

I started running when I was 18, near 19
It felt nice to breathe in the fresh air
I kept running, it became a daily activity
And I know now I will never stop
Unless physically removed from the ground

Black and White

This is the account of an unnamed man
Who lost his way in the ways of the land
Who never once thought to look down at his hands
And wonder where exactly to stand

Yesterday, a child died
A father, a sister, a mother cried
And despite a good name it was black and white
The white holding all of the right

Our unnamed man felt a twinge in his heart
Although he was fully engulfed in his part
A witness to tell the details, to chart
The steps of those only a hue apart

We hope he decides to see past the colours
Because life could be a bit easier for others
If lives were respected as though we were all brothers
And the loaded guns remained holstered

© 2017 singinthebreeze.wordpress.com

You’d Be Surprised…

…at the amount of change that can happen in 5 years. I am married, I have a 6-month-old son, and I got myself into running and painting and somewhere along the line I forgot to write. I’ll give you this, though. I am older and wiser and perhaps a little less reckless than I was. Things that used to be important are not so much. Things that seemed meaningless hold all meaning now. Life feels vibrant and hopeful for me. I hope it does for you also.

 

 

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