i want to write a love song
or a sonnet
a psalm
a story
and paint a picture of love
i want to create a recipe
a symphony
a melody
a lullaby
write a book about love
i want to fill a room
a home
the world
the universe
the galaxy with love
i want to tell you and everyone
i love
love dwells in the secret place
resting my tired soul
yielding my mind
to your control
unspeakable joy is complete
I’m made whole
safety is the fortress
that lets me shed my tears
peace is the refuge
to help me face my fears
comfort dwells
in the secret place
while the world swells
with darkness
It is here I find light
strength dwells
in the secret place
all wounds are mended
with the power to endure
as I bear my soul
no thing can touch me
I dwell in the secret place
with you
The guilty seek punishment. I have chosen to stop beating up on myself and declare myself not guilty. Being guilty suggests that I have done something wrong. I realize that I have done nothing wrong. My intentions when making the decisions that haunt me were pure.
I would be guilty if I’d made deliberate decisions with malice or ill will. Guilt says that I intentionally did harm and expected a bad result. Innocence suggests that the decision was made expecting a good outcome.
At the time that is what was best. Of course after years of experience I now have a 20/20 hindsight view. I dealt with life based on the knowledge and experience I had up till that moment.
So it is okay to let myself off the hook. I can forgive myself.
I can accept that I deserve love.
I am worthy of all things good.
I am much more than the sum of my choices.
When we know better we do better.
Forgiving myself opens the door to my ability to forgive others. It has been said
“In all your getting, get understanding”. Even when I don’t understand I trust the process. Love covers a multitude of sins.
Love is an inexhaustible stream
given at birth for me to give away
the only power I have
the only thing I could ever control
is my choice to love
I don’t have to chase it
or look for it I am it
so I decide to love
right now this second
giving you my love
makes my love overflow
the only reason to be alive is to love
any other reason and you are just biding time
I was thinking about what motivated me to quit smoking. I was not walking my talk. Now that I know what self-love really looks like I am finding it easy to make changes in my life that prove how much i love myself.
Since my earlier post where I talked about not yet having forgiven the man who raped me at five, I have done a lot of thinking about forgiveness.
I forgave the little girl in me for being vulnerable. I forgave her all the things she thought she had done wrong because she really had done nothing wrong. It was not her fault and it had nothing to do with her personally. I forgave her for crying and for loving the wrong people because she did not know how to protect herself. I told her how strong she is and how brave she has been. I told her how proud i am of her for all of her accomplishments because she had a lot to overcome.
I forgave her and told her that I loved her and would always be here to protect her.
After that forgiving my perpetrator was easy. That is the gift of self-love I give to myself.
Below is a journal entry of mine from August 2010. I thought my life was over and I felt good for nothing. I have Fibromyalgia and Rheumatoid Arthritis. I was grieving the loss of my former active self.
In March of this year I purchased a book titled “Go to Hell“ by Alfreda Lanoix. This book changed my life. I know people throw those words around a lot but this is my truth. Reading her book gave me courage to stand up and try again. I can not really explain it except to say I was a ready student and the teacher showed up.
I found beauty in me. I saw God in me. I knew love in me.
I felt if she could start over so could I.
I said to myself “if her story can help me, then my story can help some body” The rest is mystory. I found my voice and have not shut up since. I love you Alfreda.
I dedicate the rest of my life to telling my stories in hope that a life will be transformed.
written in August 2010
Suffering in silence. not seen nor heard
I’ve become cynical and jaded about the medical community. I am tired of being treated like I am crazy or a drug addict seeking drugs. My pain is real, damn it. If I am depressed it is because I am tired of hoping every day that this day will be better than yesterday, it is getting hard to hold on to hope.
Some might say it could be worse. Well my answer to that is the only thing worse would be death. I am tired of hurting but more than that I am tired of not being heard. I am Tired of not being seen. I really do not know how much more of this I can take. I am not lazy. I am not faking. Who would choose this?
I am a mother of twins and triplets. I’ve worked two jobs many times in my life. I was always on the go. While my children were little I went to college full-time and maintained a 3.5 GPA. All while teaching Sunday school, singing in the Choir, serving on the Usher board and the Nurse’s board at church. I was also taking care of my ailing grandmother. I was a wife, mother, student and servant in my community as well as at church. I went out of my way to help those more disadvantaged than myself.
I was active at my children’s school serving as P.T.A. President and was Coordinator and Liaison for Practical Parenting Partnership. I was responsible for establishing the Free Breakfast program in our school district and getting Drug Free School Zone signs installed in our neighborhoods.
Now I feel like a lazy bum although, that is not true of me. That is how I feel when I spend my days in bed crying in pain.
I am able to do less and less. I spend more time in bed than I do out and it is starting to drive me crazy. If I try to push myself to do more it only causes more pain. I live in fear of pain. I am always anxious about what I have done or might do to cause more pain.
It is so bad that I do not take my pain seriously. If I am hurting anywhere on my body, I just chalk it up to that is just the way it is. That has cost me dearly. I almost died because I did not listen to the pain. And the medical community is horrible. I have to change my doctor of twelve years because I to wait up to three months to see her or see the nurse practitioner. I don’t want to see the nurse practitioner. She is not a doctor nor is she my doctor.
While waiting to see my doctor about the pain in my side my appendix almost burst. At the hospital they treated me like a crazy, drug seeking addict and sent me home without relieving my pain saying I was constipated although I was vomiting violently, so much that bile was coming up from my liver. They made me feel like being constipated was my fault when (that is a symptom of appendicitis).
I have so many medical conditions to manage that I have become overwhelmed. I am really at the point of giving up. With no one to talk to about this, because everyone is tired of hearing it, I have no outlet. Truth be told, I am tired of hearing it too.
I feel old, boring and a bother. Maybe it is my fault. I try not to whine. I try to act like everything is okay but I am not okay. I am suffering, alone in silence.
WHAT A DIFFERENCE A YEAR MAKES
I feel younger, more interesting and well worth your time.
Reality is kicking my a**. I just realized there are a few people I have not consciously forgiven. This journey to self-love has proven much more laborious than I thought. I was watching “Behind the Music” – Mary J Blige, and she said something so profound.
I LOVE Mary, watching her growth has been inspirational. I have always felt a deep connection to her as a person and her music has been balm for my healing. Until this week I was not aware of her abuse at five, but now I understand my ability to relate to whatever she expressed.
She said “I am living proof that you can come from anywhere and have gone through anything and still make it.” She talked about the man who raped her when she was five years old and how she had forgiven him.
All of a sudden a light bulb came on in my mind. I have not consciously forgiven the man who raped me when I was five years old.
In my heart and mind I tried but I could not do it. I want to so badly, but I am stuck. So, I sit here asking myself, “Is my ability to forgive in direct proportion to my self worth?” Dam this sh** is getting hard.
I find it impossible to speak the words and thinking them is just not going to happen now. I have spent a lot of time in and out of therapy thinking and talking about the effects of my abuse. Looking at how that crap manifested in my behavior and thinking has been challenging. Changing my thoughts and behavior has been grueling and I still have a long way to go.
Once I got past all the anger I could forgive my mother and grandmother and anyone else I felt had victimized me because what happened made sense. I could relate to their behaviors and I understood therefore, it was easy to have compassion.
I have been trying so hard to finish my book. It seems the more I want it completed the more resistance I get from the universe. I am working to be in a space of non-resistance. The reality is I will not get there without this most important piece of the puzzle. Forgiveness, I am working on it y’all and I will keep you posted.
Again Mary J. Blige is my inspiration. I love you Mary.
“Bring me to my knees” was written because my mother did not call me on my birthday. I will not try nor do I feel the need to justify my feelings about this but I have gained a lot of insight and I want to share. If you have followed the blog you already know my history of neglect and childhood sexual trauma.
As a child living with my grand mother every birthday the only thing I really wanted was acknowledgement by my mother. A phone call would have sufficed or a card would have been even better, but no calls or cards ever came.
I don’t have the words to explain how unimportant I felt. It did not matter what party I had or gifts I had received, no call from her said I did not matter to any body especially my mother. In therapy I learned to ask for what I wanted so I explained to my mother in my mid thirties how her behavior made me feel. She started from then on at least calling me on my birthday.
This year that I turned Fifty was a big deal for me because I have survived and thrived. There was a lot of discussion about what I was going to do for the big 50 born day and for many reasons I just wanted to be away from home. The main reason being I did not want to spend any energy pretending every thing is okay with our family.
I was concerned that maybe something was seriously wrong with her because I had come to expect the call. When I called to ask about her well-being she told me she did not forget. She just did not call.
I hung up the phone and started to cry. I was the little bare footed five-year old all alone in a dark roach infested apartment by herself with no food crying for her mother. PTSD is horrific.
This time though I was different. I loved my self enough to validate my own feelings. It is okay to cry. It is okay to feel bad about this I told myself, but it is not okay to wallow in it. So I decided to talk about how I felt honestly with a couple of friends that I knew would just listen so I could process the feelings.
In the past I would have went straight into a deep depression feeling sorry for myself. I used to be the queen of pity parties but I have grown. I know not to take her behavior personally it is not now, nor has it ever been about me. But that does not change the fact that it hurts.
I love my mother. I want to facilitate her healing but she lacks the courage to face her demons. So, now I find myself on my knees praying for my mother instead of praying for my self. I pray for our healing.
I am continually striving to learn how to give more love.
it seems you will always be
the thorn in my flesh
i’m humbled
by my human frailty
i rely on god’s grace
when your actions get the best of me
you can find me on my knees
praying
for you to see
you could have already been free
if it were not for poetry
I would have given up long ago
poetry is the window to my soul
the light in darkness
sanity instead of delusion
poetry allows me to look at self
take my eyes off you
Poetry inspires me
sets my soul free
when confused
and I cant stand
to look at your face
and fear keeps me from speaking
and shame and disgrace
cloud my world
poetry inspires me
to set on paper all things ugly
all things deep
so deep if spoken
it would cut
like a sword into your gray matter
and pierce your heart
causing you to want my blood
poetry inspires me
it lets me gather my thoughts
so you and I can remain free
to coexist without war
poetry has taken me far
been my release
if it were not for poetry
I would have thrown myself
on the floor
pulled out my hair
ran naked out my door
screaming
I cant take it no more
poetry inspires me
to drop to my knees
ask God
for more strength to go on
with my prayer answered
I can go walking
out the door fully clothed
thanking god for strength
mercy and grace once more
all I need is poetry
Hopes and dreams,
and scattered things
and I can’t find myself
a part of me is missing
lost in the cares of life
that kept my dreams at bay
a part of me is missing
don’t you hear what I say
a part of me is missing
and I want it back today
woke up today
did not know where I was
why was I living
someone else’ dream
here I go again giving away self
just to get some loving
I’m asking me
where I be
and who is this we are
what happened to my dream
is it on a shelf, in a jar
waiting
while I follow some one else’ star
has it died
or just been deferred
will I go back to sleep
or finally wake up
knowing
everything has a price
love is never enough
if the price is myself
hopes and dreams
and scattered things
and I can’t find myself
What I know about love has been hard-earned. I once thought sex was love. I believed if I gave my partner enough mind-blowing sex they would love me like I craved to be loved. I had no concept of self-love. When someone usually a therapist or a well-meaning friend would say you have to love yourself first. I always thought to myself that it was easier said than done. They would make the statement as if it were so easy. Something that comes naturally to all of us.
What the hell did loving self-love look like? I tried all the things I thought self-love was. I faithfully went to the hair stylist and nail technician. I made sure I had my pedicures and nice clothes. I would even take myself out to dinner or cook a candle light dinner at home with a bubble bath and sexy lingerie. None of these activities filled the gaping hole in my heart.
I have had lovers that made my every wish their command and still I did not know love. I have done things trying to acquire love that put my life at risk just to be loved unconditionally by somebody, anybody. That feeling of safety is what you get in the first years of life from your parents. A normal childhood does not come with worries about closing your eyes at night.
I misplaced my trust and allowed people into my life that did not deserve to be there and meant me no good.
My journey to love started when I got real with myself. When I forgave myself for believing that it was my fault that bad things happened to me as a child. When I was able to tell the little girl inside me that she did nothing wrong. I told her it was okay to be afraid and vulnerable. I told her I would protect her from harm to the best of my abilities. I promised her that when I knew better I would do better. I had to rely on my instinct to always do what was in my own best interest.
I had to mother myself. Even after having six children of my own I could not tell you what mother love embodied. I could not relate to a close mother child relationship where your mother would give her life to protect you. That was a foreign concept to me. I sometimes weep knowing what my children and I missed out on.
That explains why it was so easy for me to detach from people. Because of the neglect I endured as a child my ability to bond was disabled. People became disposable. But as the years went on I started to notice the pattern and through therapy and self-help books I discovered the pathology of my family of origin.
As I gained an understanding of myself I was able to forgive. Forgiving myself was an act of self-love. Now because I recognize love when I see it, I have boundaries and I don’t allow anyone to disrespect me nor do I disrespect others. I understand that how I treat others is a direct reflection of how I feel about myself. Hence the golden rule “do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
I love me enough to teach you how to treat me by the way I treat you.
The Souls' Poet 