The Unrelenting Memory....

This particular post is yet another one that is very personal.  The poem within was excruciating to write and I've struggled with posting it here, publicly, ever since I finished writing it.  And, after a lot of inner debating, I've decided to share it with you all. 

I know there are millions of women who've dealt with this very thing and I know how hard it is to shed light on it, but I know that as I've talked about it more and more, I've learned how to handle the pain differently.  I've realized that it's nothing to be ashamed of and, thank God, I've found a man who loves me despite what's happened.  He sees me no differently than if it hadn't happened at all and that is something I'll always hold onto when I'm fighting back the thoughts that "I'm not worth it," and "it was my fault," etc.

(Wow, I did NOT take into account how difficult writing the rest of this post would be....my hands are so shaky right now....lol.)

Ladies, let me tell you something:  There is NO MAN on EARTH who can make you feel worthless, inferior, ugly, 'not the right size or body shape,' or anything else - they can try all they like, but the real reason they succeed is because WE LET THEM.  I am not the best example of following this, but it's something I work very hard to do everyday, but (in reference to my very first post on this blog) if we take the time, daily, to look in the mirror and tell ourselves that we're beautiful, loved, and worth every second we have life.
I struggle with this as well, but God didn't and DOESN'T make mistakes.

So....I'll let y'all get on with the rest of the post now.  I'm sure more on this topic will come in the future, but for now; enjoy.  

And, without further ado....

What Should Have Happened That Night....

'His eyes...I fear they're speaking me into silence,' she thought.

The white-washed walls dripping with paint impersonating fresh blood,

the eerie bay window breathing loudly into the large dining hall,

and the waxed tears falling from a thousand touchable stars.

"Silence cannot be spoken, yet with the eyes it can be known," he mused aloud.

At once, her mouth shut.

A baby fly buzzed away, having narrowly escaped being trapped behind the woman’s lips.

Like a frozen body of water cracking under the pressure of below zero temperatures, his heart was nothing more than a chunk of splintered ice.

His eyes spit silence while his hands ran down her body.

"You want to protest, yes?" he said.

She nodded.

Her screams of silent objection reached no one, but she flailed and kicked.

He collapsed and, helpless to grab her again, writhed upon the cold black marble floor as she turned and ran away.

The topic should be rather clear to my readers, however, if you'd like clarification, you need only to ask and I will reply as best as I can.  Anyone may post a comment directly on the post itself or, for more personal questions or whatnot, please feel free to email me at: lk4music@gmail.com.

Vulnerability

It's not something I've shared with many people, but I've been seeing a counselor and she gave me homework after our second session together.  She asked me to write about vulnerability and how it made me feel, what I thought about it, and everything in-between.
At first, I thought she was nuts and so I skipped it.  (It helped that I legitimately forgot about it, though.)  However, after the third session she assigned me the same homework assignment from the week before as well as another one.

Today I met with her again and this time, I had both of the assignments finished and ready for her.  I wasn't happy about doing the first one, but I did.  It took me about eight minutes to write about vulnerability and the inspiration, believe it or not, hatched from my hate of it.  Ironically...

As much as I hate the way it makes me feel, I have to admit that it wasn't all that bad to write about it.  Maybe it will help someone else have the courage to open up and write about it themselves or, at least, maybe some who will read this will be able to relate to what I've written.  Anywho, it's worth a shot, right?  Here goes.... 

Vulnerability

It is everything I hate,
but all that I long for.

It is the feeling I despise,
but the one that I desire.

It is everything worth loathing,
but everything worth owning.

It is the part of my soul
I wish to be free
yet my fear of the destruction it can bring
binds my heart from setting it free.

The walls built up against it
are unimaginable
and
impenetrable.

It is hate,
It is love,
It is unworthy,
It is worthy,
It is longed for and desired,
It is shut out and feared.

It is life.
It is death.

It is vulnerability.

Now, I hope my readers understand - those who know me and read this, at least - that this is not an easy subject for me to speak about, let alone write about and share with you all.

With that said, helping others grow and see that they're not alone in whatever situation they may be facing is a growing (burning) passion of mine and it is because of that that I am able to share this tonight.  As uncomfortable as it may be still, I want to see the youth and young adults of this world pull away from their pain, grow stronger, find wisdom and light in their dark places, and eventually be able to help others through similar situations.

Remember: Vulnerability is what *you* make of it.  It is a haunting emotion, but it can serve a helpful purpose if it's opened to the right person at the right time.  I have never, personally, experienced the good it can bring, but I've watched a few close friends experience it/them.  I still await my chance to see good come of allowing oneself to be vulnerable, but I know that in order to have good relationships and, eventually, a good marriage, I need to begin to open up and let it behave as a good emotion instead of solely an evil one.
Try being vulnerable with your boyfriend or girlfriend or your spouse/significant other.
Try it with someone you trust and I can guarantee that it will strengthen your trust of each other - if that person is "the one."
Try to allow yourself the privilege to grow and become the woman, or man, you want to be in this life.

Until out next encounter,
Lauren

His Hazel Eyes

His dark hazel eyes
Burn red as his fingers slide
Amidst his thick black locks.


Broken from within he
Falls into a fading reality;
He gropes for air but it slips
Through his hands as he screams.


Quietly bleeding from
The swollen wounds left
Scrawled upon his back,
He lays there doubled over from
The pain he knows, yet wills to leave.


Through the waterfalls
Falling down his face
He sees his mirrored self.
A glazed over face and sunken eyes
Greet him through the reflection.


Fear overtakes him and
He crumples to his knees.
He feels like he's slowly
Dying from the pain


His tormentor heaps upon him, but
He will not break even though his
Hazel eyes are snuffed of the twinkle within.


I wrote this for a good friend of mine during a night when he called me and he was so far gone that I could barely reach him.  It was as if every word I spoke fell on rotten earth and spoiled before its roots could grab hold of the life pulsing deep within the dirt.
Nothing I said made it through to him.
I was helpless...
I watched him fall and there was nothing I could do about it.

There's only been two people I've met who can read people as well as I can, if not better, and he is one of them.  The worst part of being able to read people is seeing the hurt, feeling it, and knowing just how bad they're hurting, but not being able to fix it.
When he was going through all of this, my heart hurt so badly, but all I could do was pray and hope that was enough of a rope to yank him out of his 6-foot hole.

Eventually, it was.  That and a good listening ear and a lot of firm advice.

I don't know that he ever fully understood just how far his pain had buried him, but I can tell you that he's still trapped behind some things.  He's a stubborn man though.  He's vulnerable and makes himself open to others relatively easy, but he's stubborn and too defensive for an "outsider" to enter enough to help remove the rubble from his chest.
Now, his girlfriend just happens to be my sister and she's not as good at reading the underlying layers of people as I or a couple of his other friends are - which is unfortunate because I feel like she would be able to get through to him when the rest of us clearly cannot.

Cj, I hope you read this and I want you to know that no matter what happens, I'm always going to be your "big sister" and I will always be here for you.  You're very dear to my heart.  You are a good man and I'm grateful that my sister has you in her life and I'm glad that I get to be a part of it as well.
I love you, Cj.

Until our next encounter,
Lauren

The Way She Is

This single moonbeam that pierces the darkness, 

This distant rumor, 

Her beautiful intellect caged, 

bound by your fear of her climbing potential.

This salve used to shield your wounds, 
This silver glint trickling from her eyes, This wisdom consuming your mind in a blaze; 
Where you mask those rosy scars in black shadows, 
Where she guides ribbons of sunshine, 
fuchsia, and blood to unlock your hold. 

And still you lay, astounded, 
Drifting, In this ocean’s blurring pool of words.

The Darkness

There is a certain darkness that has surrounded me since I was in my thirteenth year of life.  It has been like a dark, distorting fog that only I've been privy to.  Only a select few of my friends can see it, but my family cannot see it at all.  Maybe it's because I hide it too well for the sake of the sanity of certain family members, but I know full well there's others in my home who carry a fog of their own, so they should be able to see mine.

The darkness comes and goes in waves.  One day, or for several days, weeks even, I can be happy and lively and then *BAM!*  I'm not okay anymore.  The waves comes crashing in and there's no stopping it.  Some of those stormy days are worse than others.  Some days bring a tsunami.  And what's worse, is there's no telling how long the darkness will stay each time it comes around.  It could be one day or several days before it leaves until the next time.

Sometimes I can see a small light in the distance, as if I'm in a tunnel of some sort, but never can I reach it.  The darkness always traps me and until that fog breaks, I'm incapable of drawing anywhere close to that tiny ball of light.  That light gives way to brighter days and leaves sleepless nights behind - it's a beacon of happiness, a bomb just waiting to explode and destroy the darkness.  There are times where the light is inches from my grasp, but something holds me back each time and I can't reach it.  But, there are also times where my fingertips just barely graze the surface of the illuminating orb and I change and feel so much better, lighter, and happier for a while.

Until the darkness envelops me once more and I retreat, again, into the darkest corner of my heart.

In this place, I find myself longing for the blood to spread along my knife once again or for the tiny flame to heat the metal before it's pressed against my skin, but no; I won't give in.  I won't let these wild desires dominate my soul.  They will not win.

I am strong.
I am strong.
I am strong....

....over and over these words play in my mind.  Maybe if I say them enough, I'll begin to believe my own words.  

Beauty and Self-Worth: Part 1

I attended Faith Tabernacle's National Missionettes Sleepover, March 28-29, and I realized something rather important about all of the girls (K-12th graders):
Beauty is a struggle from full-grown, wise women to even the smallest of girls.

Have you ever looked in the mirror and wondered who it was staring back at you?  Where did they come from and why couldn't they be prettier, skinnier, smarter, better?  I have.  I wonder all the time about what I can do to make myself more socially acceptable and all I end up doing is causing myself a lot of heartache and stress.

But, something a friend of mine said that weekend got me thinking...
God spent a lot of time making us in His image.  He worried over what talents He would give us; He obsessed over the color of our hair; He fussed over whether to give us blue, green, or hazel eyes; He spent time determining just how we would look and what our styles would be - He loved each of us so much that He dedicated so much thought, time and effort into perfecting us to be in His image, not the world's.

Yet instead of worrying about what God thinks of us, we worry about what the world thinks.

Some of us worry so much about our body's shape and size that we make ourselves sick because we've become consumed with being an "appropriate size."  Anorexia and Bulimia have been the culprit of the downfall, and death, of so many beautiful young ladies.  It is not only harmful and destructive of the girl but it can tear apart families and friends and destroy everything good in their life.  An old friend of mine (we were best friends for nearly 15 years) had Bulimia.  She kept it a secret for a long time and I didn't know what to do when I found out.  But, I learned to just be there for her without condemnation or judgement and you know what?  She recovered eventually.  It's still a struggle for her sometimes, but she now has a husband and a daughter to help her through.
For those of you reading this who may struggle with either of these diseases, you're not alone and there are plenty of people willing and ready to help you.  All you need to do is ask.  :)

There are other girls still who hurt from the words thrown at them about how they're not good enough, how they aren't beautiful or skinny, that they dress or act too weird, etc.  These are the ones who struggle with depression of many different levels, from mild to severe, however, there are other problems that can ensue from being depressed.
Cutting is just one of those problems, but it's something that nearly 30% of girls/women struggle with.  I am one of that 30%.

I began cutting in November 2008 and it's been a daily struggle for me since then.  Currently, I am almost 6 months clean from cutting and I plan to keep it that way.  I started to cut because my depression became too much for me to handle and I didn't feel like I could talk to my family about it.  The main reason I felt that was because 1) there were members of my family that were already depressed and needed looking after, 2) there were enough problems going on in the house and I didn't want to be another "problem-child," and 3) because I felt so overlooked by my parents.  I didn't want to burden anyone with my own issues.
But, because I kept all of that inside myself, my thoughts eventually ventured to the leading cause of death among teens and young adults, suicide.  I wrote poetry about it and stories and I thought of how I could rid the world of myself in the most gruesome ways.  Of course, I am still alive today, but the truth of why I never tried to commit suicide is because I was so afraid of what people would think and of what would happen if I'd failed.  I didn't want anyone to find me like that either.

Cutting leaves ugly scars and it certainly does nothing to help with a girls/woman's self-esteem, but fortunately, in my life, there's a man who thinks my scars are beautiful.  I don't believe him on that yet in the least, but I'm learning day-by-day that he loves me for who I am.  He loves me despite all of my scars and all of my flaws.

To any of the young women reading this: You are BEAUTIFUL.  No matter what your body shape or size, no matter what has happened to you in the past, no matter the amount of scars you have on your body; it matters not.  You are gorgeous in my eyes, in the eyes of some special man (or woman), and most importantly, you are a rare jewel of beauty in the eyes of God.  Never forget that.  There is always someone who's willing to talk to you and help you through whatever situation you're going through.  If no one else, I am more than happy to speak with you and help you.  :)

To any young men reading this: You can make a difference in the lives of the women around you.  You are defender's and protectors.  There should never be a time where you don't stand up for a woman and treat her like a Queen.  I challenge you to go to the women in your lives today and tell them how much you love and appreciate them and how special and beautiful they are.  I challenge you to make them feel safe and protected.  I give you this challenge not just for today, but for the rest of your lives.

Until our next encounter,
Lauren

The Voice of God

Standing in a sea of people

raising their voices

up to the sky, I hear

one voice

stand apart from them all.

I look around,

trying to find the face to

which the voice belongs.

I search everywhere,

but can only hear the whisper

high above the crowd.

The Seasons

Fall

Bronze leaves fall lifeless

Down upon the half-warmed earth

In colors of hope.

Winter

Crisp sheets tumble in

Spirals onto frozen greens

Clothed in silver dots.

Spring

Tiny shoots emerge –

Reds, blues, and others dance

To Sun’s bright melody.

Summer

Little droplets kiss

Dancing plants every morning –

With Sun’s heat they’re gone.

Drunken Headlights

A fire raged, tore through

her soul.

The blaze reduced

everything

                 to

                     a

                        s

                           h,

twilight ash that flew away

with every breath of wind.

His favorite swing underneath

the giant Oak

now moves unoccupied in

the evening breeze.

With the rise of the sun

comes the memory of that

black pick-up and its ever blinding

  

    head                        lights.

Her soul burned with rage at

the man driving that shiny F-150,

but when her four-year old

slipped away at 8:53pm,

her heart died…

And that burning blaze reduced

everything

                 to

                     a

                        s

                           h.

Consolations After Being Disowned by My Father

I have pictures beside my bed and on the walls
that believe the skies breathe with the dawn.
They know nothing of what a mind is meant to see.

For them, an Arctic's wave in December
is a father figure at best.

Through the alcoholic whispers and
faulty parental attempts,
I discover that I don't need
his constant criticizing rage or
the barrels of venomous words
he pukes from morn till night.

A weeping tiger sighs beside me
like a silent, falling rain.

And I can smell the flowers bloom
noiselessly from the windows in this room I love.

Why Can't I....?

Tonight everyone is gone.

Tonight I am alone.

Tonight all those I leaned upon are no more.

They are not allowed to be as they once were.

He's forcing me to listen.

He's trying to tear away my protection.

He's trying to destroy my walls.

My mind is consumed with His voice and
I am overwhelmed by the words I hear.

He presses my hand to my paper to write
the words He whispers through my thoughts.

He wants to heal me, so why won't I just let Him?

I want my protection.

I want my walls.

I don't want to be hurt again.

I don't want to be vulnerable.

I don't want to be weak and defenseless.

I want to have one or two someone's
I can talk to and lean on in times of need.

I want to be that same someone for others.

He says I'm loved.

He says I'm beautiful.

He says I'm worth it all.

Even through death, so why can't I believe His truths?

He tells me that my "leaning posts" are gone.

He whispers that my protection has left.

He is still when I fight and scream.

He is near when the rest of humanity fails me.

He has not left me, so why am I so hesitant?

They are gone and they are not here, He says.

"I am here, my child, lean on me.

Let me be The One.

Let me love you.

Let me pull you up out of the chasm you've fallen into.

Come.  Take my hand, beauty."

He is gentle and kind and true.

He is unfailing and unconditional in His love.

He is a good Daddy, so why can't I trust His love for me?