A Shrine to Violence and Hope

My Rapist. Who is that person? I hate the word. It's rough and sharp and all of the dark and dirty parts of me reverberate off of the edges of those letters.

My body feels like this shrine. This temple to violence. Physical and emotional. Remnants of men who released their rage, their frustration, their disappointments onto and inside of me. Shadowy rooms left empty for them - fill me up, use me up. It seemed better that way; give myself away so nothing could be taken. Like a yard sale at the end of the day - slash the prices, make an offer, "Everything must go!"

So who am I now? Do you ever really recover? I can't get those parts back. All of the pieces that were taken and given away. I can't track them down and demand they be returned.

I found new parts though. And I built new shrines. I opened myself up to miracles and healing. My body opened and changed and created a new life. This perfect, breathing truth. Proof of some divinity living inside of me. A product of love and light and hope. Scars from something real and beautiful and new. A bright burning light, bursting forth from my ashes.

Ramblings on Loneliness

I feel loneliness creeping up on me like a fog. I keep trying to move forward, to wave it away, but it never seems to last. It gathers back around me, clinging to my skin like wet clothes. Did I feel this lonely with A? Did I feel this pervading sense of disconnection? I can't even remember. Maybe I was so distracted in trying to fix myself, to be what he wanted, to be "enough" that I didn't have time ore space in my soul to even recognize the loneliness and disconnection. I had a purpose: convince myself and everyone else that he was something he was not. I had a reason to maintain relationships with my family: to prove he wasn't in control , that I was still "me," and to lie about how awesome he was in hopes that I could convince myself he didn't suck every ounce of joy from my world.

That chapter of my life feels like a myth. It is hazy and feels just out of reach. It is dripping in labels and generalizations. Small snapshots I've clung to in retelling me story to old and new relationships. The bullet points I need to prove I was justified in leaving. To remind me and everyone else that I was wronged. I don't know who I was when I look back at the me that stayed. And stayed. I don't know what is real or exaggerated anymore. I don't know A and I certainly don't know myself.

Now I am about to get married again. I am madly in love. He supports my dreams. He encourages me and lifts me up. He tells me I'm smart, and capable, and beautiful and sexy. He trusts me and is faithful. But I am still lonely. I am still disconnected. I still don't know how to have friends. I feel like an outsider in my family. I don't know how to relate to them anymore. I don't know how to fill the space where all of my lies about Andy and our life sat. I don't know how to explain that I am happy, and loved, and supported, but still feel acutely alone.

100 Questions Day 4: What is my personal blind spot; what have I been unwilling to look at?

My personal blind spot for many years has been my unwillingness to accept my actual role in my dysfunctional relationships and my tendency to lay all blame on the other person in those relationships. In coming to understand that my previous relationship was emotionally abusive I felt immediately justified and validated in so many ways. For the first time I realized that I wasn't crazy. Someone I wanted desperately to trust had systematically broken down my worth and ability to trust myself, my feelings, my intuition, and my ability to reason and think logically. He created situations that forced me to question everything about myself until I was sure that I was unworthy of love or basic respect. He used my moments of vulnerability and honesty as ammunition and weapons against me later to prove his superiority. Sex and intimacy were used as tools for power and control. I was the keeper of his secrets and shame. I was in a very real way victimized by someone I loved. To be honest, it felt so good to have a trained professional look me in the eye and tell me that what I experienced for so many years was abusive behavior. It was so important in my ability to begin my process of healing and moving forward.

Accepting my role as a victim of abuse was just the beginning. What was especially difficult to face was that I actively handed over my power in many ways to A. That my own lack of skills and emotional health helped feed into the cycle of co-dependency. What is always difficult to accept is my behavior that I am responsible for without taking on responsibility for things I do not own. The truth is that he was emotionally abusive, but in some ways it felt easier for me. I didn't have to be responsible for my own dreams, wants or needs. There was a very real part of me that was happy to latch onto what he demanded because it felt less risky. It felt safe at first because it would be his failure ultimately. I didn't have to admit that I was miserable and unfulfilled. I didn't have to take responsibility for digging into who I am and truly understand what I needed and wanted from life. Instead, I poured myself into him. I handed over everything to him because it felt easier.

In fairness, there are many things that contributed to  me giving away my power. There are always reason we do the things we do, no matter how small or big the transgression. In fact, I have a really good understanding of the "why." I am not interested in that at this point. I am interested in reconciling where I come from and the choices I make right now. I am interested in taking responsibility for my role in my life in an honest way. Not as a martyr taking on the weight of everyone else's behavior or a victim at the mercy of the universe with no power. In order to build a life that is authentic and healthy I need to understand my role in dysfunction. It was really hard to swallow at first, but I am grateful for the awareness. It feels good to let someone else "take the lead" for me; I like placing the pressure on someone else when I am honest. I needed to face this character flaw in order to see where it can lead me if left unchecked.

100 Questions Day 3: Are There Any Skills/Talents You May Not Be Utilizing?

This semester is finally over! Now I can actually relax and take some time to reflect before the new year.


I have a tendency to minimize myself in every way possible. I want to take up less space literally and figuratively. A tendency to temper my intelligence, humor, opinions, beliefs, expectations... for fear of making others feel challenged or less-than. I shrug off recognition and praise and pass them to the person standing next to me. There is a cyclical fear churning inside me of not being enough and being too much, and it has led to a disconnection and systematic denial of my own skills and talents.

This past year has been a journey of rediscovering myself; sometimes intentionally, but more frequently through painful lessons and acts of surrender. The process has uncovered a few things I think, as uncomfortable as it feels to say, may be some of my skills/talents like singing, writing, drawing: I am not the best by any means in any of these things, but I am good at them, and they bring me joy. Recently though, I rediscovered a part of myself that feels huge. As if I had a key to my core or soul or whatever we want to call it, and I suddenly remembered that this place could be unlocked.

As far back as I can remember I have had the tendency to be acutely aware of and feel the suffering of others and in the world me. I was a child who truly felt everything. I hated for my siblings to be punished or disciplined (even with good reason) because I wanted to protect them from all pain and discomfort. Characters in books and stories became three-dimensional and I would cry for them in their struggles. Watching embarrassing comedies has always been difficult because I feel the embarrassment, but also the shame.

Then, the past ten years of my life were spent being told that my emotions were not to be trusted or valued. That I was irrational and my empathy was a source of weakness. I learned to suppress my emotions and feelings and shrank into myself. I put on a mask of apathy and cold logic until I became totally disconnected from the girl who cried over putting salt on a slug at 18-years-old.

While having a conversation with was my dad I suddenly felt overcome with sadness for the state of the world. I found myself choking back tears for the Syrian refugees. For the anger and rage and violence filling so many people. For how disconnected we are in a time where we have access to the whole world. It took everything inside of me to not burst into tears. All I could think to do was how sad and isolated we have become, and how desensitized to human pain and suffering our culture is today.  I felt stupid at first with a million tapes running through my head: "You're being ridiculous. Stop being so emotional. Pull yourself together. You're just being dramatic.."

The truth is, it felt like coming home. Like I finally opened the door to a part of myself that I had kept locked away and hidden. And that I protected this part of myself from all of the darkness and grime that I was swimming through because I understood the importance of empathy and connection. I understood on a visceral level that this was an essential part of who I am as a person and my purpose in this world, and it needed to be preserved. And it came crashing back and I feel like I found myself. That I have been wandering in the dark and realized I had the flashlight in my backpack the whole time.

100 Questions Day 2: What Do I Need To Say That Others Have Left Unspoken?

This question was a little confusing, but I interpreted it as giving a voice to the things other's should have or couldn't say to me in life. There was a lot of pain in this question, but I also realized how much progress I have made. I don't need to hear these things from any specific person other than myself. I can create my own closure.

Day 2: What do I need to say that others have left unspoken?

It isn't your fault. I tore you down because I don't know how to love myself. You were and are always enough. I took as much as you were willing to give. I lied. And lied. And lied. You were right not to trust me . I didn't value you. I didn't understand how to love you. I am sorry. I never allowed real intimacy. I let you down. I saw you as an opportunity and obstacle most of the time. I blew up our life and always thought I had the power to keep you coming back. You deserve better.

I saw you as an escape from my discomfort. I violated your body, spirit, mind, trust, and you as whole. I am responsible. I am opportunistic and callous. I used you. I am a predator. You didn't ask for it. You are not responsible for my behavior. 

I was insecure and wasn't ready, but the time we had was good.

I did my best and I love you.

100 Questions Day 1: Where Is My Heart Guiding Me?

100 Questions That Will Transform Your Life

I am going to answer one question every day for the next 100 days. I have been feeling spiritually disconnected and trying to keep myself busy in an attempt to not feel “unproductive.” Really, I have been terrified of the next two months bringing up feelings that I have no interest in feeling.

So here goes Day 1:

Where is my Heart guiding me?

My mind keeps pulling me in a million different directions: “You need a ‘real’ job.” “Go to school full-time.” “What will people think if you get a job at a coffee shop?” “What have you done with your life?” “If I don’t move closer to J, this will fall apart.”

But when I let myself get quiet for just a second, I start getting a pretty clear vision of what my heart wants:

I love my apartment. I love the area I live in. I love learning and digging into school. I love my coffee shops and local food and bookstores. I want to get involved in my community. I want to develop real relationships. I want some roots. For the first time in my life, I really feel like I am tired of running.  I have worked hard, even if it feels like I’m starting from scratch now. I gave my marriage every portion of myself until there was nothing left to give. I worked and went to school and did whatever I needed to do to support myself.  

It is ok for me to have a season of rest. To slow down. To fill myself with good, and joy, and happiness, and all of the things that provide nectar for my soul.

I want to get a job that doesn’t suck my life force away, but allows me to buy nourishing foods, go see movies, and start horseback riding and going to yoga classes. I want to actually learn while going to school. I want to spend meaningful time with J and nourish our relationship, while still nourishing myself. I want to spend time with my niece and nephews and family in meaningful ways. I want be involved in my church because it fills me up and I want to give back the overflow. I want take walks, go hiking, and fall asleep at the beach. I want to start saving money for my future family.

My heart and God have been patiently whispering these things to me in my stillness. As my eyes get heavy at night and I can’t distract myself anymore. I am terrified of taking care of myself and allowing myself to be happy, But my mom said something to me today that really made me stop: “A beat you down for 10 years, are you going to take his place?”

Hell. No.

Did you lose your song?

Where did you lose your song little bird?
I never hear you anymore.
The sun rises quiet and alone.

Was it in writhing flesh
lost in strange bodies,
cold touch and whiskey breath?

Where did you lose your long little bird?
I thought I heard you this morning,
but it was the wind chilling my bones.

Was it in cutting words
reflected in the mirror,
violent hunger and sweat?

Don’t you know?
The mountains have nothing to echo,
they are just carbon and voiceless stories.

Don’t you know?
The moon has stopped chasing the sun.
There is no melody to bring the morning.