Change Is Coming

 

The past few weeks have been difficult. Health issues have been plaguing me and I always feel as if the world is wrong during the winter.

I have not really said much about myself on this blog for a long time. Not because I had something to hide or nothing to say, I just felt that I was less important than my subject matter. I have used my story in order to bring reality to the pain of abuse, to show that healing is more than possible, to try and encourage others to speak out.

I have also shared music, song and inspiration from other writers. I ripped myself open so that you could see what was inside, I exposed my pscyche but kept some doors shut. Some will open over time others will remain for my viewing only. Such is the nature of needing some privacy.

I realised this week that I have been unkind to myself. I have not been allowing myself to truly live and experience the joys and treasures that life holds. I doubted my worthiness for a long time. I have "real life" problems to work through, health issues to put right and big decisions to make.

Being bluntly honest with myself I realised that I have never lived for me. I was the boy for all tastes that became a man for all seasons. I lived in such a way that I thought was expected of me and frequently demanded of me.

Enough! This is my life and I intend to make some major changes and life decisions.

I have forgotten to apply the advice that I give to others, to my own situation.

My confidence shattered when I lost my businesses, other events kicked me in the stomach. I became a recluse, hiding from the light of life.

My own needs became at best secondary to those of others. The saying springs to mind - "I'm as good as you, as bad as I am" or something similar.

This blog is becoming a ramble, but it comes from the heart. Mine is a bit of a mess so it's no wonder really. I am far from perfect. I am like an old battered suitcase. I have character though and am not the evil fiend that some have painted me for revealing my past. I need to work on my self confidence, on my shyness and on my fear of the unknown.

Unless I take a risk I will never know. So take a risk I shall.  I have to do it on my own terms and at my own pace.

I am still working on the book that I am co-authoring with a survivor/therapist from Canada. We hope to break boundaries in the field of self help for child abuse survivors. On Facebook I am running a peer to peer support group for sexual violence survivors. It is going well
and I have help from three amazing admins.

Everything else I thought I was working towards has been cast onto the rubbish heap of life.

Change is most certainly coming. It excites as much as it terrifies me.

I feel as if abuse has followed me my entire life. Maybe I thought that I was only good enough for abusive situations.

No more.

Thank you for reading. 

Like a wave of stinging bees
a vast maw spews forth
its delivery of denigration,
staccato sticks and stones
hurled with venomous vigor
in machine gun frenzy
the leaden poison bullets
hitting the heart hard
jerking the soul strings
wearing thin with insult,
acidity dripping and dissolving
corroding their committment
polarisation pulsing into view
building walls ever higher
cemented by hatred
surely it is not meant?
where is the committment,
the shining example?
replaced by petty point-scoring
and manifestations malignant
boiling in intensity fermented
showering ears with barbed comment
eyes roll and look for deliverance
ever stalled like praise
a poised viper waiting
to spring with pent-up
bitterness an addicition always
everyone else wrong, always
an excuse for adrenaline fix
of abuse, a tirade of blame
heaped like so much shit
on their shoulders, broadened
by years of this manic seque
the mind of a seeming madman
being called forthly all too often
channelling its primal negativity
pounding, pounding, demanding
submission the only solution
that is unless you leave
I am glad I am leaving
 

Building Blocks

Most people have a happy childhood right? My childhood had happy moments, but overall was a very miserable experience.

It is said that a child's character is formed by the time they are six years old. We are born with a predetermined number of building blocks and how we are raised, how we are treated and the experiences we have decide how we use these building blocks.

Our reactions to danger, trust, pain, love, anger, fear depend on where we place these building blocks.

So much in life is a "two way street". Give and take, action and reaction.

If our formative years had a high percentage of negative experiences then we react by building walls in an attempt to lessen the impact of these events. As we are young builders then we may build these walls too high, thereby isolating ourselves and making it very difficult to let anyone close in the future.

As well as blocking out the bad experiences, we also block out good ones. Our reactions to events in later life may become inappropriate because the walls we built in childhood are too high or too low.

Hiding behind too many walls leaves us miserable and isolated. In an attempt to protect ourselves in childhood we inadvertently deny ourselves the ability to fully enjoy and appreciate life.

Every good building should be built on solid and safe foundations. Foundations can crack if not built with the correct materials and in turn the building on which the foundation stands becomes unstable.

The age at which traumatic abuse occurs can determine how we cope with it. In my case the abuse started when I was still a toddler. My foundations cracked and in turn the building of my life became very unstable, to the point that it actually broke into separate sections. Some walls fell down and some of the debris used to strengthen what remained standing. It made me an "incomplete" adult.

Walls exist where there should be doors; open spaces where a wall should protect me; turrets instead of boundary walls.

My reactions to danger, trauma and intimacy became exaggerated. Trust became distorted. The survival instinct kept me alive but not fully functioning. With my incomplete structure I allowed enemies in and kept friends out. Cracks exist, some wide enough and deep enough to trap and imprison me. One wall deals with danger, another love. A tower handles trust and a drawbridge intimacy. Fear resides in a moat and anger in the metal spikes that top the walls.

All different, segmented, pieces of whom I should have been. Some pieces working independently whilst others have wooden bridge linking them tentatively. Together they form me, my castle.

I'm calling in the builders. I don't want repairmen anymore that just patch and make do. It's time to rebuild, this time in safety and with love and care too. No longer an eyesore but something to be proud of, something appropriate. Join me?