Embracing the Journey of Healing

When I embarked on this journey of healing, I knew the path would be filled with obstacles meant to deter me. The initial excitement of starting a new chapter in my life quickly morphed into a reality check as I encountered challenges that tested my resolve. Each hurdle felt insurmountable at times, but with each obstacle, I gained more confidence in who I am as a person.

In the past, I viewed certain characteristics—empathy, vulnerability, sensitivity—as weaknesses. I was conditioned to believe that strength meant being unyielding, stoic, and closed off. However, as I navigated the tumultuous waters of my healing journey, I discovered that these qualities that society often overlooks are the very hallmarks of a strong person. It requires incredible bravery to feel deeply, to be open to both joy and sorrow, and to rise after every fall.

It’s all too easy to let the negativity of the world distort our view of life. External expectations, societal pressures, and critical voices can seep into our consciousness, obscuring the light of hope that resides within us. Yet, I have learned that it is hard—truly hard—to hold on to hope for better days, especially when faced with the harsh realities of life. Yet, that hope is what fuels our journey.

I have established a routine of self-care that has become paramount not only for my physical health but also for my mental well-being. Walking has transformed into a sanctuary for me. While my feet tread the earth, I find a rhythm that acts as a backdrop for quiet reflection. With music as my motivator and nature as my rejuvenator, each step becomes a meditation in motion.

"Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished." — Lao Tzu

This quote resonates deeply with me. Nature’s serenity has taught me that healing takes time, and so does growth. Yet, with each passing moment, I feel more grounded, more aware, and—most importantly—more accepting of who I am.

Writing, once an outlet for the emotional upheaval I felt, has become another powerful tool in my journey. Initially, it provided a space for me to release emotions without judgment. Now, it serves as a channel through which I wish to help others who are on their own journeys of healing, or those who haven’t yet found the courage to begin.

Through the written word, I hope to extend a lifeline to those who feel isolated in their pain, offering them understanding and connection. You are not alone; I see you, and I feel you—your struggles, your fears, your aspirations.

As I continue to walk this path of healing, I understand that the journey is ongoing. But each challenge I face is not a deterrent; it’s an opportunity to rise, to learn, and to become the strongest version of myself. I hope that by sharing my experiences, I can inspire others to take that leap of faith, to embrace their own journeys, and to uncover the strength that lies within them—strength they may have previously overlooked.

Remember, healing isn’t just about the destination; it’s about the beautiful process of rediscovery along the way. Let us take this journey together, step by step, heart to heart.

At Day’s End, I Rise

At Day’s End, I Rise

At the end of the day, I sit with my thoughts,
A symphony of choices, battles fought,
Each moment a brushstroke on the canvas of me,
Living for myself, wild and free.

I walk through the echoes of whispers untold,
A tapestry woven of silver and gold,
And though the world may press heavy, unkind,
I carry my heart, fierce and refined.

Each dawn I awaken, I breathe in my fears,
I dance through the shadows, I wipe away tears,
For I only get one life to dance in this light,
No retakes allowed, just this singular fight.

When my head meets the pillow, the world fades away,
I find in the silence the courage to stay,
And I rest with the knowledge that deep in my soul,
I’ve lived for my truth, I’ve honored my whole.

I raise my voice for those who remain silent,
In a chorus of dreams, together we’re vibrant,
For too long they’ve whispered that we’ll never prevail,
But I’m the storm that breaks through the veil.

It should come as no surprise, can you not see?
From the ashes I rise, like a phoenix, I’m free,
Born from the embers of doubt and despair,
I am more than survival; I am the flare.

With each step I take, I write my own tale,
A journey of courage where dreams set sail,
I am the author, the architect too,
Of a life that’s a masterpiece, painted in hue.

So here’s my reminder, my battle cry loud,
In a world that demands we shrink down and bow,
At the end of the day, it’s your life—make it bright,
Stand tall, speak your truth, claim your birthright.

I am not just a whisper; I’m the roar in the night,
Living for myself, I embrace the fight,
For in every heartbeat, I find my own way,
And I rise, oh I rise, at the end of the day.

Whispers of Healing

In the quiet hours where shadows stretch long,
I stand at the precipice, a place I belong,
Taking steps towards a journey, so fraught yet so bright,
Where self-care is a beacon, guiding me into the light.

But oh, the unsaid words, those whispers confined,
They gnaw at my spirit, leave scars unaligned,
Like a cancer that festers, consuming from within,
A battle to breathe, a war I must win.

They say I’m selfish, for seeking my peace,
But how can I flourish when the heart's under siege?
For years I’ve been molded by others’ demands,
Happiness tethered by invisible hands.

I wore my joy like a cloak made of sorrow,
Building my future, forsaking tomorrow,
In a world of expectations, I lost my own name,
Forgot how to feel joy, just played a sad game.

Yet here I am, grasping this truth so profound,
That I’m worthy of healing, I’m ready to stand,
And yes, the choice echoes with a haunting cost—
To live my true self, might mean I could lose you,
But I promise you this, my heart will be true.

Together, I hope, through the valleys we’ll tread,
Walking out of the shadows, where light’s softly wed,
To find in the journey, forgiveness, a balm,
You are my anchor, my solace, my calm.

Still the little girl, who needs your hand near,
In a dance towards healing, let’s conquer the fear,
For each step that we take, your presence ignites,
A spark in my darkness, a fire in the night.

So let's weave our stories, letting love be the thread,
Embarking on this healing, neither of us misled,
In the tapestry of life, where sorrow once roamed,
I’ll cherish your heart, as together we’ve grown.

Let’s walk into the light, hand in trembling hand,
Building a future on the truths we both understand,
For the road may be winding, but love shines the way,
And in this journey of healing, together we’ll stay.

Lost in the Thicket

In the heart of this forest,

Where shadows stretch like hands,

I’m the black sheep wandering,

Locked away in my own strands.

Branches claw at my spirit,

Whispering truths I can’t share,

The weight of a smile, counterfeit,

Yet nobody seems to care.

They laugh at my awkwardness,

A punchline at someone’s feast,

While I clutch my secrets tight,

Fearing that pain never ceased.

I wanted to belong, you know?

To dance in the sun's warm glow,

But here I am, a ghost,

Echoing worlds they don’t know.

The masks hang heavy with lies,

Painted colors that fade and blend,

While I lock away the fragments,

Of dreams that twist, break, and bend.

I scream into the void of night,

But the silence laughs back at me,

"Look who’s drowning in their plight,

Maybe this is how it’s meant to be."

They tell me it’s all in my head,

As if my heart is a fickle thing,

But every tear from this bed

Is a bird refusing to sing.

I build my walls with laughter,

Brick by brick, smile by smile,

But inside, the tempest brews,

And it’s been raging for a while.

These thoughts, they spiral like storms,

Originality bears the weight,

And I wonder if anyone sees,

The lonely truth wrapped in fate.

I’m tired of bending and breaking,

For approval, for love, for a face,

When the mirror reflects a masquerade,

And I’m lost in this twisted place.

So here’s to the wild and the weird,

To the rhythms that don’t fit the beat,

I’ll stand tall in my thicket of thoughts,

And I’ll rise on my own two feet.

Let the forest echo my fury,

Let the thunder roar in my chest,

For I am no longer a prisoner,

In this life I will find my rest.

The Bitter Taste of Love

In the mirror of memories, I see the ghost of you,
A shadow danced around me, cloaked in colors untrue.
I was consumed, wrapped tight in an image so grand,
Thought I touched the ethereal, forever in your hand.

But truth, a sharp knife, gleamed in the light of day,
It whispered in my ear, though I turned and looked away.
This world — it cradled me, soft in its embrace,
Yet I wasted it all chasing a fleeting face.

You built me up with laughter, like a tower of glass,
Only to watch it shatter as your kindness slipped past.
Misery wrapped like a shroud, intricately sewn,
Every thread a reminder of how far I've flown.

The siren's song of devotion, it echoed in my chest,
But I learned love's bitter lesson, felt the hollowed unrest.
I reached for the horizon, thinking I saw my worth,
Yet found timelines unraveling like dirt birthed from earth.

I have to love myself — a compass to guide me,
Before I can seek another where my heart may find peace.
How cruel this masquerade, this dance of false affection,
I forgave you time after time, lost in your reflection.

But you never saw the oceans, the storms your words ignited,
The aching in my chest, the kindness you invited.
I wore forgiveness like a cloak, heavy on my skin,
A reminder of your absence, of the love that couldn't begin.

Yet in this melancholic maze, I carve a path anew,
Brick by brick, I build a fortress, no longer just for you.
I rise from the rubble of dreams that slipped away,
To find the sun in fragments of the dawn's first ray.

So here's to the nights I wept beneath your borrowed light,
To the lessons learned in shadows, to reclaiming my own fight.
I'll gather pieces of myself from the ashes of despair,
And forge a love within that no man could ever wear.

For the world is vast and waiting, with abundance in its bloom,
And I'll dance amidst the petals, shake off yesterday's gloom.
The truth has eyes that shine, and though it's hard to face,
I’ll embrace my own reflection, as I rise to find my place.

This is an Open-Ended Letter to Past Traumas

Dear Past Traumas,

I write this letter with the intention of reclaiming my narrative, the story that you sought to define but could never fully own. As I reflect on my journey through childhood trauma and the adult trauma that followed, I acknowledge the shadows you cast over my life. However, I also realize that my experiences are not the sum of my existence. They are chapters in my story, but like any good book, I am the author of my own ending.

Let's start with accountability. I take responsibility for my naivety—my inability to recognize the warning signs when your true colors were unfurled before me like banners of impending doom. I trusted easily, believing the best in people, only to be met with abuse that would shape my understanding of love and safety. But in admitting this to myself, I understand that accountability does not mean shame. It means recognition of my past choices and learning from them.

What you’ve done to me—those moments of hurt, betrayal, and confusion—do not define me, nor do they get to dictate the person I strive to be. I learned that my value is not dictated by circumstances inflicted upon me but by the choices I make moving forward. I choose strength, resilience, and the wisdom that comes from overcoming my past.

In the words of Stevie Nicks, "I wanna be the lighthouse." I want to illuminate the path not only for myself but for others who find themselves swallowed by darkness. I want to shine a light in stormy weather, for there are others who are facing their own traumas, feeling lost and adrift. I want to bring us all together, to teach those who listen that we can fight back against the shadows that loom over us.

Trauma can be a thief, stealing not just our innocence but also our hope for a beautiful future. Yet, it is important to remember that we possess the power to fight back. I have leaned into my faith in God, who offers guidance and grace in the face of overwhelming circumstances. His presence reminds me that I am not alone as I navigate this journey of healing and reclamation. There is profound comfort in knowing that, as I take ownership of my story, it is ultimately God who holds the final say on my worth and my future.

I have come to understand that my past does not dictate my destiny. I have the will and determination to rise, to reach for the best version of myself. This is where I reclaim my power, allowing my experiences—not to shackle me—but to free me. I will not allow abuse or trauma to plot the course of my life; instead, I will reshape my narrative, one filled with courage, love, and understanding.

So, here’s my declaration: I will remember the lessons learned through hardship, but I will not be imprisoned by them. I will rise like a phoenix, carrying the weight of my past with grace but allowing it to fuel my desire for a brighter future. I assert that what happened to me is not who I am, but rather a catalyst to becoming a stronger, more compassionate person.

To anyone else grappling with their own traumas, I offer you, my hand. Together, let us share our stories, support one another, and embrace our journeys toward healing. Remember, we are not defined by the darkness of our past but rather by how we choose to stand in the light of our futures.

With strength and conviction,

Kristi Moore

Whispers of a Forgotten Self

Deeply embedded in my mind,
memories of him, I cannot rewind.
Searching for relief,
a quick fix in a bottle,
I thought I’d found it,
a sweet escape to throttle.

In that alcohol-induced dream,
I felt, then faded—a silent scream.
Numbness wrapped around my heart,
left me face to face with
the male I was running from,
a ghost that never departs.

He stripped away the layers,
revealed my tender scars,
his hands, raw and rough,
painted shadows across my body
with every stolen spark.
The old me died,
yet echoes linger in the dark.

A hollow shell, a wandering ghost,
Behind my smiles,
is a life that no one knows,
a pain woven into my seams,
I wear the guise of strength,
to keep them from my dreams.

So if I don’t cry,
and carry the charade,
maybe, just maybe,
they won’t see the masquerade.
In this labyrinth of sorrow,
I sometimes feel lost,
a whispering thought,
of who I was, and the cost.

I am the sum of every touch,
the warmth that turned to winter,
a fractured self,
a forgotten splendor.
And yet somewhere in the haze,
beneath the sinking weight,
lies a flicker—a flame,
perhaps not too late.

So I rise, I breathe,
facing the melodies of my despair.
For in this spoken silence,
I reclaim what’s rare.
With each step, I’ll write,
a new chapter, a new art,
for even in darkness,
I’ll find the light in my heart.

The Mind: A Mysterious Organ of Resilience

The mind is an extraordinary organ, capable of remarkable feats—like remembering the smallest details while conveniently forgetting the most essential and impactful truths. As I reflect on my own journey, I have come to understand how our minds often dissociate from painful memories; it's a coping mechanism that can protect us but also keep us tethered to our traumas.

Sometimes, it feels like my mind is a fortress, shielding me from the harsh realities of the past. However, while this dissociation may act as a safeguard, it can also hinder growth. It is as if I am walking through a foggy landscape, where the sun occasionally breaks through but seldom illuminates the path ahead. This journey toward a positive mindset and healing from past traumas is not an easy one. If it were, then everyone would be on this path, thriving with ease.

"What is done in the dark will always come to light." This quote resonates deeply with me as I navigate my own shadows. I have been hurt by people I trusted the most; their actions sometimes cut deeper than I could have imagined. The truth is that I have learned to confront these feelings head-on, not to judge them for their choices, but to reclaim my own power. It’s not my role to excuse their behavior, nor is it my burden to carry the weight of their actions.

Reflecting on today, a mental health day I have carved out for myself, I find solace in exploring the remnants of my inner child. It is essential to acknowledge what I have survived and how far I have come. I refuse to allow the ghosts of the past to dictate my future. I am choosing to embrace the present, unveiling the truths that my mind has kept tucked away for so long.

As I carve my path going forward, I recognize that not everyone is on the same journey. My expectations of who I want to become don’t align with others, and that’s perfectly okay. Each person carries their own burdens—their own skeletons in the closet—and while I might know of their darkness, I also know that I can live with my own light. The real question is, can they?

In this vast landscape of the mind, where dissociation can be both a shield and a shackle, I choose to be brave. I will not merely exist in the shadows of my past. Instead, I will step into the light, armed with the knowledge that healing is a journey, not a destination. Through understanding and compassion—both for myself and others—I will continue to grow, unfurling the layers of my psyche to reveal the strength that lies within.

Today is a testament to resilience, a day to reflect, reclaim, and aspire. The mind may be mysterious, but I believe in its power to transcend the darkness, embracing growth, love, and authenticity. Together, we can embark on this journey, illuminating our paths one step at a time.

My Pregnancy Story: The Journey Through Danger and Discovery

Pregnancy is a beautifully intricate journey that often comes with its own set of challenges. For me, it started off relatively normal, but it took a startling turn as I entered my third trimester. Looking back, I can see multiple layers of complexity, uncertainty, and essential health factors that shaped my experiences, including mild preeclampsia, which later escalated, and the shocking diagnosis of Factor V Leiden that could be linked to my use of birth control and a subsequent pulmonary embolism. This article is a reflection on that journey and the critical health decisions that followed.

A Normal Start

At the start of my pregnancy, things proceeded according to plan. I felt good, my appointments were uneventful, and I got to enjoy the excitement of preparing for my first child. However, as I approached my third trimester, my experience took a sudden turn. During my routine visit to the OBGYN, I was shocked to learn that while I should have been measuring ahead, I was actually measuring two weeks behind. To add to my concern, my blood pressure was slightly elevated, which set off alarm bells.

The Preeclampsia Diagnosis

Shortly after that appointment, I was diagnosed with mild preeclampsia, a condition characterized by high blood pressure and potential complications that can arise during pregnancy. The moment I received that diagnosis, a cloud of anxiety settled over me. My doctors' goals shifted quickly: first, I needed to make it to 37 weeks, then, after further evaluation, to 34 weeks. The sentiment around me was clear; we were in a race against time to protect both me and my unborn child.

As days turned into weeks, my condition worsened. The infrequent yet severe headaches I had dismissed now morphed into a life-threatening situation. On September 21st, what began as a minor headache spiraled quickly into intense pain, alarming symptoms of trouble breathing, nausea, and an ominous sensation that my lungs were filling with fluid. The pain was so overwhelming that my doctors feared I might be having a seizure. I was quickly put on oxygen, a moment that I still recall vividly.

Timeline of Events

Date Physical Symptoms Medical Action

September 15 Protein in urine Hospital admission

September 21 Severe headache, elevated blood pressure Readmission for monitoring

September 22 Severe pain, trouble breathing Oxygen support, monitoring

September 23 Critical situation Scheduled for emergency C-section

The Arrival of Zoey Grace

By the morning of September 23rd, waiting was no longer an option. I was scheduled for a C-section, and by 5:39 AM, my daughter—Zoey Grace—entered the world at only 31 weeks and 4 days gestation, weighing a scant 2 lbs 10 oz and measuring 16 inches long. Everything felt surreal. Although relieved to meet her, the fear bubbled just beneath the surface; the odds weren’t easy for a preterm baby.

She spent her first two days in the NICU before issues arose once more. Doctors discovered she had developed a pneumothorax (collapsed lung), necessitating her transfer to another hospital better equipped to handle such complications. I prayed that she would heal quickly, and thankfully, with the dedicated care of her healthcare team, her lungs healed without the need for a chest tube.

After days of intense monitoring, setbacks, and moments of worry, I finally got to take my baby home—10 days before her due date. The joy I felt was profound yet juxtaposed with the anxiety of our earlier ordeal.

The Unexpected Twist: Factor V Leiden and Pulmonary Embolism

Fast forward to February of this year—seven years later—and I discovered another alarming health revelation. I was diagnosed with Factor V Leiden, a genetic condition that heightens the risk of abnormal blood clots, which led to a pulmonary embolism. The link between my use of birth control, a potential family history, and this diagnosis became alarmingly evident.

"Sometimes the journey of motherhood brings with it challenges beyond expectation. Understanding our health is key to navigating these waters."

I discovered that some forms of birth control can increase the likelihood of blood clots, especially for women who have pre-existing conditions such as Factor V Leiden. Consequently, I had to make swift lifestyle changes, including exploring alternative contraceptive options and starting a regimen of blood thinners to prevent additional clots. My healthcare team guided me through this process, helping me find ways to juggle motherhood while being more vigilant about my health.

Conclusion: A Journey of Resilience and Reflection

Reflecting on my pregnancy story, I realize it encompasses much more than the awe of bringing a new life into the world. It is also an intense examination of health, risks, decisions, and the power of awareness. This experience has empowered me to educate myself and others about the potential risks associated with birth control, pregnancy complications like preeclampsia, and genetic conditions like Factor V Leiden.

Navigating the twists and turns of motherhood has shaped not only my approach to health but also my understanding of the world around me. It has taught me the importance of awareness, the value of informed medical decisions, and the strength that emerges from adversity. I hope that by sharing my story, I can encourage other women to become proactive advocates for their own health and well-being, especially during such a transformative time as pregnancy.

What is Friendship? What is a Relationship?

Friendship and relationships are fundamental aspects of human existence that shape our lives and contribute to our emotional wellbeing. At their core, friendship is defined as a close, voluntary relationship characterized by mutual affection, trust, and support among individuals. A relationship, on the other hand, can encompass a broader connection, defined by the way in which two or more entities—be they people, concepts, or objects—interact and relate to one another.

However, understanding the delicate balance between these two concepts goes beyond mere definitions. In my experience, it’s clear that honesty, accountability, and the ability to navigate toxic behavior are paramount to maintaining any healthy connection.

The Foundation of True Friendship

The essence of friendship lies in mutual respect and understanding. Genuine friendships thrive on trust, and any breakdown in that trust can lead to toxic behaviors that can ultimately destroy the relationship. I’ve encountered toxic friends and family members throughout my life, particularly influenced by my challenging childhood. Growing up in an environment with unhealthy dynamics made me acutely aware of the consequences that arise from relationships fraught with deceit, manipulation, and playing the victim.

The reality is, one often feels obligated to maintain ties out of familial love or long-standing friendships, even in the face of toxic behavior. Society tends to cultivate a narrative that encourages sticking with those we’re related to or have known for a long time. However, this leads many to endure relationships that sap their happiness instead of nourish it.

Accountability and Honesty: The Pillars of Healthy Connections

For any relationship to flourish, accountability and honesty are imperative. I remember a painful family situation with my in-laws that highlighted this truth. My husband and his father had a tumultuous relationship exacerbated by pre-existing issues like short tempers and narcissistic tendencies. One unfortunate incident escalated into a series of misunderstandings, showcasing how toxic behavior can distort reality.

My husband expressed his frustrations in a venting post directed at my father-in-law and my mother-in-law took it personally, removing an objective lens from the situation. This moment of miscommunication led to deep rifts, with my in-laws choosing to skip our daughter’s birthday celebration. Such experiences illuminated how fragile relationships can become when honesty and accountability are absent.

In navigating these troubled waters, my husband and I made the difficult decision to prioritize our family’s peace over toxic interactions. We chose to skip Christmas celebrations to avoid further conflict, illustrating that sometimes, self-care means making tough choices about who we allow into our lives.

Breaking Free from Toxic Patterns

One of the greatest lessons I've learned over the years is that breaking free from toxic patterns is essential for mental health and familial harmony. A toxic individual often thrives on manipulation, and I experienced this firsthand when an unexpected attempt at disownment from my in-laws presented itself as the final straw.

The aftermath of these decisions can be painful, and it often involves guilt and questioning one's choices. I’ve had run-ins with my mother-in-law since then, where guilt-tripping has been her primary tactic. Yet, I've learned to recognize these behaviors for what they are: tactics wielded by those who refuse to take accountability for their actions. As I reflect on my journey, I realize that choosing peace over ongoing toxicity has been one of the most empowering decisions I've ever made.

Self-Prioritization is Key

Choosing oneself in the context of relationships doesn't mean abandoning those we care about; it signifies recognizing that our wellbeing should be a priority. As I now know, if we do not put ourselves first, we render ourselves unable to offer genuine support and love to others.

“Take care to get what you like or you will be forced to like what you get.” – George Bernard Shaw

This quote resonates deeply with me, as it encapsulates the importance of making conscious choices in our relationships. True friendship and healthy relationships demand conscious effort—efforts characterized by honesty and accountability.

In conclusion, the world often confuses proximity with friendship, assuming that being related or having known someone for a long time mandates maintaining a relationship, regardless of its toxicity. However, we must learn to prioritize our own peace and mental health first. By cultivating relationships built on mutual affection and support, and actively choosing to step away from toxicity, we can forge deeper connections that enrich our lives rather than drain them. At the end of the day, I have learned that the only obligation I hold is to be unapologetically me, and that, above all, is true friendship and relationship defined.

Narcistic Abuse Poem Article Statistics: What You Need to Know

In July 2009, I found myself in Rockford, seeking support after being in a toxic and abusive relationship. At the time, I was struggling to come to terms with my experiences and the emotional toll it had taken on me. During this dark period in my life, I turned to writing as a means of coping and healing.

The poem I am sharing with you tonight was written during that time, as I grappled with my feelings of pain, fear, and despair. That I was when diagnosed with C-PTSD (Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder) - a condition that can develop after prolonged exposure to trauma, such as emotional or psychological abuse.

This poem is a raw and unfiltered expression of my emotions during that difficult time. It serves as a reminder of the healing power of poetry and the importance of seeking support during moments of darkness. I hope that by sharing my story, others who have experienced trauma may find solace in knowing that they are not alone.

Currently, there are only general estimates of how many people in the United States are in narcissistic relationships.

Sandra L. Brown, the founder of the Institute for Relational Harm Reduction and Public Pathology Education, wrote an article titled “60 Million Persons in the US Negatively Affected by Someone Else’s Pathology” that provides an estimate of the prevalence of this type of abuse.

In her article, Brown stated that about 1 in 25 people in the United States have some type of personality disorder, such as antisocial personality disorder.

At the time of her writing, Brown estimated the U.S. population to be about 304 million people. When divided by 25, that works out to over 12 million people who could have a personality disorder.

Based on these numbers, Brown estimates that if each of these people had approximately 5 partners or close relationships throughout their lifetime, over 60 million people might be affected by a narcissistic relationship.

Dear Lord, I Need Something to Believe In

Dear Lord, I stand here, holding a heart full of questions,
a canvas splashed with pain, love’s cruel rejections.
It’s a fragile faith I cling to, a thread pulled tight,
for every soul I cherish seems to vanish in the night.

Why does love dance like shadows,
a fleeting wisp in the breeze?
One moment, it blooms like spring,
the next, falls like autumn leaves.

I’ve tasted the bitterness of farewells,
I’ve learned the language of goodbyes,
men with their smooth words,
like honey, then sting like lies.

I whisper my hopes into the silence,
they flutter like butterflies of grace,
I dream of a partner, a co-pilot,
not just a fleeting face.

Someone to cradle my dreams,
to weave our futures, hand in hand,
to share in the laughter, the silence,
to build with me, together we’ll stand.

Dear Lord, will you guide me to him?
I’m weary and worn, but I still believe,
that somewhere beneath love’s shadow,
there’s a heart waiting, ready to cleave.

So grant me the patience, the strength to endure,
until fate leads me to the one,
I’ll keep my heart safe, a treasure secure,
for love, when it comes, will command the sun.

To the Father I Used to Know: An Open Letter to Healing

"The wound is the place where the Light enters you." - Rumi

This isn't the kind of letter you're likely bursting with excitement to read, Father. It's not a letter filled with joyful updates or eager pronouncements. Instead, it's a necessary excavation of the past, a difficult exploration of the hurt you inflicted on me, a child yearning for your love and guidance. This letter isn't intended to wound you but to heal the fragmented pieces of the inner child that continues to bear the weight of your absence and broken promises.

From a very young age, your expectations loomed large. Academic excellence was paramount – anything less than a B was unacceptable. My desire to express myself through chorus was met with the demand that I join band, further solidifying the idea that my desires were secondary to your preordained path. It wasn't until your second marriage that I experienced a sliver of freedom, a chance to be myself, but even that came with stringent conditions. My identity had to be confined within the rigid boundaries of heterosexuality and a specific racial preference for romantic partners. This seemingly small gesture of autonomy came at a steep and unimaginable price – the loss of my innocence.

Your focus shifted towards your new bride, leaving me adrift in a sea of confusion and loneliness. The guidance I desperately needed, the support that should have been a constant in my life, vanished. I was left to navigate the treacherous terrain of adolescence alone, relying solely on my own immature understanding of the world, the experiences of a child thrust into circumstances far beyond her grasp.

One devastating night, a single poor decision spiraled into a nightmare. Too intoxicated to consent, I became a victim of a violation that stole my sense of safety and security. The profound pain that followed forced me into a desperate search for solace, a misguided attempt to numb myself from the unrelenting trauma that replayed relentlessly in my mind. The emotional wounds festered, finding release in self-destructive behaviors that eventually became public.

My pain, once internalized, poured out, raw and unfiltered, met with the harsh judgment and cruelty of my peers. Accusations and questioning rained down like daggers, piercing my already vulnerable heart. There was no sympathy, no attempt to understand, just a torrent of condemnation. My desperate cry for help culminated in a night of suicide watch, a stark testament to the depth of my suffering. But instead of compassion, I faced accusations from you, suggesting that my pain was a ploy orchestrated by my mother to gain custody.

My mother, a woman who bore the unspoken burden of my trauma, never once questioned my integrity or my truth. Yet, you, the man who should have been my rock, met my vulnerability with suspicion and mistrust. The evidence of my suffering, the very essence of my shattered spirit, was dismissed and disregarded, ripped from me like a heart torn from its chest.

Following this, I was pushed to the periphery of your life, relegated to the edges of your existence. Eventually, I was abandoned, left with nothing but bags of discarded clothing, miles away from everything I had ever known, silenced and dismissed, denied the opportunity to even address the man I once looked to for guidance and protection.

Our connection dwindled to infrequent phone calls and sporadic visits. Yet, the distance remained, an invisible wall erected between us. You pushed me into the military, believing that a rigid structure would mold me into a woman worthy of your trust. But again, I was left alone in the darkness, carrying the weight of my trauma like a child clutching their most cherished toy. My desire to serve, to protect others from the horrors of war, ultimately fell short. The trauma proved too heavy a burden, its shadow obscuring the path toward my dreams. My honorable discharge should have been a moment of relief, a testament to my resilience, but its impact was muted. The validation I craved, the acknowledgment of my efforts, the sense that you were still proud of me, never quite materialized.

As the seasons changed, so did the years, but I was unaware that another storm was brewing. I encountered a new kind of predator, a narcissist who was calculated, vengeful, and relentless in their abuse. Like a fly ensnared in a spider's web, I was trapped, unable to escape, unable to be rescued, not even by the father I once knew and desperately needed.

This letter, Father, is not intended to inflict pain. It is a desperate attempt to explain the depth of the hurt you caused, to shed light on the shattered remnants of the child I never truly got to be. It's a plea for healing, a hope that through understanding, through the articulation of this long-buried pain, the little girl within me can finally find a measure of release, a fragile path towards wholeness.

The Scars That Remain: My Journey from Abuse to Healing

I've never shared my story in a platform like this before, so please bear with me in this long blog. Winter of 2009 was one of the worst moments in my life. Many people wonder why people stay in abusive relationships; my answer is you never know what it's like until you experience it first-hand. I firmly believe that out there in this world is someone who knows how to push those boundaries and manipulate you in ways you never imagined.

My story began innocently enough. February 2009 started out like any other month of the year when I started dating a man who appeared to be everything I wanted in a potential husband: charming, a great father, stable, and eager to be married. He seemed like the perfect picture of a partner. A couple of months into the relationship, he started expressing a desire for experiences outside the realm of our usual intimacy. Being naive and caught up in the whirlwind of new love, I agreed.

“The very essence of love is to give, not to receive.” – Kahlil Gibran

However, his sexual desires quickly escalated, becoming insatiable. He constantly promised that things would return to "normal" after we were married, then it would be a shift to focusing on religion and celibacy. This became a never-ending cycle, particularly while he was home from deployment. His words of love were often followed by criticisms: he didn't like my piercings, he wanted me to lose weight, get bigger breasts, and always look presentable. If I resisted these demands, his sexual needs became the focus once again. He once accused me of cheating, with absolutely no evidence, and unsurprisingly, his solution was to satisfy his own sexual desires to "make up" for this fabricated transgression.

These were empty promises from someone I had believed would love and protect me, someone I envisioned building a stable family with. A family I yearned for so deeply, a refuge from the instability of my childhood. Instead, he twisted my past traumas against me, turning them into a painful reality once more. He shared intimate photos, intended only for his eyes, with men who saw me as nothing more than a sexual object to exploit. What was once a promise of love and devotion became devoid of meaning. He allowed another man to have sex with me while I was too intoxicated to consent. And if that wasn't horrific enough, he anally raped me while I was asleep. When I woke up crying, he forced my head into the pillows to muffle my cries. He even choked me, so hard I almost lost consciousness. And yet, even through all of this, I couldn't bring myself to leave.

The abuse didn't stop when I finally summoned the courage to walk away. He accused my mother of breaking us up, attempting to sabotage her marriage and career. When I unfriended him on social media, he created new profiles, relentlessly pursuing me, even resorting to catfishing. He seized every opportunity to make my life unbearable, to inflict upon me the same misery he felt inside. He even threatened to kill himself.

When I finally severed all ties with him, I was sent to Rockford to prevent me from self-harm. It was there that I was diagnosed with Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD). After my release, I tried to numb the pain with partying, desperately searching for an escape from the clutches of this wicked man.

Fifteen years have passed since those horrifying events, and I still carry the scars. I live in constant fear of encountering him again, given that our towns are only 15 minutes apart. But despite the lingering fear, I've rebuilt my life. I'm happily married to a wonderful man, a husband of three years. We have a beautiful daughter, a constant source of joy and a reminder of the life I've fought so hard to create.

As my daughter grows, I teach her daily about body safety and consent. I want her to know her worth, to understand that her body is hers, and that no one has the right to violate her boundaries. My experience has taught me a profound lesson: never judge a book, a relationship, or a person by their cover.

I am not a victim. I am a survivor.

The Impact of Narcissistic Abuse:

My experience highlights a specific type of abuse, often linked to individuals with narcissistic personality traits. Narcissists are known for their excessive need for admiration, a sense of entitlement, and a lack of empathy. They expertly manipulate their partners, using charm and affection to gain control, often isolating them from friends and family. Their behavior can subtly escalate into abuse, both emotional and physical, creating a cycle of control and manipulation that can leave victims feeling confused, isolated, and questioning their own sanity.

It's crucial to remember that narcissistic abuse isn't always overtly violent. It can be incredibly insidious, and the effects can be devastating. The emotional manipulation, gaslighting, and constant criticism can erode a victim's self-esteem and confidence, leaving them feeling trapped and powerless.

Signs of Narcissistic Abuse:

If you're in a relationship with a narcissist, you may experience some of these warning signs:

• Constant criticism and belittling: Their words are designed to erode your confidence and self-worth.

• Gaslighting: They deny or twist events, making you doubt your own memory and perception.

• Control and manipulation: They try to dictate your thoughts, actions, and relationships.

• Lack of empathy: They struggle to understand or acknowledge your feelings.

• Emotional volatility: They can switch between extreme affection and rage quickly.

• Isolation: They may actively discourage your relationships with others.

Healing from Abuse:

Healing from abuse, particularly narcissistic abuse, is a long and challenging process. It requires immense courage, resilience, and support. Seeking professional help is essential. Therapists specializing in trauma can provide guidance, support, and tools to help you process your experiences, rebuild your self-esteem, and develop healthy coping mechanisms.

My journey has been far from easy, but I've found strength in sharing my story. It is my hope that by speaking out, I can help others recognize the signs of abuse, empower them to break free, and remind them that healing and recovery are possible. We are not alone in our struggles, and we deserve to live a life free from the shadows of the past.

Introduction

In a world overflowing with information and diverse perspectives, it often feels like the insights we hold—shaped by our unique experiences and knowledge—struggle to find their voice. Have you ever felt that tug, that urge to share wisdom, anecdotes, or simply the lessons learned through life’s trials and triumphs? I certainly have. This blog is my answer to that calling—a dedicated space where I can express my thoughts, explore my passions, and engage with others who share that same yearning for understanding and connection. Together, we’ll dive into the intricate realms of mental health, uncover valuable life tips, and share powerful stories of survival. Whether you’re a seasoned expert or just beginning your journey of exploration, I invite you to join me on this adventure. Let’s navigate the fascinating landscape of our minds and lives, fostering a community grounded in curiosity, empathy, and shared growth.