the pen is mightier than the sword... or the gun...

I have often wondered why certain individuals own weapons. It would take a very contained, controlled person to have a weapon and not use it in a volatile situation. That is why I do not own a gun... will never have a gun in my possession. There is fight... and flight... there are sticks and stones.... and then there is the fire from within. Anger, passion... fear... no I recognized in myself a long time ago I am one whom should never have a gun around... both for my own sake... and for those that may violate me.

But this is not about a gun... not about a knife... this is about my "pen"; my words. I have always been an introvert. I process... I analyze... I internalize... that doesn't mean I cannot become animated. It takes a lot to get me to that point. The point of no return, where words make no sense... memories flash as if reminding me why I am the way I am... My remedy since 2009 has been to self medicate with food... alcohol... instant replays over and over again... the loop I cannot escape... until it snaps. Then the silence... the calm... no waves... only water so still I am able to see my own reflection as clear as if I were looking at my doppelganger. I have often wondered; does she see me in the same way...

"Vunerability is about trust, intimacy and connection... we share with people who have earned the right to hear the story" - Brene' Brown

After a real tough week... one that brought me to my knees... I have come to realize the truth of Albert Einstein's definition of insanity, "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

... What is the definition of crazy? I look in the mirror... oh... there you are... again.... my reflection.... perhaps in an alernate universe she is having a better go of it... healthier... happier... wiser... I wonder if she thinks the same of me.... I also realize it has not been so crazy for me to try... my intentions set. my right or good intentions... set... my hope had been to realize through right action.... that my karma could be cleared. Yet, I have finally surrendered to the thought that things will ever be different. 

When I was young I thought if I could just be better... get better grades.. only speak when spoken to... it would deminish the often times pointed out diferences between me and other children. As I grew older I thought if I could only just be more perfect... I would be allowed to function at the dinner table and not be relagated to my bedroom... because at 13... I was much too old... my mother's suitors would somehow know how much older she was... than how much she was pretending to be. I would sit in my room quietly... writing my poems... editing my prose... drawing the intricate blueprints of the home I would one day build... far away from Arvada... far away from the isolation of that young girl alone with her thoughts... her words... her works of art.

I loved my isolation... I lived in my head... even when I was 5... in kindergarden I remembered living within my thoughts...  as one may write out plays... or books... the people I allowed in were ones I trusted... and they were usually only in my head. I learned how to become guarded from uncertainty. Trust was never forged by words... it was too easy to say one loved in the presence of others... only to experience actions so contrary in private. No, I would trust actions. Striking... physical violence cannot be undone. Sexual inappropriateness is never ok between a child and an adult. And just like rape is an expression of power, so is any infraction with a child.  Words unleashed in a fit of rage, drunkenness or passive agressiveness were too easily dismissed as unfortunate... yet they stung as if repeated slaps accross the face... or as I felt them... knives in my back. And the silence that comes with sexual abuse of a child can never be understood in terms of how it shatters one's Soul. 

At 16 I left home... determined to isolate the past. In my long term goal I wanted to become a lawyer... an advocate for children. In the mean time I had plotted out my path... a double degree in psychology and criminal justice... then to law school. Unfortunately six months prior to completion of my studies... I let my guard down and was raped. Even in the people who purport to be adovates for children... there is a darkness where power seeks out the weak. I learned the hard way. 


The more I tried... the more fragile I have become... the more armor I surrounded myself with... when I was younger my experiences lent me to believe in no do-overs... no second chances... if there were a fracture... I was done with it... relationships came and went... then as I aged... I thought I could make ammends.... be a better person if only I tried... again.... to be more perfect... became more understanding.... more giving a better listener... take responsibility for my sins... achnowledge when i missed the mark.... and in the jumbled nureons that make up the errant brain activity bouncing in my head.... I have finally realized that in order for me to contain my own sanity... in order for me to de-armor... it is ok to let go.... to move beyond... release.... it is like a death.... that has not entirely played out yet... and i have felt a release and freedom.... a lifting... a peace over comes me (peace be with you... and also with you - echos in my mind rom past services at catholic churches.)... as I realize I am.. no longer bound... I am the one that thought I was tethered,,, perhaps true freedom came when I was able to realize... I could release myself.

yes, I can be recognized by those I trust ... to be who I am.... what a  gift to know there are those in this world who see me for who I am... not who you think I should be ... I had almost disappeared ... within the confines of self doubt. Perhaps... tomorrow is another day... to day to begin again.... as I release myself from my own karmic restraints.... throw light on the shadows that dance off the walls of my Soul... and lift myself up off the ground.... it is not too late....