Stalling

Wow! It's been a month since I posted last. It's the Christmas season and I've been busy. But I'm also stalling. The only things left to tell are the SECRETS. I'm embarrassed. I'm mortified. I'm not sure I'm going to be able to do this.

Secrets take you prisoner, you know? They make you project a false self to the world. Everyone thinks you're pretty normal - but they don't know the REAL you. And if they did - what would they think?

The bad part is, I hide behind that false self because it's easier than confronting my REAL fears and emotions. The REAL me is fighting to come out. I think she's going to end up winning - but she's in for a pretty good fight!

Protecting Secrets

In the beginning I had one secret. But it seems like that secret lead to another one and then that one lead to another. It's hard work protecting all your secrets - knowing that if just one comes out, everything will come unraveled.

There are just things I don't really want people to know about me. I feel embarrassed and ashamed. (So here I am blogging about it to the world - but I haven't really shared with anybody I know that I'm keeping this blog.)

It was not my fault that I was molested. I can not help how it affected me. I was 10. I was confused. I was scared. And I didn't go to my parents for help. I couldn't see then how it was affecting me and in fact it was only a few years ago that I began to understand the effects it had on me. I wish I had gotten help sooner because the problem just kept getting worse.

It has taken me a long time but I have finally learned that I can't 'wish' problems away or even 'pray' them away. I have to be willing to do some work to resolve them. I can't resolve them unless I meet them head on. I have to rise above my fears and my embarrassment and I have to 'trust' that God has placed people in my path to help me through. HE has taken care of me all this time and now I feel Him telling me that THIS is the time to step out of my comfort zone and get serious about healing. He will be there for me. He will get me through the fear. He will help me overcome the embarrassment and shame I feel. He will bring healing to my life and to my marriage and to my family. (We are not broken. But we could be stronger.)

The day I talked with Father D, he said to me (something to the effect) "I'm convinced that the time is right. I am convinced that you are ready to heal." He might be right but....

....I'm scared. I'm really scared. I'm scared to let go of all the secrets.

Practicing

A couple of days ago I was in Target. I suddenly became aware that, like usual, I was walking fast - looking straight ahead. Something else I noted. My body felt tense. I stopped for a second and collected myself.

Took a deep breath and talked to myself.

"Slow down. Relax. Walk slow. RELAX. Look around. See anyone, you know? Walk slow."

It was hard work - trying to walk slow and stay relaxed! And then I couldn't remember what I was shopping for!!

I never did see anyone I knew! Go Figure!! -_-

7th Grade

I walk fast. I walk with a sense of purpose. I walk to get from point A to point B. I walk with my head down or my eyes focused straight ahead. Secretly, I hope that I don't see anybody I know. What will I say if I do? I think I started walking that way in about the 7th grade. This is how I remember it.

After I was molested in the 5th grade, I started questioning whether or not I could trust my feelings and instincts. It's a very scary thing not to be able to trust your instincts. I wasn't totally sure I COULDN'T, but I wasn't totally sure I COULD, either. I was still trying to figure it out when 7th grade happened.

7th grade. We were 12 and 13 years old. I came back to school after summer break and something had happened. People in my class were different. Suddenly there was a big emphasis on boy/girl relationships. Hand holding, making out, going steady. It seemed to me at the time that EVERYBODY had paired off or was wanting to pair off. I wasn't there yet. I was NOT interested in holding anybody's hand or kissing any boy on the lips.

As an adult, I can look back and understand that all children mature at different times. Very likely, I just wasn't there yet and wouldn't have been there even if I hadn't been molested. But I was 12 then and didn't have the benefit of an adult thought process. In my mind, this was just verification. I DIDN'T KNOW HOW I WAS SUPPOSED TO FEEL. In my mind, if other 12 year olds were feeling this way, then I should also be feeling this way. Something is definitely wrong with me. I really DON'T know how to feel. I can't trust myself to feel the way I'm supposed to. Something is wrong. I didn't like it when HE touched me. It was supposed to feel good. I was supposed to like it. Yes, something was definitely wrong with me.

I couldn't let anybody know how I felt. I had to keep these feelings a secret. I didn't want anybody to know how weird I was. I lost all confidence in myself.

I remember walking down the sidewalk as a 7th grader and in the distance I would see one of my classmates walking toward me. I am weird. They won't want to talk to me. This would be someone who I had gone to school with for 7 years. Someone who had never spoken an unkind word to me. But for some reason, in my mind, I didn't think they'd want to bother to even speak to me. I'd look down - or around - or straight ahead - but I would NOT make eye contact with them when we passed. I wanted them to think I didn't SEE them. It's not rude to not speak if you don't see someone. But always - always - the other person would speak as we got close. It was not other classmates who made me feel bad about myself. I was not teased or ridiculed by them. I projected all these negative feelings on myself.

By the time I got to high school, I was like a fish out of water. It's hard to make friends when you can't even trust that it's okay to say hi to someone. Thankfully, a couple of people reached out to ME - and I was able to respond to their kindness. The friendships I developed were few - but they were true and good. I was blessed.

Finding Peace

He's dead. How is that supposed to make me feel?

When the detective first told me, I felt a small twinge of disappointment. I actually felt disappointed that I wouldn't see him held accountable. I didn't really expect to feel that way. But it was just a small disappointment. I got over it quickly.

Then, when I learned he still lived in town all these years, I felt threatened. Just for a split second though - until I remembered he was dead. That feeling surprised me too. I don't have a conscious memory of being afraid - except that I do remember that I didn't want to be in the car alone with him. I DO remember wishing that he would take ME home first. But he took Patsy home first. That's all I remember. I remember her getting out of the car at her house. And I remember pulling into the driveway at my house. I don't remember a thing about the ride home though. What did we talk about, I wonder.

But now, he's dead. I sit in church with his obituary in my hand and as I read it something happens. He was a son. His parents, who predeceased him, were both professors at a local university. He was a brother. His sisters live out of town. His brother still lives in town. He was an uncle. He wasn't survived or predeceased by a wife or children. His interests included European travel, German culture - and landscaping. No mention of him being a child molester. Not that THAT surprises me.

But it makes me wonder....What happened to him growing up? Was HE molested as a child? Was it his father? Uncle? Brother? Teacher? Did he tell? Did he keep it a secret? There was no wife, no children. Was he gay? That wouldn't have been accepted in those days. Maybe he was struggling with his sexuality trying to figure it out himself. Who knows WHAT he was thinking or WHY he did what he did. I don't think I'll ever know this side of heaven.

But I'm in church. I'm here because God is the only one who can give me answers. And He does - kind of.

Mr. K- was God's child too. He struggled with something. Doesn't matter what, but he struggled. He made poor choices. But he was God's child and God loved him. I am also God's child. And as His child, He calls me to be forgiving. He asks me not to judge. He asks me to trust Him. And I know deep in my heart that in God - justice and mercy meet. God may have had mercy on Mr. K - and I'm okay with that - because I also know that God cares about me too. God will not show mercy at the expense of justice. That's where Purgatory comes in. I believe that Mr. K- is experiencing a cleansing of his soul. And when God allows him full entrance into heaven, justice will have been served. I trust God on that. I don't have to worry about it.

Mr. K- is dead. He can't hurt me anymore. Wherever he is, I feel he understands now the pain that he caused. I feel he's sorry. And I forgive him. I have to. It's the only way to put it behind me. It's the only way to move forward. I still have a lot of healing to do. But I don't feel angry with him anymore. I write him a letter.

Dear Mr. K-

I wonder....

What was it like for you - the moment you passed from your earthly life into the very presence of God?

When you were standing there - surrounded by His love, ready to review your life?

Did you think you had resolved everything? Did you think you were ready?

Did you remember what you had done to me all those years ago? Or, had you forgotten?

Did you think God had forgotten? Were you surprised that He hadn't?

Did you feel ashamed? Did you feel sorry?

Did you cry?

Did you care? (I think you did.)

Did God forgive you?

I think He did.



And then, I whisper a little prayer for him. Rest in peace, Mr. K. I forgive you. But wherever you are - I hope you are praying for me also. Because I still need to heal. I have a lot of work to do. Amen

Threatened

The detective says the man died in 2006. Gave me his full name. I found his obit online. Yep! It's him. 63 years old. That's right. Has his picture and everything.

WHAT??? He's lived in town all these years?? For some reason, I THOUGHT he left town! Where did I get that idea? Was it something I told myself as a little girl to make myself feel safe? Maybe. Because suddenly I feel threatened. But I don't need to feel threatened. He's dead. Have I felt threatened all these years? I didn't realize I did. (Probably because I thought he was far away from me.) So maybe that IS why I've been screaming in my sleep since I was a little kid. I never could remember the dream. I wake up the whole house and then can't even remember what is so horrible to make me scream like that! Will I ever remember the dream? Now that I know he's dead will I stop screaming? Hope so! It's a little embarrassing!

Should I Report It?

It was so long ago. 40 years. Is it right to go back on a man 40 years after the fact?

I don't know anything about him anymore. I know his last name but not his first.

He never came back to school after that day. We finished the year with a different teacher. Why didn't he come back? Did he realize he shouldn't be around kids and so he removed himself from a tempting situation? Did he ever molest again?

Was this just a momentary indiscretion on the part of a young man - a first year teacher if memory serves me correctly?

Maybe he's changed and has lived a perfectly respectable life since that time.

Maybe he hasn't. Maybe he's continued to molest kids. Maybe he's still a threat.

And then I remember. HE manipulated me into getting into that car. He KNEW I trusted him. He KNEW my mom trusted him. I SAID NO! I TRIED TO HOLD MY SKIRT DOWN. This was not a momentary indiscretion. This was a deliberate act - planned ahead of time and carried through. Odds were - this wasn't the first time and it probably wasn't the last time. If he is still alive, he could still be a threat to other children. Reporting it is the right thing to do.

It's the right thing to do for any child who might have the misfortune of crossing his path. It's the right thing to do for HIM. He needs to be given the opportunity to accept responsibility. It's the right thing to do for ME.

Sorry, Mr. K- I'm not trying to hurt you but I HAVE to do this. I won't have any peace if I don't. Maybe nothing will come from it. Maybe they won't be able to find you. And even though Patsy witnessed what you did - maybe she won't remember it. Maybe it will be my word against yours. Maybe you're not even alive. Maybe you are. Maybe you'll go to jail. A whole lot of maybes. I need some answers. And anyway, I've dealt with this for 40 years now. If you're alive out there somewhere - then you're going to have to start dealing with it too.

I AM going to report it. (As soon as I find the courage!)

Acknowledging Sexual Abuse

I was reading a book by Wendy Maltz titled 'A Sexual Healing Journey.' In chapter 2 of that book, she lists 4 criteria to help a person determine if they had been sexually abused. A YES answer to any of them could indicate sexual abuse. I answered YES to all 4. They are as follows.

WERE YOU UNABLE TO GIVE YOUR FULL CONSENT? I was 10. Even if I HAD said yes, I was too young to fully understand and give consent. But the fact is - I SAID NO! So, YES, I was unable to give my full consent.

DID THE INCIDENT INVOLVE A BETRAYAL OF TRUST? YES, it did. He was my teacher. He was supposed to be looking out for me. I trusted him. He manipulated me into getting into that car with him.

DID IT INVOLVE HAVING YOUR PERSON OVERPOWERED? Yes, it did. I not only said 'no', I put my hands on my lap to hold my skirt down. HE pulled my hands away and held them back.

DID I FEEL ABUSED? Yes, I did. I didn't understand what happened. I felt embarrassed and ashamed - but didn't have a vocabulary at the time to explain that.

I WAS MOST DEFINITELY SEXUALLY MOLESTED.

Counseling

Counseling is hard work. No wonder I put it off for so long!

I don't like not being able to fix my own problems.

I don't like crying in front of other people. It makes me feel vulnerable. I don't like admitting that this incident has caused me years of anguish and pain.

For years, I didn't deal with how I actually felt. As a matter of fact, I tried to deny to myself how I actually felt. I told myself that he didn't physically hurt me - so he didn't hurt me at all. Then when I finally figured out that it DID hurt me, I reasoned that I should just get over it. It wasn't that big of a deal. After all, I'm an adult now. I can look at it from a whole different perspective. As an adult, I can look at the situation and understand that HE was wrong to touch me. MY feelings and instincts were right all along. I said NO! I tried to stop it from happening. HE didn't listen. HE forced himself. All of this is true - but it didn't automatically give me my confidence back.

By trying to deal with how I WISHED I felt - or how I thought I SHOULD have felt - I just masked the problem of how I DID feel.

I have been given the opportunity to try to heal through counseling. I have made a decision to be as honest as I possibly can about my true feelings. No matter how embarrassed I am, I know she will not be able to help me if I am not honest - with myself and with her. So no matter how hard it is to share - I have to trust her. And if I have to cry, then I just have to cry!

Counseling is not easy. It is NOT for the weak.

Confidence

A couple of things occur to me as I review my teenage and young adult years.

When I was a teenager, I played softball for my church team. It happens that I was a talented softball player - and whenever I was on the softball field I was a different person because I was confident in my ability to play the game. My confidence was fed of course by the people around me who noticed and complimented my talents - my coaches, teammates, other parents, even other coaches from opposing teams would compliment me. It felt good to feel important as a person. I felt FREE. I played as often as I could on a couple of different teams.

I experienced that same sense of confidence when I went to work after graduation from high school. I was a quick learner and a hard worker. I was willing to put in as many hours as needed to get the job done. I quickly became the 'go to' person in the office when extra help was needed by the owners and managers.

For whatever reason, that confidence never spilled over into my personal life - it always stayed contained to specific situations. But since my work took up a big chunk of my day, I guess it was just what I needed to keep me going.

It occurs to me now, that I do well with encouragement. If somebody else shows a little faith in me, I can usually respond. But I seem to need that little nudge, that little boost of confidence.

Poem - When You're Twenty

This is the last poem I have a record of. This was a time of transition in my life. I had graduated from high school and didn't go to college. I had found a job working in an office for a flooring company. I think by this time, I had lost all hope that I would one day be the person I was created to be. I was probably experiencing depression - but I don't think we knew a lot about depression in those days.

WHEN YOU'RE TWENTY

....sometimes, it's hard to get up in the morning
to say hello to a new day -
When you know it won't be any different than the day before.

When on the outside,
You go through the motions of living
A perfectly happy life,
While on the inside, you're struggling,
Deep within yourself, to find out
Who you are and keep your sanity.

When on the outside,
You try to make people think you're happy
But on the inside, you're crying,
Hoping someone will realize you're not.

It's hard to accept the fact that you're all alone.

That your friends don't really know you
And you're family can't figure you out.

But what's even harder to accept,
Is that you don't even know yourself -
And wonder if you ever will - because
You know you can't go on like this.

Sometimes, I think I'll be twenty forever....

But I wonder how long forever can last.

Poems- Searching/ Laughing, Crying

I was still writing in my late teens. Obviously still trying to heal. I think I was beginning to lose hope that things would eventually be better. It sounds like I may have been trying to accept that I was never going to change. Of particular note in the poem 'SEARCHING' I notice that I didn't capitalize the 'I'. Wonder what that says about my state of mind?

SEARCHING

What am i?
Who am i?
Where am i?
Why am i?

Today, tomorrow, yesterday
Living -
Torn between the right way,
the wrong way,
Searching for my own way
before I die.

LAUGHING, CRYING, LIVING, DYING

19 years of life,
Searching everyday
Laughing, Crying, Living, Dying
Trying to find a way.

I guess there are no answers,
Whatever will be, will be.
Living in a world of people,
TRYING TO BE FREE.

Poem - One More Dream

I don't remember counseling being a popular option in the 1970's. I didn't know how to help myself. I thought I could change who I was by the sheer power of my will. Of course, life doesn't usually work that way - as this poem expresses.

ONE MORE DREAM

Yesterday, I use to have a dream,
It filled an empty space faraway.
But now, it's forgotten and here I am,
With an empty space to fill once again.

Yesterday, I could hardly wait for today.
And now, I'm just disappointed in the way
My dream was smothered in doubts and fears
And lost in my mind over wasted years,
I spent dreaming about today.

And is that what dreams are all about -
To dream them up, then throw them out??

Now, I have a dream - still so far away.
And sometimes, I feel like giving it up,
But something inside won't let it go
And sometimes it seems so impossible.

But if one more dream withers and dies,
If one more dream doesn't realize -
Then who am I?
And what's tomorrow, but another day -
To be lost in dreams, I'll throw away?

Poem - Untitled

I didn't title this poem. I'm not sure why not. As with most of these poems, I don't even remember writing them specifically! But once again, there is an underlying spirit of hope.

ON THE OUTSIDE,
I'M A COLD, UNFRIENDLY, BORING PERSON.

YOU DON'T LIKE ME..
I DON'T EITHER.

ON THE INSIDE,
I'M REALLY QUITE DIFFERENT.
I CARE, I LOVE,
AND I WANT TO BE YOUR FRIEND.

I'M TRYING HARD TO SHOW MY FEELINGS,
BUT FOR SOME REASON, IT'S HARD FOR ME.
BE PATIENT MY FRIEND,
SOMEDAY, I'LL BE AS BRIGHT AS YOU.

Poem - A Prayer

I want to include this poem because I think it shows a faith well formed for such a young person. I seem to have had a clear understanding that God had created me for a specific purpose. I think I somehow knew that something was blocking me from fulfilling that purpose. I find it interesting that included in this poem is the line 'let this be my prayer till I die.' Until a few days ago, I didn't even remember writing this poem - but I still pray every day that God will teach me to love as He loves, to give of myself, to find the goodness in others, and to forgive. God is faithful.

A PRAYER

Our Father, Who Art in Heaven,

Let this be my prayer till I die.

Teach me to love as you love, care as you care,
To give of myself all that I can give.
To find the goodness in others, not badness.
Teach me to forgive as easily as you forgive.

To use the precious gift you have given me
So that others may understand themselves better
And their lives will not be wasted.

So that nations will understand each other better
And thousands of lives will not be wasted.

Teach me to use the gift you have given me,
So that my life will not be wasted.

Help me Lord and stay by my side
For my living has only begun.

And I will feed your hungry,

And clothe your poor

And spread your name and all that is right.

I want to share my wealth with everyone.
Not only material possessions, but also the richness of laughter, love and peace.

I love and trust in You, for You are my Father
And thank you, Father for letting me live!

Amen

Poem - Dreaming

Here is another poem that expresses confidence that a better day is coming.

DREAMING

Sometimes, I wonder, where I'll go,
Who I'll be five years from now
And all the time still I know.
I'll get somewhere, someday, somehow.

I want to stand on a mountain top
And ski down it's loft slope.
And fly like an eagle, high in the sky
And touch the heavenly cope.

I want to write a happy song
For people to sing together
I want to see the whole world smile
And the happiness last forever.

I want to help the blind to see,
the mute speak, the deaf to hear.
I want to feed the hungry and
And fill their hearts with cheer.

I have so many hopes and dreams
I think I'll start today
To fill each one to its extreme -
I KNOW I'LL FIND A WAY.

Poem - Prisoner

Here is another poem in which I likened myself to a prisoner and expressed the desire to be free.

PRISONER

Locked up inside myself,
I look at the world around me.

I see.....
cars, trains, jets, lights, buildings,
signs, machines, money and people,
all rushing by - so fast, I can't see.

I hear....
horns, whistles, bells, motors, sirens, alarms, shouts, screams, coughs & voices
all talking - so loud, I can't hear.

I feel...
so lost and frightened, smothered, defeated, unimportant and uncounted.

Where are the mountains and trees, the rivers and oceans and fields and prairies?

Where do I listen to hear the roar of the sea, the wind and the birds and to hear myself think?

In a world of mass confusion..
Where do I fit in?

I WANT TO BE FREE!

Poem - Alive

I have to laugh at this poem. It almost sounds like a threat! Do I detect something of a fighting spirit deep within??

ALIVE

I AM ALIVE!

RECOGNIZE ME-

THE SHY LITTLE GIRL YOU SHUN!

SOMEDAY, YOU'LL SEE -

SOMEDAY, I'LL BE.

AND YOU'LL ACCEPT ME THEN!

Poem - It's Good to Know Somebody Cares

Obviously, God drew close to me. I felt His presence. Though I never heard His voice, He somehow assured me that everything would be okay.

IT'S GOOD TO KNOW SOMEBODY CARES

Times when I'm troubled, I always turn to you,
'Cause I know you'll be there to see me through,
To pick me up whenever I fall,
To answer me whenever I call.

And sometimes, I just don't understand
Why you stick around,
When after all the countless times
I've seemed to let you down.
But whenever I need you, you're always there,

And it's good to know somebody cares
When everything seems to be going wrong.

Whenever I feel lonely and scared,
I just whisper your name and I know you're there.
Though I can't see your eyes and your voice is silent,
Somehow, I can just feel you smiling,
And I know everything is going to be alright.

And I just don't think I could make it,
If you weren't by my side.
So, I'm asking you, Lord, to stay nearby.
And if I hurt you along the way,
I can only say 'I'm sorry'
And make it up somehow,
And I want to do something to make you proud
Because I love you and you're always there,

And it's good to know somebody cares,
When everything seems to be going wrong.

Poem - Shining Bright

This poem expresses my desire to put the past behind me and step confidently into the future. In fact, I seem to be expressing confidence that it WILL happen. I think that is called HOPE.

SHINING BRIGHT

Look, I'm a bird
Flying high in the sky!!
I'm FREE as the wind,
The clouds pass me by.
My feathers are light
And troubles are few,
The sky is gray and still it's blue.

Look,I'm a boat
Sailing the seas!
Over the tides,
Like a dolphin, I'm free.
Through the channels,
Into the bay,
Trouble just get out of my way.

'Cause my life is short and you're no friend
You're nothing but trouble and you can't come in.
No sense knocking at my door,
I've had enough, I won't take anymore.

I've taken wings and flown away
And finally I've found a better day.
Each hour is better than the last
AND YOU'RE JUST AN EXPERIENCE FROM THE PAST.

Give me a dime, and I'll sail to Spain
Tomorrow, I'll come back again.
And if you're there, you'll have to leave
Because I haven't time to sit and grieve.

See, I'm a star, shining my light
Among thousands lost, I'm glowing bright.
And one thing I know
There ain't no doubt
I'll shine bright 'till I'm all shined out!!

So look out trouble, get out of my way!
I've finally found a better day.
Life is short and you're no friend.
No sense knocking, you can't come in.

Poetry

Reading through the poems I wrote as a teenager I can see that the underlying theme of many of them was the desire to 'break free.' In some of them it appears I was feeling just overwhelmingly sad - but in others I detect a spirit of hope rising up and trying to take over. Some of these poems also express the FAITH that obviously gave birth to the hope I was feeling. Thanks be to God - who did not abandon me when I needed Him most, but silently drew close to the child who couldn't trust her inner most thoughts and feelings to anyone else. I have time to type today so think I will include these poems in my blog as separate entries.

Prisoner

This is a poem I wrote as a teenage girl. Reading it now I can see I was expressing my desire to feel free to express myself - to confidently share my thoughts and views of people and the world around me. At that point in my life, I had become confused and afraid that I couldn't trust my instincts and feelings. I was afraid of saying something inappropriate or offensive - or just down right stupid. In most situations I chose to avoid expressing myself at all. I still experience this confusion with certain people and in certain situations. Only now - I think I am beginning to learn how to break the chains. Here is my poem.

IT'S HARD BEING A PRISONER

It's hard being a prisoner, seeing life pass you by.
It's hard breaking out, when the cell is in your mind.
It's hard finding tomorrow, hanging on to yesterday,
It's hard linking the pieces, when you can't break the chains.

Years ago, I built a prison
And housed it in my mind.
Convicted myself of worthlessness
And locked myself inside.
I watched the world revolve
And my friends all slip away
I lived alone with emptiness
And bound myself with chains.
And now I try to leave my cell
But it's hard hanging on to the key -
It's hard being the person
Nobody has ever seen.

And it's hard being a prisoner, seeing life pass you by.
It's hard breaking out, when the cell is in your mind.
it's hard finding tomorrow, hanging on to yesterday.
It's hard linking the pieces, when you can't break the chains.

There's dreams I want to build on,
And songs I want to write.
There's stories I want to tell the world
And candles I want to light.
There's faces I'd like to meet
And places I'd like to go,
But it's hard chasing dreams,
You think you could never know.

And it's hard being a prisoner, seeing life pass you by.
It's hard breaking out, when the cell is in your mind.
It's hard finding tomorrow, hanging on to yesterday
It's hard linking the pieces, when you can't break the chains.

The Teenage Girl

Today I remember a teenage girl....

who was very shy

and very lonely.

Who had few friends - (but the friends she had were the best.)

She could talk with them and laugh with them

She could share things with them - some things that is - not EVERYTHING.

She lacked the confidence to express herself - except in her poems.

She wrote lot's of poems - some expressed loneliness, others frustration but most expressed hope and a faith well formed for one so young.

Crying

Yesterday after blogging I attempted to shift gears and move on with the rest of the day. A few games of Free Cell ought to do it.

But in the middle of about the 2nd or 3rd game, I suddenly felt I was going to cry. I didn't want to. I was at home. My family was at home - sleeping - but they were home. I didn't want somebody to wake up and see my crying. I tried to change my thoughts, but it didn't work. Tears started leaking anyway.

I went into the bathroom, closed and locked the door and let go. I don't remember the last time I cried like that. The sobs came from deep down. I felt like a little girl.

I felt restless the rest of the day. Had to stay busy or I'd start crying again.

I tried to knit. That usually relaxes me. But knitting doesn't take enough concentration for me. Before I knew it, I felt tears coming again.

Finally, I decided to clean out and organize the cabinet under the bathroom sink. I pulled everything out, threw a bunch of stuff away, went to Target and picked up a few clear, plastic shoeboxes and started organizing.

Then I tackled the foyer closet. I can't believe the things I found in there. I filled a trash bag and a bag for DAV.

It occurs to me that's what I'm trying to do with my life right now - go through everything, decide what's worth keeping, what's worth sharing and what I need to get rid of - the junk that's been accumulating over the years.

Cabinets and closets are a lot easier and quicker to sort through!! :)

The Little Girl Confused

Today, my heart breaks as I remember a little girl....

Who had the courage to say 'no'...

But lacked the physical strength to keep it from happening..

Who didn't understand...

And couldn't explain.

a little girl who began to carry a SECRET inside her...

Because she thought what happened was so bad she couldn't share - least of all with her parents

She wanted to cry but she couldn't - the SECRET might come out.

Sometimes at night while she slept, the little girl would scream -

(But she never remembered the dream so the secret never came out.)

I remember a little girl who suddenly wasn't so sure anymore about the world she lived in.....

And was confused about how she was supposed to feel

It 'FELT' like something 'BAD' had happened...

But What? It didn't hurt!

So maybe it WASN'T bad.

But if it WAS bad - it must be her fault. Because teachers and parents didn't do bad things. Only kids did.

MAYBE her feelings didn't work right, MAYBE she couldn't trust them -

And so she didn't.

She began to spend a lot of time by herself, she talked very little and became very shy...

Her friends didn't understand and little by little drifted away.

But she made one very good friend - a life long friend

Who she could laugh with...

and cry with......

and share secrets with.....

well, not THE SECRET....

She could not share that.

The Little Girl Who Was

Today, I remember with joy a little girl -

Who wore cut off jeans and over-sized T-shirts...

Who rode her bike as fast as she could pedal...

Who splashed in puddles...

Who played mumbly peg with her neighborhood friends and Red Rover, Red Rover at recess...

Who climbed trees as high as she could go..

Who was happy and friendly - and probably a little too full of herself

Who felt safe and trusted everyone - even teachers.

Today, I remember the little girl who was.