A Friday Moment

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A Friday ritual. A single photo — no words — capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

“This Moment” is a ritual found on Life inspired by the Wee Man adopted from SouleMama which was introduced to others by Sarah-Jane, of Almost There.

I was asked to participate in this by Anna Sides, of The Other Side of Anna and the other great blogging members of the Facebook group Blogplicity.

If you find yourself touched by a moment and would like to participate, post your picture on a Friday and leave your link in the comments section.

Copyrighted: InjensMind

#BlogTagYouAreIt ‘Sometimes I Wish…’

One of the blogging groups I am in is having a blog hop, we are calling it “Blog Tag…You’re It.” For those of you who don’t know what a blog hop is, let me explain. It is several different bloggers blogging on their own blog all about the same topic but done in their own unique ways. Phew! Say that 3 times fast. LOL This specific hop will feature 28 bloggers from around the globe. The essence of what World Wide Web stands for if you ask me. We each will have our own day to post about the topic ‘Sometimes I Wish…’ During this time, one blogger thanks the previous blogger for the introduction to their post and then writes a mini introduction for the blogger who follows them.

So here goes…

A very big thank you to Brenda, who writes at Passionate Pusuits. It’s been a pleasure getting to know you and sharing the  blogosphere world with you. Here’s to many more blog hops, posts, and getting to know a variety of bloggers inside and outside the group. You can click here to see her blog hop post on this subject.

Now for the introduction I am to give for our next blogger in line:

Say hello to Sili, who writes at My Mamihood. She writes about her life and the non-stop misadventures of her “Frog Princess”, which is the adorable nickname she uses for her young daughter.

Please take some time (after finishing my post of course) to visit both of these ladies.

Sometimes I Wish…

For somebody, aka me, to publicly acknowledge my wishes, I would first have to believe in them. But, I don’t believe in wishes or wishing for that matter. However, I did…once; a very long time ago when I was an impressionable youngster, back before I knew any better, back before the reality of what my life was hit me like a ton of bricks. It was during a time when wishes and dreams were what young children would thrive on, that is, until they realized either as teenagers or adults that wishes just don’t come true, no matter how much you wish on them or pray for them, beg, scream, plead, cry, or fuss about them, no matter how many times the people at Disney tell you they do… They just don’t come true!

I was approximately 5-years-old when I would lay in bed and stare at the night sky, wishing on the bright stars that illuminated my room. I was just as much a raging insomniac back then as I am now. (No doubt due to the volatile lifestyle I lived from a super-young age.) I even tossed several wishes to the man in the moon for good measure, then patiently awaited the entire night for somebody/anybody to magically swoop in and rescue me. I have yet to stop staring at the night sky (or learned how to fall asleep when the rest of the world does) but, I have stopped sending wishes out there, and I have most certainly stopped waiting for someone to ride in on their white horse and rescue me.

  • I wish my daddy and mommy didn’t fight so much.
  • I wish my daddy loved me.
  • I wish that “they” hadn’t touched me like that.
  • I wish those touching’s would stop happening.
  • I wish I could stay out of the principal’s office for fighting.
  • I wish people would just leave me alone.
  • I wish people would stop touching me. Why do they keep touching me?
  • I wish my mommy would come and pick me up more often.
  • I wish I could play outside with the other kids and not have to be in bed while the sun is still out.
  • I wish I didn’t have to sit in the corner so long every day.
  • I wish my step-mom loved me.
  • I wish I wasn’t hated so much by my daddy and step-mom.
  • I wish my mommy hadn’t moved so far away. Does she hate me now too?
  • I wish I didn’t have to sit behind furniture when we visited with family and friends.
  • I wish I could play with my cousins.
  • I wish my grandma didn’t get drunk and push my grandfather into the bookcase.
  • I wish my daddy didn’t get drunk and pass out in the truck.
  • I wish I didn’t know about alcoholism and its effects.
  • I wish my step-mom didn’t take out her insecurities about my mommy on me.
  • I wish my daddy would stop talking bad about my mommy.
  • I wish my step-mom didn’t talk badly about my mommy.
  • I wish I wasn’t talked about badly to my face.
  • I wish I could be loved like my little sister.
  • I wish my daddy didn’t move us so far away when my mommy moved back to town.
  • I wish I could see my baby brother every day.
  • I wish I didn’t have to see a school counselor for “my problems.”
  • I wish my step-mom didn’t take away things my mommy and grandma bought for me.
  • I wish I didn’t cry so hard every time I came back home to my daddy’s house.
  • I wish I didn’t get punished for vomiting after I cried so hard.
  • I wish I didn’t know what soap tastes like.
  • I wish my daddy and step-mom didn’t use a thick wooden paddle with holes drilled in it on me.
  • I wish I could sit down.
  • I wish I didn’t have to show the friend of the court my butt and all the still purple welts that hadn’t yet gone away after several weeks.
  • I wish somebody would help me.
  • I wish somebody would listen.
  • I wish the counselor would stop asking other types of social workers, guidance people, therapists, and groups to talk to me. Every time they give me a card or tell me how my life should be I am punished more severely.
  • I wish my school counselor didn’t call my step-mom and tell her everything I had confided in her.
  • I wish I didn’t get punished so much.
  • I wish I could go to friends’ houses and not always be grounded.
  • I wish I had friends who I could talk to.
  • I wish my “big sisters” in the sister program would do more with me.
  • I wish my “big sister” didn’t move away.
  • I wish I didn’t cry myself to sleep every night.
  • I wish I could fall asleep.
  • I wish I could stay asleep.
  • I wish I didn’t hear and see things in the dark.
  • I wish I wasn’t called crazy for seeing dead people.
  • I wish my step-mom didn’t force me to stand in a red ant hill while she yelled at me.
  • I wish the pain would go away.
  • I wish my grandfather who protected me as best as he could didn’t die.
  • I wish I died.
  • I wish I didn’t know what pain is.
  • I wish I didn’t bleed all over my clothes.
  • I wish my belongings didn’t get take away.
  • I wish someone would stand up for me.
  • I wish someone would save me.
  • I wish my sister would stop doing things that I get punished for.
  • I wish I didn’t have to come home.
  • I wish I didn’t go to school.
  • I wish I didn’t live in a small town.
  • I wish people would understand me.
  • I wish they’d all stop making fun of me.
  • I wish I could have long hair.
  • I wish I could wear new girl’s clothes.
  • I wish I wasn’t such a disappointment.
  • I wish I knew what I did wrong.
  • I wish I knew why I was born.
  • I wish I were never born.
  • I wish my mommy would come and pick us up on her weeks.
  • I wish my daddy didn’t tell me he doesn’t think I am his.
  • I wish he’d stop throwing things at my head.
  • I wish he’d stop hitting me.
  • I wish they’d stop touching me.
  • I wish I could get out of here.
  • I wish I had somewhere to go.
  • I wish someone would see the truth.
  • I wish they’d stop lying and calling me the liar.
  • I wish I wasn’t “a good for nothing whore, like your mother.”
  • I wish I knew what a whore was.
  • I wish they’d stop humiliating me.
  • I wish they’d stop degrading me.
  • I wish they’d stop strip searching me.
  • I WISH THEY’D STOP TOUCHING ME!
  • I wish I had money.
  • I wish my money from my job would be mine.
  • I wish I didn’t have to drive such an ugly car.
  • I wish I could drive when I wanted to.
  • I wish I didn’t have to go to the vocational school they chose.
  • I wish I didn’t have to be what they wanted.
  • I wish I knew how to make it all stop.
  • I wish my mind could rest.
  • I wish I could concentrate.
  • I wish I wasn’t scared.
  • I wish there was an end in sight.
  • I wish I had a better life.
  • I wish I could run away and never come back.
  • I wish they’d just finish me off and kill me once and for all already.
  • I wish someone else would stand up for me besides just me alone.
  • I wish they’d stop pretending that they are good and decent people.
  • I wish I didn’t have to send mean letters to my mom on behalf of my daddy and step-mom’s feelings.
  • I wish I didn’t have to have someone read my letters before I could read them.
  • I wish I didn’t have to start another diary again and again and again because my step-mom reads it and can’t face the truth so she takes it away and rips them up.
  • I wish I didn’t have gifts other people gave me taken away and given to my sister or thrown away.
  • I wish I didn’t have to be responsible.
  • I wish I didn’t have to be the oldest.
  • I wish my daddy didn’t spank me so hard that I flew from the living room into the kitchen.
  • I wish I could be a child.
  • I wish I didn’t have to stand in the corner for hours on end with my arms straight in the air.
  • I wish I knew how to get to my mommy’s house when daddy yelled and told me “if you want your mother walk to her house.”
  • I wish I didn’t get left on the front porch in the trailer park at 5 years old all by myself while my daddy and step-mom and sister went to visit with friends, because I didn’t know the way to mommy’s house.
  • I wish I could remember what my real name is. I haven’t heard it in so long.
  • I wish my life wasn’t so dysfunctional.
  • I wish there were no more secrets.
  • I wish I knew what love is.
  • I wish I knew what it feels like to be unconditionally loved.
  • I wish I were someone else, anyone but me.
  • I wish I could forget.
  • I wish I wasn’t permanently scarred and disfigured.
  • I wish I didn’t torture myself as much as they torture me.
  • I wish they’d stop forcing me to kiss and hug them good night and stop forcing me to tell them I love them after everything they did that day.
  • I wish I could stop hurting.
  • I wish there was a God.
  • I wish I didn’t live in Hell.
  • I wish someone could see what is happening.
  • I wish I could have chosen to give away my virginity.
  • I wish an apology was enough.
  • I wish I wasn’t “troubled.”
  • I wish I could stop crying.
  • I wish I could forgive.
  • I wish I understood why they say they forgive but keep bringing old things up.
  • I wish they’d get a different punching bag.
  • I wish it would end.
  • I wish I were intelligent.
  • I wish those who weren’t there would stop acting like they know.
  • I wish I could forget as easily as they all do.
  • I wish they didn’t control me.
  • I wish I could be me.
  • I wish being myself was enough.
  • I wish I were free.
  • I wish… I wish… I wish… I wish… I wish… I wish…
  • I wish I didn’t need to wish anymore…

14 years’ worth of child wishes and countless more things that had been wished and were never fulfilled, never answered, never my salvation. Star wishes, birthday wishes, prayers to God, pleas to anyone who had the power to do something… all fell on deaf ears and ignored by blind eyes.  A child who wished for death because it was the only way that she knew of, that would make it all end. A child who cut her wrists at 12-years-old because she didn’t know how she was going to go on after the death of her grandfather, her rock, her only love. The only one who could see the truth, her truth. A child who clearly grew up long before a child should ever have to.

It would be another 16 years after her 14 year sentence in Hell, before that child/adult would figure out that making wishes, dreaming, praying, and asking for help were all an enormous waste of her  time. One thing she had learned all to well, was that nobody could undo what had been done and even if they could nobody would be willing to switch places with her and take on what she had.

Those 16 additional years they had stolen from her, enslaving her within her own mind. When she wasn’t trying to shield herself and her children from their newest ongoing attacks via telephone, she was visualizing moment after moment in her head, replaying them in her dreams, like a never-ending horror movie, secretly hoping for a different ending, a happy ending. Trying to fill in the cracks whilst new ones were continuously added. Attempting to raise her two children differently than she had been raised, giving them everything she never had. Protecting her children from the vicious spiteful words that the so-called family were trying to pass down to them as if it were the family Bible. Hoping that the man she married who held a strong character resemblance to her father, would not pick up where her father and step-mom left off and continue to violate her tortured and nearly broken spirit. Several times in her life, wishes could have been the way to go, but her mind was so infected by the past she didn’t even consider wishing for her children not to suffer along with their mother. (Or a million other things that the Universe relentlessly pummeled her and her children with.) It never even entered her mind, not because she didn’t believe in wishes anymore (which she didn’t) but, because she was fighting a life vs. death battle inside. Deep inside herself, where there was only going to be one survivor and one alone. Would she come out alive and capable of being a competent mother, wife, human being? Or would she remain trapped inside herself, waiting for that final blow that would finish her off for good?

Then surprisingly without any warning whatsoever, the inconceivable happened and she lost her younger sister to cancer. She was no stranger to death or to cancer for that matter but, losing her sister suddenly did something that no other death could do. It was at that precise moment when the prison door she had been locked behind for most of her life, swung wide open and she walked out of the solitary confinement where she had awaited her death sentence. A light as bright and warm as the sun encased her and she was finally free…free of them, their actions, their words, their evilness, their lies, their prejudices. But wait… she was the one who had allowed them to torture her for over 30 years, even though they had not been a part of her physical life in more than half that time. They only had power over her because she allowed them to have it and use it as they wished. She had allowed the past to be her focus, which held her stagnant in a place where she couldn’t move towards the future let alone appreciate the now. So, she took back the control and freed herself; she freed her past, she freed her mind, she freed her spirit, she freed her future, and she flew away freely with the knowledge and tools that would never allow her to be imprisoned by anyone ever again!

✓ “I wish it would end.”

✓ “I wish I was intelligent.”

✓ “I wish they didn’t control me.”

✓ “I wish I could be me.”

✓ “I wish being myself was enough.”

✓ “I wish I were free.”

✓ “I wish I didn’t need to wish anymore…”

So ok… maybe some times wishes do come true. However, simply wishing for something to happen isn’t going to make it happen. Time, actions, and choices make things happen not the “magical powers” of the wish itself. I don’t need to wish anymore because I’m living in the present. I don’t want to change my past, for if my wishes had come true at that precise moment that I had wished them I wouldn’t be who I am today. I don’t know about you but, I like the person I am today, and I know I will continue to like me even more as time goes by. Something that the young me couldn’t, wouldn’t, and didn’t do.  So thank you for rejecting my wishes so I could be a strong fighter and survivor, outspoken and an activist, a better person than I or anyone else could have dreamed of. Thank you for allowing me to find my path in my own time that ultimately broke the cycle of abuse, violence, alcoholism, blame, inability to grow or move forward, and neglect that plagued my entire family for generations upon generations. Thank you for teaching me lessons that can never be unlearned. All of which allowed me to be here right now telling  showing you… becoming the living proof that anyone can overcome their past and transform into something more than they could have imagined. Wishing is short-sighted, if your wishes came true you wouldn’t learn anything. You wouldn’t be able to keep the knowledge you were taught. You wouldn’t have lived fully. You wouldn’t be able to grow and you most certainly wouldn’t be free. So give your life the time, chance, and education that it needs to grow into something miraculous.

Countdown To The Breaking Point

As I laid in a zombified, neither asleep nor awake state, in my bed this morning, thoughts racing, I had a realization that I may have never come to had it not been for the events that have taken place  in the last year and a half. The universe’s sole responsibility is to continuously batter human beings with loads of things they can barely handle emotionally, mentally, and physically until they reach their breaking point. It’s kind of like that place called Hell that so many speak of.

Several times I have just nearly escaped being irreversibly imprisoned by my own looming breaking point. I have stood on the edge of it, teetering back n’ forth, just waiting for the universe to give me that final kick in my ass that throws me over. I have come to the conclusion that there are only a handful of people left in my life that matter to me to the point where I very well could end up losing my mind completely and forever. Not to say that I don’t love each and every person in my life with all my being, it just means that the last bit of strength that I possess is only enough for that final  handful of people. There are 7 people left before I reach my permanent breaking point and depending on the order in which I lose them, it could be a full 7 or it could be just 1.

After getting the phone call from my grandfather last night I knew how flimsily my sanity hung in the balance. Hell, I knew before we even concluded our conversation, and I’m pretty sure both of my grandparents had a damn good idea of it as well. Thanks to the sudden death of my sister, I will forever be tainted and paranoid by the words, “____ is in the hospital.” Name any of those 7 people and my heart is beating out of my chest, my thoughts begin racing more than usual, and paranoia becomes the desert of the day. Well, it just so happens one of those people were named in that very phone call late last night, my mom. You could pinpoint the precise moment when I lost it, it was the moment when my voice cracked and I began cursing like a sailor on the phone to my grandfather who has been known  to tell all of us women, “Don’t use those 4 letter words. Ladies don’t speak like that.” Well F@&* THAT, I am well aware that a lady I am not. I am also aware that I am probably the last person in my family who can curse in my soprano cracking emotionally charged voice and also be the voice of reason and motivation at the same time.  It’s a gift.

The good news is after speaking to my mom last night, I was more at ease and relatively optimistic. However,  I fell asleep and while I was tossing and turning per my usual nightly ritual, my subconscious revealed things to me that my conscious mind was unable to speak openly about. My dreams were pummeled time and time again with my sister and my twin nephews. All of the bullshit that has been going on since my sister’s death has built up inside of me to the point where I can no longer function on the same level I was functioning at just a few months after her death. When she died I had my writing and I buried myself in that. Then there were mountains of things piled on top of that, from the boyfriend who up and gave his parents custody of my nephews secretly, to the middle men who are keeping my mother and grandparents from fully bonding with the boys, who by the way just turned 2 years old in August.  All these things that I have been forbidden to speak about openly, so that the saintly (hmmph) boyfriend’s family don’t get pissed off and just up and deny visitation completely to my family. This, is the moment when I say… if I had money and a gun!!!

OK…Clearly, I am joking about the gun part. Killing someone for being a thorn in my side is NOT how I do things. And we all know how easily my words get twisted around by the exact same people who I’ve spent years protecting. That alone is some kind of nightmarish form of Hell in its own right. I digress…But, yea…I don’t have money and I am helpless at the moment to do anything about these things. I ache deep down inside of my soul for my nephews and let’s not even go into details about my nieces. Let’s not even bring up how pathetic I feel to have such a loud, strong, and proud voice and to have it be hushed for the sake of family. I am reaching critical mass. It is not long before I reach that breaking point. I just want to do what is right and like all people who fight for rights I am faced with what CAN be done and what SHOULD be done. Those two things are clearly not the same thing.

As for my mom, hopefully she will be released in the next day or two. Then I can start breathing again and go back to waiting. Waiting for the universe’s final blow to my backside while I am not looking… that unavoidable breaking point. And so begins… The Countdown!

NaPoWriMo Day:17 Latin Lover

His dark tousled hair
fell lightly over his tan shoulders
not too long
and not too short
but just right for a
latin lover.

He flashed a pearly white smile
and winked his dark chestnut-colored eye
and she swooned.

She reached out her hand
touching his.
He grabbed a hold of her tightly
kissing her with the passion
she had always dreamed of.

They fell into each others arms
on the sandy beach
not too fast
and not too slow
but just right for a
latin lover.

She laid cuddled beside him
it was just like a dream
he told her te quiero
her body wanted to scream.

She opened her eyes
searched through the night
her lover was gone
he was not in her sight.

She wanted to cry
about this horrible nightmare
but instead she looked up at the stars
and waited for her
latin lover.

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin
Poetry, Prose, Art and other Creative Things
Stephen Kellogg’s Blog
Turning Paige 

NaPoWriMo Day:15 A Spicy Encounter

Her eyes
a deep oceanic blue
glazed and fixated
on something off in the distance
something only she could see.

Saliva pooled in her mouth
forcing her to swallow
repeatedly.

Beads of sweat
began to form across her
wrinkle-free browline.

She inhaled deeply
held the air
inside her
for a few seconds
then quickly she exhaled
every bit of it out.

She begins to sweat profusely
hyperventilation occurs.

Suddenly she screams out
OH MY GOD!!!

Right at the exact moment
she can no longer take it
she lifts her delicate
yet clammy hand
across her beautifully flushed face
wiping away all traces of sweat.

She refocuses
trying to control her breathing.

But before she can fully recover
she opens her devil red
painted lips
and takes another bite
of that enormous
crisp
bright green
jalapeno.

Sealing her fate yet again
for an encounter of the spicy kind!

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin
Poetry, Prose, Art and other Creative Things
Stephen Kellogg’s Blog
Turning Paige 

NaPoWriMo Day:14 Unhappy Ending

It was the last straw
The end
One fight too many
Arms desperately reached out
She dropped to her knees
Makeup and tears streaming
Down her aged face
She squealed
Grasping at the deadened
Stale air between them
Pleaseeee
Don’t leaveee meee
As the door slammed behind him
As it had done daily
For more than 20 years
She lay on the floor
In the fetal position
Heaving and crying
Gasping for air
Minutes turned into hours
Hours felt like days
When she could no longer cry
When her tears had finally dried up
She picked herself up
And walked into her room
Climbed into the queen sized empty bed
The dogs all deceased and gone
The children
No longer kids
Had families of their own
Packed up and moved away
A long time ago
All that was left was a house full of silence
And painful memories
She stared at the wall
Full of photos
She was in none of them
She was where she had always been
Behind the camera
Behind the scenes
The life on hold
As she uplifted
The lives of everyone else
Now there she was again
Alone
Tired
Tossed aside
Left to rot
Teardrops falling once more
And just as it had always been
There was nobody left
To wipe them away
So she slipped
Further and further
Back into the abyss
Into the one place
Where the pain
Could no longer exist
It was the end
Her unhappy ending

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

NaPoWriMo Day:10 Three Little Letters

Three little letters
Proceeded to stalk me
Everywhere I went
Identical three little letters

Nonessential
Minute little letters
Commanding
Heart-clenching

Woeful
Unbearable
Mighty frightening
Modest little letters

Three little letters
Proceeded to mock me
Everywhere I went
Identical three little letters

Influential
Permute little letters
Demanding
Gut-wrenching

Soulful
Terrible
Jolt of lightening
Honest little letters

Those three little letters
Have struck again
And ravaged me

Those dreadful
Shocking
Appalling
little letters

R.
I.
P.

If you visit no other blogs today please visit Sensitivity. The world has lost a tremendous poetic talent and someone that I will miss terribly. May you R.I.P. that which you did not have in life.

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

NaPoWriMo Day: 4 The Wedding Blues

The bride-to-be gets ready
the groom is nowhere to be seen.
He’s off getting drunk
as he always has,
wondering if he is making a mistake.
The bride-to-be’s mother
helps her to get ready.
Pastel colored shadow
swept across sad and confused
distant eyes.
A baby girl all grown up with a baby girl of her own.
No longer needs her mommy
or does she?
The bride-to-be slips on her white wedding dress
it’s cheap, from Ross
no frills, no lace,
just a plain
white colored dress.
Ill-fitted and a mess.
The bride-to-be looks in the mirror
she hates what she sees.
A sad, depressed blob of a woman.
Unrecognizable to the woman’s memories.
Those eyes,
once alive and full of sparkle
now dark, dead
full of pain and disappointment.
She waits,
scanning the parking lot
for the “man of her dreams.”
Finally,
as the sun begins to set
her prince charming shows up
drunk,
nothing new to their daily life together.
He reeks of alcohol and a future filled with empty promises.
Tears flow down the bride-to-be’s cheeks
as she watches her soon to be groom get dressed.
For one moment their eyes lock
and they both know instantly
their future will be fraught with more pain
more tears
more fights.
Maybe she should run away
maybe she should have listened to her parents
maybe she is making the biggest mistake of her young life
for nothing ever ends well that starts out this damaged.

Don’t forget to visit, share, and comment on these following poets pages as well:

Sweepy Jean Explores the (Webby) World
Lyric Fire
AscendingTheHills
142 Books
Sulekha Rawat: Memoirs

To create…
memoirs of a homemaker
One Time Pad
Thoughts Of Beauty In The Stillness Of Dawn…
EllieBloo
Chris Galvin 

The Secret

There is a secret
I’m required to keep.
I hide it for them
I bury it deep.
A cancerous secret
destroying my brain;
killing all happiness
leaving just pain.
.I’m not ever allowed 
to utter a word;
no one must find out 
what evil occurred.
A monstrous secret
that is hidden away,
they lie just to keep it
to this very day.
Their terrible secret
fights me for control.
I’ve attempted to free it
but, it’s sewn into my soul.
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Let Me Be Free

I’m ready to curl up into a ball
don’t want to move if I do I might fall.
My eyes are red and puffy from tears
I haven’t felt this pathetic in years.
Old hurts resurfacing, killing me
you can’t understand because you don’t see.
Can’t let go of the emotional Hell
need time to recover, time to get well.
Nobody understands the pain I feel
they’ve no idea what is show or for-real.
Tears erupting the moment I’m alone
burning my skin, cutting me to the bone.
Knocking back glass after glass ‘til I’m numb
not satisfied with what I’ve become.
Drowning the memories one after one
‘til all are confused and I’m left with none.
The pain remains standing, refusing to bow
I’m lost and don’t know which way to turn now.
Can’t escape the horrors I’ve seen and felt
refusing to shuffle the cards I’ve been dealt.
Can’t see past the words engraved on my soul
’twas your last dire attempt at keeping control.
Time and time again the wounds almost heal
I think I’m ok but, it’s all been surreal.
You’ve left me jaded unable to breathe
blinded by pain but, unable to leave
I don’t want these memories tormenting me
take back what you’ve done and let me be free!

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Who You Callin Old?

I am not old…
am I???
NO, I AM NOT OLD
I disapprove….
But, my knees disagree
and just argue with me
when I try to move.
At 2:30 A.M. I was trying to sleep
my leg began aching making me weep
I mumbled
and grumbled
and roared
then I stumbled
through the jumbled
mess on the floor
I had to find relief
to end my impending grief….
So I grabbed a bottle of pills
that only gave me the chills
so I put them back down.
I then grabbed the ben-gay
it reeked I must say
only making me frown.
I got up once more
but walking was a chore
I was going insane
from this crippling pain.
When I reached my room
in the back did loom
exactly what I required.
Right there in the drawer
closest to the floor
was the knee brace that I desired.
I then sat on the bed
but I just shook my head
because my hands felt fragile like glass….
So I tried it again
but,
let me tell you my friend
getting old is a PAIN IN THE ASS!!!
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Cutting Is Just Another Word For Bloodletting

This post I am about to write is NOT for some readers. This piece is solely educational,  for anyone who needs to understand cutting. After reading Don’t Stop MeI decided to write this to spread awareness. If you get easily  upset about horrific events in people’s lives please do not hesitate in leaving this post immediately. The only way to end violence, including one’s against ourselves is to speak about it and raise awareness.


If you would like help for cutting please contact Self Mutilator’s Anonymous  or S.A.F.E Alternatives or by all means please contact a doctor.

Words, scents, life in general…are all triggers. One moment you are fine the next minute your vision has turned black and your breathing has increased. Your chest heaves and with every breath comes an image in your head, a repressed feeling, and a new crack in your already damaged mind.

People don’t understand!!! They offer advice on things they don’t have a clue about. You live in your head because it has been your escape for more years then you care to remember. People shout at you, “Just snap out of it.” Who are these people telling you how to handle your life? Where were these people when you needed someone to rescue you? They don’t know what you are feeling,   they don’t know the agony, they don’t know you at all. They see a mirage of a person, they don’t see the real you. Truth is, NOBODY  has seen the real you since before the abuse started. You don’t even know who you are anymore!

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It’s safer to live inside your head than to try and explain why you do it. They haven’t lived what you lived, and if they had lived a portion of it they clearly have forgotten how painful it is relive it day after day after day. There is no “magical” pill or “therapist” that can erase that pain. There is no cure for this kind of pain; there is only release of the festering, aka bloodletting.

As with any wound there is drainage, when it doesn’t drain by itself it must be excised. It is removed just like any other surgical procedure; there is no slashing in random areas. Each incision is strategically placed, there are no thoughts or worries about what people will see or think. There is only a hospital staff of people walking the patient through the surgery.

 There is only one thing going on in your head and it is “OPEN THE DOOR HURRY PLEASE OPEN THE DOOR.” You are trying desperately to get inside your safe room. The room that your mind built for you when you were a victim of abuse. The room that you had to escape to, so that you could wake up every day and function as a human being.

Nobody sees it, they only see the external recovery if they are lucky. When a person is abused they feel the initial pain of it, after awhile they go to a safe place inside of their heads to escape the torture. That same mind that tortures with evil memories is the same mind that rescued when the body was being violated. It’s a constant conflict; it’s the ever present battle of good and evil. Cutting is the same thing.

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Memories come flooding and the old hurts step in and immobilizes you. There is no escape, you are paralyzed with fear. The person is helpless. A cutter has to find that safe place in a hurry.

In an episode, the cutting will continue until the cutter no longer feels the sting of the blade or the warm blood streaming down their body.This is when they know they have reached their safe place. This IS the moment of RELEASE!

It has nothing to do with dying, it is a coping mechanism; one that the person has been using their entire life. After a victim is removed from the horrors of abuse they can no longer cope the way they use to. There is no yelling or hitting anymore, there is no rape. There is only a person standing there with no way of protecting themselves from the memories and hurt that is coming to a head.

Anyone who has never been abused cannot fathom this conflict. Nobody wants to be abused, nobody asks to be abused but, that abuse helped the person cope with stress, life, hardship and pain. Remove that abuse and the survivor has to find a way to overcome it.

The only thing they know how to do is to escape to a safe zone when the pain comes. When there is no longer abuse there isn’t that automatic reaction. You now have to do one of two things; face the monster head on and hope you are strong enough to fight it or force yourself into that safe place.

Physical pain forces you into survival mode; it opens the door to the locked, secure room that is your safety. Cutting initiates the chain reaction to get you to that room where you can function as normally as you ever have.

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I am not condoning cutting, this is in no way a post about glorifying self mutilation. This is for educational purposes; for those who don’t understand cutting but, have a loved one who cuts. This is also for the cutters; to express the things that cutting does but, that they cannot put into words.

 Everyone has some demon they keep hidden from the rest of the world. Fear keeps these demons alive. The only way to educate and get help is to speak about it. We cannot turn a blind eye to horrific occurrences and pretend they don’t exist. We have to educate and help our fellow man/woman.

We all know someone who is suffering, what does it cost us to put a hand out and lift someone out of that Hell? The cycles need to be broken, the word must be spread, people are in need of assistance… will you be a part of the problem or will you be part of the solution?

My Inner Child

Note: This poem was written July 31, 1994. I had just turned 19 years old.

Of all the hate that drives me crazy
is all the anger inside of me. 
I get upset, I yell and scream
there’s much more fear than I can dream.
I hurt inside every night and day
and sometimes the price I must pay,
These prices are he love within
that cannot be given.
An understanding no one can know
and all the while the emotions grow.
A love I have for one special person
and I cannot express why I run.
I run from happiness
and why no one can guess. 
I’ve led a life with hopes and dreams
but, now it has turned to screams.
I cannot handle the inner one
something has to be done!

Loving Adventure

Every moment I have shared with you
hasn’t always been the happiest
but, it has been an adventure.
An adventure that has lasted through many years
and also many tears.
Lasted through many days of laughter
and many times of pain.
You have kept me on my toes
and shown me what it is to live.
You have lifted me up
in times of crisis and great sadness.
In times of pure craziness
you never left my side.
Life with you has never been boring.
The very first time
we shared our first kiss
I knew it would be forever.
When you held my hand
I could tell that you felt the same way.
There was a passion
that sparked a fire
to this very day is still burning
Everyday there is a new feeling.
Feelings I wouldn’t have
if not for you.
I can’t imagine how my life would be
without you in it.
I don’t want to consider
how unfortunate my life would be
if i didn’t have you.
The days would be dark
darker than the deepest sea.
The nights would be long
longer than three lifetimes.
Time would stop completely in it’s tracks
and I would be lost
lonely and forgotten
forever
without you.
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This is the English version of Aventura Amorosa 

T.V. Mysteries Are No Mystery To Me

You know what I would like to see on tv shows today…..mystery; good ole I can’t figure it out mystery. Is that too much to ask for?

Normally I don’t pay much attention to tv shows I am usually to busy doing 5 of 40 other things I need to get done. I say multi-tasking you say A.D.D……poe tay toe po ta toe!!!

But, today while I have been in excruciating make your ancestors cry pain; I have had nothing to do but, watch tv. I have spent more time on my back with legs in the air today than a chick at the Chicken Ranch/ Bunny Ranch combined. Unfortunately for me the moans I let out were not from pleasure.

While lying here watching Ghost Whisperer reruns and Criminal Minds reruns 1 thing kept popping up…..no it had nothing to do with my position on the couch perverts….The shows are far too easy for me to figure out. Intuition? Psychopathic tendencies? Just plain odd? Overly in touch with my inner serial killer?

I don’t know but, for the sake of my sanity…. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tv writers could you throw me a twist that my brain can’t figure out in the first 5 minutes. THANKS Oh and let’s hope God doesn’t count minutes by time spent on back or I will have some spalining to do. *Desi Arnaz voice*

R.I.P Loca

This poem was written on March 2, 2010. Thought I would share, plus it gives an idea how far my poetry as come since las year.

My heart has stopped beating
my happiness is fleeting.

I need you in my life right now
I hang my head I begin to bow.

You are not here but yet you are,
so close yet so far.

My tears run down my face all day
I can see you run I see you play.

Your scent is all around me
you are more than a memory.

Feels like someone has cut my heart out of my chest
I try and sleep my mind never at rest.

I watched you slowly die
my eyes stung I began to cry.

I held your body against my chest
I wondered if I gave my best.

I thought that it was time to let you go in peace
only God could make your suffering cease.

I held your head to me so close
while the needle injected its lethal dose.

In that moment i felt you leave
my body consumed by unbearable grief.

Your body lie there your soul has flown
the room is full yet I am all alone.

Life goes on or so they say
but most of me is with you and gone away.

Life is not about what you do
it is about those you love and whom love you.

I know this pain I feel today
will never end just slowly fade.

My body shakes my tears they flow
I know you are with me everywhere that I go.

I’m sorry my friend for it ending like this
but know it is you that I will forever miss.

R.I.P
Loca
January 2008-
February 25,2010

Parting Clouds

Yesterday was a day of pain; deep, devouring, why on Earth would I get up pain!!! I lost 2 people on March 29th a year apart. And as strong as I think I am; I am not strong enough to forgive myself for at least one of them. (R.I.P. baby and grandma)

I still blame myself for the miscarriage in 2000; you would think that after this many years I could let it go. I won’t say I am a glutton for punishment; I just want to make sure I do enough “time.” Pain to me can be like jail time, I am imprisoned but, it purely is by my own choice. I don’t want to suffer but, at the same time I believe that you have to remember or repeating the same mistake is inevitable. Does that mean in remembering I have to relive the pain? Well, in my opinion, once you let that pain go, forgetting what happened soon follows. Maybe my own personal judgement in my life is too clouded for me to see clearly.

The day pretty much bummed me out when I first realized what day it was but, as it progressed I got distracted enough to not let it get to me like it usually does. That seems a bit odd to me, distraction is the key to not beating myself up? Does that mean everything I feel and do is boredom driven? That when I have nothing to do I choose to torture myself for the past? I don’t know if I like that, if it is at all true.

Maybe, I have finally realized this year, that I have served my sentence in its entirety plus some. Honestly, I feel relieved that I can finally get through my life and know that I am a good person and don’t need to keep punishing myself for mistakes that I have made. A calm has washed over me knowing that this is the year I have waited forever for. I have spent a lifetime battling the mistakes my parents made, why spend a lifetime in agony for mine. The clouds in my head have parted and I can finally see, I am becoming the person I should have been raised to be.

I hurt without you

When I turn on music
each time that I do
tears well up in my eyes
I remember you.

Doesn’t matter the song
sound doesn’t come through
it’s killing me inside
I’m grieving for you.

Severe pain in my chest
in my stomach too
tears rushing down my face
I hurt without you.

Live Everyday Like It’s Your Last

Life is short…. How many times a day do we hear those exact words? Our whole lives we are aware that death is inevitable and that one day our time will come but, when it comes, we are not prepared for it.  Is there a way to prepare for the inevitable demise of a loved one? Even when you find out and have time to grieve and to say goodbye,  can you truly prepare?


I have lived through many family losses, I have been to only a couple of funerals, and I have held the hand to someone knowing they will pass but, could not find the words to comfort them or myself. I love you seems to be the only thing I can manage to say before I break into tears and have to walk away, head hung in shame. I have held my dog as the Vet injected her and felt her life fade right in front of my very eyes. We knew she was sick, we knew she wouldn’t get better, we had time to say goodbye but, all I could say to her was “I’m sorry.”


I’m sorry because I failed to take care of her so that she could have a long life. I tear up as I type this,because we are approaching the year anniversary of her passing and because losing my sister is still far too fresh for me. I feel like she was robbed of her life and I was robbed of her. I am aware that she is better off now because she is no longer in pain but, then I begin to question everything like…. is death the reward while life is the punishment? I have lived a hard life but, do I deserve to continue to suffer after everything I have already been through? And why is it that those who don’t seem to suffer much, end up getting rescued before the rest of us? Honestly, it is beginning to annoy me that people are required to suffer to be considered a good person anyway.   And I am still disgusted at her diagnosis and lack of treatment.


I don’t have faith in the medical profession, I have seen and heard what doctor’s do. I have been on the receiving end of what doctor’s do. But, what gets me is not what they do but, what they don’t do. Like save you before it is too late!!! You see my sister had just had twin boys in August and got sick not long after that. What I don’t get is everyone knows a woman over 30 having a multiple birth is at risk, therefore they are watched over regardless of past pregnancies. What I want to know is how on God’s green Earth do you miss something as severe as breast cancer? I am not saying it couldn’t have just appeared and I know that cancer is still fairly new to us and sometimes it doesn’t show up. But, stage 4 in February, 6 months after she was in the hospital delivering babies. 6 months after having a C-section and a tubal ligation. Seriously…. Nobody in 6 months or before saw or heard her say anything that would warrant a mammogram or ultrasound?  How does that happen?


Yes, I am going through the stages of grief, this has just been told to me every single day since she passed. On top of all the things going on in life this was the last thing I wanted to hear. And I cannot prepare for what comes next no matter how hard I try, I cannot and will not accept this. I refuse to turn this into the circus main attraction that some people in my family seem to be trying to do. But, what can I do besides keep spreading the word and awareness? I can’t be her savior and even if I wanted to be it’s a little late to be trying to save the dead, I suppose that is someone else’s job now. Hell, for all I know she has reincarnated already anyway and is bringing happiness to someone else somewhere far away from here. All I can hope for is that she is happy and that she knows that I loved her no matter what.  As for me, I will keep sharing her story and find new stories to bring to light. Her life changed so why shouldn’t mine……

My Sister’s Keeper

Nothing prepares you for the words I heard in under a week’s time. How we went from, “your sister has cancer” on Saturday to ” your sister died” on Tuesday, I will never understand. I am still in shock, I manage to stop crying long enough to scream, ” God why?” My chest hurts, I have seen death in my life, it is no stranger to me but, this….

She deserves so much, she deserved to know every day of her life that she was indeed loved. Something I think she questioned daily in her short 33 years of life. I spent our entire childhood trying to protect her from any kind of pain imaginable. I failed to do this when she became an adult. I, like everyone else in the world, had decided she had to grow up and face life head on. What I didn’t see was she had no idea how to do this because of me allowing her to stay a child and not learning the true reality of life itself.  Continue reading

Hate that I love you

 

Your pain is my pain I hurt so very deep
all I have is words right now even though talk is cheap.
I cannot bear to hear you suffering it bothers me more and more so
I need to show you but I cannot so I am just making sure you know.
I hate it that I love you so and can’t get you off my mind
sick of worrying and losing sleep for reasons left undefined.
Why do you make me repeat myself and tell you how i feel?
Why don’t you believe me, can’t you see that I’m for real?
I sit and stress til I cry because I can’t have what I want
you know it’s you that makes me this way yet you act so nonchalant.
I don’t expect for you to tell me that your love for me is true
but, when I say I love you, can’t you say it to me too?


Loca

My heart has stopped beating
my happiness is fleeting.
I need you in my life right now
I hang my head I begin to bow.
You are not here but yet you are,
so close yet so far.
My tears run down my face all day
I can see you run I see you play.
Your scent is all around me
you are more then a memory.
Feels like someone has cut my heart out of my chest
I try and sleep my mind never at rest.
I watched you slowly die
my eyes stung I began to cry.
I held your body against my chest
I wondered if I gave my best.
I thought that it was time to let you go in peace
only God could make your suffering cease.
I held your head to me so close
while the needle injected its lethal dose.
In that moment I felt you leave
my body consumed by unbearable grief.
Your body lie there your soul has flown
the room is full yet I am all alone.
Life goes on or so they say
but most of me is with you and gone away.
Life is not about what you do
it is about those you love and whom love you.
I know this pain I feel today
will never end just slowly fade.
My body shakes my tears they flow
I know you are with me everywhere that I go.
I’m sorry my friend for it ending like this
but know it is you that I will forever miss.