Welcome to my small piece of heaven. A piece of my soul will be given here as I embark on this journey of becoming a writer and an aspiring author. Today, I have exchanged the pen and pad to type into the “ethers.” I am stepping beyond my tiny little home office to take this small leap of faith.
Writing was an escape and a way to silently express my heart. I am a woman who has managed to survive the overwhelming effects of child abuse. Today, I can see how the effects of abuse has been magnified and grown to become a global disorder within the body of humanity. It has been an issue that has weighed heavily on my heart for over half a century.
As a child abuse caused me to dissociate. I retreated into “my own little world,” but it was in that world that I learned how to see, hear and perceive things differently. It was a world that inspired me to explore, to learn, to dive into the mystical unknown. As the years progressed with perpetual abuse it became a habit for me to withdraw and detach from the world around me.
When I had time to myself I would write, sketch or draw in that world of solitude and silence. A world that understood me, made me feel safe enough to express my tears, and where I immersed myself in that world. It was a defense mechanism that sustained my fractured soul and kept me from fragmenting and falling to pieces.
When I was growing up, the topic of abuse was met with wide-eyed palpable stares, judgments, assumptions and presumptions, that would lead to humiliation and embarrassment toward the person who dared to bring it up. To mention abuse or even whisper it in public, was looked down on and frowned upon.
Abuse was a private thing that took place behind the closed doors of a man’s home. Societal protocols viewed it as the unspeakable thing and it was avoided in discreet and unassuming ways. No one wanted to hear it, no one wanted to know about it, and no one was allowed to speak of it – even if the evidence was standing right in front of them they would turn and walk away. It was either ignored completely, hushed up in a rush or quickly brushed off by those who didn’t want to hear or know of it. What saddens me the most is that it still goes on today.
As a young wife and mother I was still enslaved by that primal fear instilled within me at the age of five. I never knew that I had a Voice, because I was never allowed to have one. It took seventeen years to realize I married a verbal, mental and emotionally abusive man. I was 38 years old when the light bulb came on and I learned that abuse “wasn’t normal.”
I know now, from just writing the first few chapters, how much more work needs to be done, and how deeply the physical, mental, emotional and sexual abuse has affected me. There are still unresolved issues that I am uprooting. Roots with fine hair-like entanglements that are still buried within the mind of the wounded child that rides inside me.
My goal is to express the heart of my soul. I am a seeker of knowledge and I am a metaphysically minded believer of a much higher power than humanity could ever muster – A seeker and sage that is unmasking the authentic core of my being.
It is my prayer that you will join me as my journey unfolds
…..May your day be blessed.