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 Posted: Wed Apr 23, 2008 10:39 pm
I am a d r e a m e r... TO WRITE LOVE ON HER ARMS by Jamie Tworkowski
Pedro the Lion is loud in the speakers, and the city waits just outside our open windows. She sits and sings, legs crossed in the passenger seat, her pretty voice hiding in the volume. Music is a safe place and Pedro is her favorite. It hits me that she won't see this skyline for several weeks, and we will be without her. I lean forward, knowing this will be written, and I ask what she'd say if her story had an audience. She smiles. "Tell them to look up. Tell them to remember the stars."
I would rather write her a song, because songs don't wait to resolve, and because songs mean so much to her. Stories wait for endings, but songs are brave things bold enough to sing when all they know is darkness. These words, like most words, will be written next to midnight, between hurricane and harbor, as both claim to save her.
Renee is 19. When I meet her, cocaine is fresh in her system. She hasn't slept in 36 hours and she won't for another 24. It is a familiar blur of coke, pot, pills and alcohol. She has agreed to meet us, to listen and to let us pray. We ask Renee to come with us, to leave this broken night. She says she'll go to rehab tomorrow, but she isn't ready now. It is too great a change. We pray and say goodbye and it is hard to leave without her.
She has known such great pain; haunted dreams as a child, the near-constant presence of evil ever since. She has felt the touch of awful naked men, battled depression and addiction, and attempted suicide. Her arms remember razor blades, fifty scars that speak of self-inflicted wounds. Six hours after I meet her, she is feeling trapped, two groups of "friends" offering opposite ideas. Everyone is asleep. The sun is rising. She drinks long from a bottle of liquor, takes a razor blade from the table and locks herself in the bathroom. She cuts herself, using the blade to write "******** UP" large across her left forearm.
The nurse at the treatment center finds the wound several hours later. The center has no detox, names her too great a risk, and does not accept her. For the next five days, she is ours to love. We become her hospital and the possibility of healing fills our living room with life. It is unspoken and there are only a few of us, but we will be her church, the body of Christ coming alive to meet her needs, to write love on her arms.
She is full of contrast, more alive and closer to death than anyone I've known, like a Johnny Cash song or some theatre star. She owns attitude and humor beyond her 19 years, and when she tells me her story, she is humble and quiet and kind, shaped by the pain of a hundred lifetimes. I sit privileged but breaking as she shares. Her life has been so dark yet there is some soft hope in her words, and on consecutive evenings, I watch the prettiest girls in the room tell her that she's beautiful. I think it's God reminding her.
I've never walked this road, but I decide that if we're going to run a five-day rehab, it is going to be the coolest in the country. It is going to be rock and roll. We start with the basics; lots of fun, too much Starbucks and way too many cigarettes.
Thursday night she is in the balcony for Band Marino, Orlando's finest. They are indie-folk-fabulous, a movement disguised as a circus. She loves them and she smiles when I point out the A&R man from Atlantic Europe, in town from London just to catch this show.
She is in good seats when the Magic beat the Sonics the next night, screaming like a lifelong fan with every Dwight Howard dunk. On the way home, we stop for more coffee and books, Blue Like Jazz and (Anne Lamott's) Travelling Mercies.
On Saturday, the Taste of Chaos tour is in town and I'm not even sure we can get in, but doors do open and minutes after parking, we are on stage for Thrice, one of her favorite bands. She stands ten feet from the drummer, smiling constantly. It is a bright moment there in the music, as light and rain collide above the stage. It feels like healing. It is certainly hope.
Sunday night is church and many gather after the service to pray for Renee, this her last night before entering rehab. Some are strangers but all are friends tonight. The prayers move from broken to bold, all encouraging. We're talking to God but I think as much, we're talking to her, telling her she's loved, saying she does not go alone. One among us knows her best. Ryan sits in the corner strumming an acoustic guitar, singing songs she's inspired.
After church our house fills with friends, there for a few more moments before goodbye. Everyone has some gift for her, some note or hug or piece of encouragement. She pulls me aside and tells me she would like to give me something. I smile surprised, wondering what it could be. We walk through the crowded living room, to the garage and her stuff.
She hands me her last razor blade, tells me it is the one she used to cut her arm and her last lines of cocaine five nights before. She's had it with her ever since, shares that tonight will be the hardest night and she shouldn't have it. I hold it carefully, thank her and know instantly that this moment, this gift, will stay with me. It hits me to wonder if this great feeling is what Christ knows when we surrender our broken hearts, when we trade death for life.
As we arrive at the treatment center, she finishes: "The stars are always there but we miss them in the dirt and clouds. We miss them in the storms. Tell them to remember hope. We have hope."
I have watched life come back to her, and it has been a privilege. When our time with her began, someone suggested shifts but that is the language of business. Love is something better. I have been challenged and changed, reminded that love is that simple answer to so many of our hardest questions. Don Miller says we're called to hold our hands against the wounds of a broken world, to stop the bleeding. I agree so greatly.
We often ask God to show up. We pray prayers of rescue. Perhaps God would ask us to be that rescue, to be His body, to move for things that matter. He is not invisible when we come alive. I might be simple but more and more, I believe God works in love, speaks in love, is revealed in our love. I have seen that this week and honestly, it has been simple: Take a broken girl, treat her like a famous princess, give her the best seats in the house. Buy her coffee and cigarettes for the coming down, books and bathroom things for the days ahead. Tell her something true when all she's known are lies. Tell her God loves her. Tell her about forgiveness, the possibility of freedom, tell her she was made to dance in white dresses. All these things are true.
We are only asked to love, to offer hope to the many hopeless. We don't get to choose all the endings, but we are asked to play the rescuers. We won't solve all mysteries and our hearts will certainly break in such a vulnerable life, but it is the best way. We were made to be lovers bold in broken places, pouring ourselves out again and again until we're called home.
I have learned so much in one week with one brave girl. She is alive now, in the patience and safety of rehab, covered in marks of madness but choosing to believe that God makes things new, that He meant hope and healing in the stars. She would ask you to remember. Who's dreams have s h a t t e r e d.
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Posted: Sun Jul 06, 2008 3:30 pm
You might not r e a l i z e it...
Kay guys, all you active members of the guild requested it!
I'll start posting updates from the sites,
Jamie's blogs,
Maybe my own blogs on here.
Please guys, don't quote any of the updates/blogs, I'm sure you guys already know. But if you're confused on how to make it clear on which one you're commenting, I'll be titling every thing I post from here on out, and I'll bold it; so you guys just type;; RE: INSERT TITLE HERE in bold please. Thanks guys :]
But you are l o v e d.
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Posted: Tue Jul 08, 2008 8:28 pm
You might not r e a l i z e it...
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
CHANGES COME
Hey Guys.
First off, thanks for the response to that last blog. It's been really cool to read through the comments and see so many different kinds of answers. i hope you enjoyed wrestling with that question. It was asked with Cornerstone (Festival) in mind - my time on stage between The Almost and Anberlin, an attempt to invite you guys into the process. But more importantly, i think it's a good one for all of us to think about as it's less about the stage and more about how we want to live, what we want our lives to say.
The whole thing reminded me of a question my friend A.J. asked a few years back... "If your life was a movie, would anyone want to watch? Would you want to watch?"
i really wrestled with that one, thought a ton about it when i left Hurley to pursue TWLOHA full-time two summers ago. It was just after Cornerstone, actually. Two years ago this week. Just realized that. Pretty cool to think about.
We were up late friday night at Cornerstone. Stayed to see Over the Rhine and we've been talking about it ever since. So our new song is theirs and it's a good one and we hope you'll give it a listen. i like the idea that songs can help tell our story - our story as individuals and our story as TWLOHA. This is one of those songs that just feels true to me. i was going to write a bunch more and i was going to post the lyrics but i think it's better if you just listen. The title alone says a lot - we need to be reminded of that. We need to believe it.
Changes Come.
: )
jamie
PS: Our filming friend Dustin was with us at Cornerstone, so we'll have some video for you very soon.
Coming Soon:
Pick Up the Phone.
Purpose For the Pain.
But you are l o v e d.
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Posted: Tue Jul 08, 2008 8:44 pm
You might not r e a l i z e it...
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
From Renee.
Renee has been doing some writing on the TWLOHA Street Team page.
She has a gift and we're excited to be able to share some of that with you.
More coming very soon.
From Renee:
I just wrote five paragraphs about hope, and I also just deleted them
all a million times faster than it took me to write them. I deleted
them because I think there is something underneath hope. There is
something that feeds it, and keeps it alive, and perpetuates it. I
believe that everything is undeniably intertwined, such as purpose,
hope, love, redemption and healing...specifically those things, are on
my heart tonight...
Many of you do not know me. Perhaps most of you do not know me.
You know the story, the image, the picture of the girl in that video you
saw that one time...or maybe you know what I desperately long to
represent. Here is a little window into my heart and mind these days.
These are the days after the digging and burying. This is the part
where I stop running and fight every part of myself to slowly turn
around and look into the mirror. This is where I fight to feel, where
the ones that I love get clawed up in the process and my heart has to
learn how to apologize. It has to learn how to allow itself to be
weak and vulnerable as opposed to calloused and hostile. These are the
days that I have to choose healing. True healing, holistically and not
just where it hurts less. When we spend our lives trying preserve
ourselves, trying to escape, we build a dam. Sooner or later we have
to let it out, and the fear of that process knocked me down face first
in the mud time after time. My fear came from the belief that such a
weight would crush me, that feeling such pain after years of apathy
would kill me, and the unknown. What would happen to my heart if I let
it feel these things? What vices would I turn to this time? Would the
blow of such a burden wipe me out, put the running shoes back on my
feet...break me?
yes.
it would.
it will.
break me.
it will break me so that the parts that healed wrong from being
ignored so long might have a second chance.
it will hurt my heart so that it may heal.
peroxide.
my fight is not for hope as much as it is for healing these days, and
it has taken me over five years of sitting on her couch to touch the
edge of this idea. of this new direction.
The other day my boyfriend thought he might have been bitten by a
spider. His foot was swollen and red to the point that he was sent
home from work. Despite the pain he was in, he didn't want to go to
the doctor. He told me he was afraid. He told me that if it was a
spider bite, the doctor would cut open his foot and squeeze all of the
poison out. I think that is what this is. I think that we fear per
suing help, healing, because of the pain we will have to go through to
get it. The pain might even be worse then the actual wound in the
first place. So, we are left with a choice. We can let the poison
fester and build, cripple, and potentially destroy us. Or we can
choose to face it, fight it, cut it out and let it truly heal. all the
way.
The other key component to this path, is who will walk with me. I, in
all of my determination and willpower, could not endure such pain on
my own. We aren't asked to do this alone, but our cruel little minds
would like for us to forget this. I know mine would. It is my mind
that would like to destroy me, it's the place upstairs that is driven
to destruction, and on it's own it would surely succeed. However, when
I choose to go there, and I invite someone else in with me, to hold my
hand, to carry me when I am beaten down, that is when healing is
possible. This is where I believe we find community and its value in
our lives, and this is also the role we are asked to take part in. We
are not asked to be the doctor, or the scalpel, we are asked to be the
ones who will stand by and hold your hand, when our hearts are not on
the table themselves.
We were never meant to live with poison. We aren't asked to walk
around with it determined not to let it impede us. We are not intended
to be crippled from our wounds, but we are left with the option of
accepting it, or biting down and getting dirty and feeling our pain in
all of its awfulness in order that we may be restored. This is one way
that bloodletting is good. Maybe that's where I got onto the wrong
track. I took that concept in my life and literally tried to cut out
my pain, I was a terrible doctor! But here, two years later, I'm
handing the knife over and asking my God to help me let out the
poison. I will not walk away this time, in shame or isolation. I will
move forward in love and community and with a new found strength, a
new kind of hope to offer. I want this healing, first for my own
heart, and secondly so that I might offer it to you, my dear friends,
dear hearts out there, walking around with spider bites, desperate for
healing and afraid of the pain. I spend my Mondays on a couch with a
blanket fighting to hurt, to heal, and it is my hope that you might be
encouraged to do the same in your own way.
So, hi. This is me. a human being, in all of my frailty. laying myself
out for you, that we might walk through this beautiful, awful, strange
thing we call life, together. I have exchanged my knife for a pen and
some dead trees. I am fighting to turn my will over and put myself on
the table. To not just admit that there are some things that need
fixing, but to see them for all that they are. It is possible. to
heal. to walk away restored from trauma. to acknowledge pain without
letting it own you. it is OK to be weak. it is OK to be powerless. it
is OK to be afraid. as much as we love to hate anything that isn't
pretty and presentable, sometimes we need permission to just, be. as
messy as it may seem, as sticky and heavy and slow as it may be, we
have to remember to be patient and gracious with our hearts. It is
worth it. There is so much more than merely surviving, and that is far
more beautiful than any cleaned up pretty version of ourselves we'd
like to walk around with. This is my where my heart is, and this is my
hope for you.
I spent the past five years of my life writing out my pain, my joy, my
struggle and the drive to find a new life on paper. Part of recovery
is finding new solutions to our problems and this has continued to be
one of mine. I always thought I'd be your modern-day Emily Dickinson,
that some tragic event would take place and I would die and people would
find my journals and publish them... instead I am still alive and happy to say
that there are some very exciting things in the works...but I'm pretty
sure Emily would have me beat any day...anyway, stay tuned, there
is definitely more to come.
But you are l o v e d.
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2008 6:31 pm
You might not r e a l i z e it... Friday, July 11, 2008
Video Interview - HotTopic.com
Hey Guys.
We are really excited about how things are going with Hot Topic. We've heard from so many kind people on their team - folks who work in their stores and managers and even their CEO. (Her name is Betsy and we've kinda become buddies) Their people have been hugely supportive and that's really meant a lot to us.
We believe that hope belongs in places where you wouldn't expect to find it.
We believe that hope belongs in places where people go.
Because we believe that hope is for people.
All people.
Not just cool people or people who look a certain way or think a certain way.
And we like surprises.
We're aware of the tension and we're aiming for change.
These are a few of the reasons why we're excited that our shirts are sold in Hot Topic.
The simplest version is that we feel like it's a chance for hope and help to be introduced to people all over the U.S.
Plus, Hot Topic makes a donation back to TWLOHA every time they sell one of our shirts. That was their idea. Pretty cool.
Anyway, i visited the HT offices in California a few weeks back and they filmed an interview for HotTopic.com and you can watch it HERE.
It's a surprise and a privilege to be able to say those things on that website. Who would have thought? Thanks for coming with us on this journey.
We're all in it together.
Peace to you.
: )
jamie But you are l o v e d.
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Posted: Fri Jul 11, 2008 6:34 pm
You might not r e a l i z e it... Friday, July 11, 2008
anberlin / exclusive.
The new song on our page is called "Disappear". Our friends in Anberlin posted it a couple hours ago. (They also updated their MySpace so everything is green and orange and awesome now.) The Anberlin guys are pretty much family to us - i was thinking about this yesterday standing with a bunch of folks from our team, watching the guys play Main Stage at Warped in Orlando... i've known Stephen and Deon since days before Anberlin (We're all from Florida. It's a long story and it's pretty funny but it's better when Stephen tells it.)
Anyway, i heard "Disappear" this afternoon, added it as our new song, and sent the following text to the members of Anberlin:
"Your new song is our new song and it is certainly good. Hooray for MySpace."
Stephen replied a minute later with "The lyrics are about not forgetting the homeless." He sent a top-secret link to the lyrics and said i was welcome to post them as an exclusive blog. So here it is, ladies and gentlemen, the first-ever "exclusive" blog in the history of To Write Love on Her Arms, compliments of Mr. Stephen Christian.
Sidenote: Someday, you will be sitting next to a friend and this song will come on and they will say "i like this song, i am going to google the lyrics." And you will say "Oh, i remember when TWLOHA posted those. It was an exclusive blog." Your friend will look at you funny but you will be correct.
enjoy.
: )
jamie
Disappear (by Anberlin)
we are the last of the sleepless ones
left behind by those we left behind tonight
quiet now let our poison take
were we always just your lost cause mistakes
wait for me will you wait for me
need you by my side
way for me make way for me
with arms wide
alone left alone
watch us slowly disappear with time
unknown still unknown
forgotten, lost, & left behind
dark lit streets are no place for kids
but it gives us more of a home than you ever did
we're the silentist's left to our own demise
you're still our last chance to get out of this place alive
wait for me will you wait for me
with arms wide
alone left alone
watch us slowly disappear with time
unknown still unknown
forgotten, lost, & left behind But you are l o v e d.
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Posted: Mon Jul 14, 2008 6:16 pm
You might not r e a l i z e it... Monday, July 14, 2008
PICK UP THE PHONE.
Hey Guys.
For the last year, we've been sending money to the Kristin Brooks Hope Center, which is also known as Hopeline and 1-800-SUICIDE. It's been far from a one-sided relationship. These guys have helped us provide suicide prevention training to our entire team, including all of our volunteers. They have shared everything from ideas and information to struggles and dreams, and they've become friends in the process.
Hopeline was founded by Reese Butler in 1998, after he lost his wife Kristin to suicide. Since that time, the Kristin Brooks Hope Center has provided help to nearly three million callers.
Today, 1-800-SUICIDE is in need of some help of it's own.
PICK UP THE PHONE is a campaign partnership between the communities of To Write Love on Her Arms and PostSecret to provide support for the work of the National Hopeline Network and the Kristin Brooks Hope Center (KBHC).
Over the past decade, the Kristin Brooks Hope Center and 1-800-SUICIDE have helped thousands of people through the Hopeline network. With your support and with the support of TWLOHA and PostSecret, they will be able to continue to provide this assistance, along with the comfort of complete confidentiality.
As a result of the many calls that 1-800-SUICIDE receives every day, and because of a delay in government funding, Hopeline is struggling to pay their phone bill. If this bill is not paid, the government will be allowed to fully take control of 1-800-SUICIDE. Part of what makes Hopeline such a powerful resource is that the calls placed to this number are completely private and confidential. We believe that the responsibility for providing a private and confidential environment in which to find help should remain in the hands of those who had the heart and compassion to begin this work ten years ago.
For these reasons, TWLOHA is encouraging everyone to support the PICK UP THE PHONE campaign in the following ways:
1. Donate directly to Hopeline.
2. Join the Hopeline 99 Club
3. Buy the new PICK UP THE PHONE shirt in the TWLOHA Online Store. 100% of proceeds go to Hopeline.
4. Sign up to support PICK UP THE PHONE via SocialVibe
5. Add a PICK UP THE PHONE banner to your MySpace page:
The money that comes from these donations (and t-shirt sales) will be used to help pay the phone bill that connects 50,000 calls per month to the National Hopeline Network, and to keep 1-800-SUICIDE in the hands of The Kristin Brooks Hope Center. This support also paves the way for future services, such as training of online counselors to provide assistance through one-on-one live Internet chat.
With your support, we can work together to prevent tragedy and to stand with Hopeline in this pivotal moment. In moments of bravery and confusion and honesty, people turn to 1-800-SUICIDE. Nearly three million of them. The folks at Hopeline have been answering those calls for ten years, picking up the phone when it's mattered most. Now it's our turn. This is our moment to respond.
We are proud to introduce:
PICK UP THE PHONE.
Peace to you.
jamie
PS: Here's a few words from PostSecret founder Frank Warren:
"I think TWLOHA and PostSecret are very special websites and communities...
These communities are precious, fragile, strong and meaningful... What a thrill to be combining forces to help Reese Butler and Hopeline. I have been working with Reese since 2005 and before that I was a volunteer answering Hopeline calls at a Hopeline crisis center. I personally know the good works that Reese is behind and truly appreciate all the time and effort you all are contributing to. I believe it is some of the most important work being done on the planet." But you are l o v e d.
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Posted: Wed Jul 16, 2008 5:49 pm
You might not r e a l i z e it... Wednesday, July 16, 2008
PURPOSE FOR THE PAIN. (by Renee Yohe)
Hey friends!
I'm sitting outside of starbucks in Winter Park right now
and I just wanted to take a moment to share some exciting things with
you. I have seen some beautiful things born from a conversation that
occured one night just over two years ago, stories of redemption and
hope and the struggle to find them, and since then have been
priviledged to watch the growing response. I am humbled and overjoyed
to share more of my story firsthand. My book, Purpose for the Pain, is
a compilation of journals that I kept through my journey from
addiction to the daily fight for recovery. It is my hope to provide
you with a tangible example of the redemption in my life that you may
be encouraged to find it in your own story. My desire is to be
transparent, as ugly and awkward as it may be, from the darkest of
corners to the most beautiful parts, and everything in between. I hope
that by giving you this piece of my heart you might be inspired,
enlightened, and comforted in each of your journeys, knowing that you
do not travel alone. I fiercely believe that there is nothing that
cannot be redeemed and that the fight for it is worth it. Secrets keep
us sick. This is my attempt to shed light on the dark that it may no
longer have power, and defuse the lie that our burdens should be kept
silent. I would encourage you to write, to speak, to dream, to fight
for truth and healing in your own lives. This is my story, offered to
you, that you may find yours.
Renee
Renee's book, PURPOSE FOR THE PAIN, is now available for pre-order in the TWLOHA Online Store.
Orders will ship 8/23.
TWLOHA began with Renee's story. Purpose for the Pain is Renee's story in her words; a collection of handwritten journals documenting her journey from addiction to sobriety and pain to hope. Over 300 pages.
WARNING: This book contains mature and graphic content relating to the issues that Renee has struggled with (depression, addiction, self-injury, suicide, sexual abuse). Please use your discretion. We believe that the book is ultimately an honest story of hope and redemption, but parts of the story are very painful.  [url=http://www.msplinks.com/MDFodHRwOi8vd3d3LnphbWJvb2llLmNvbS90d2xvaGEvZGV0YWlsLnRwbD9jYXJ0PTEyMTYyNDQ2MTIzOTQ0MTQmc2t1PVRXTEJPT0sxMDA][img ]http://www.twloha.com/images/purposebanner.gif[/img] But you are l o v e d.
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Posted: Thu Jul 24, 2008 12:49 pm
You might not r e a l i z e it... Wednesday, July 23, 2008
BATMAN.
There were kids in costumes but i felt far from them. They were dressed for a party but i was in line for something like a funeral. The posters said "Batman" but i was in line to say some strange goodbye to a guy i never met.
i remember the night that Heath Ledger died in New York City. Some friends of mine were playing Scrabble a few blocks away. Josh is one of my best friends and his wife Amy is kind. Their apartment is warm and they fill it with music and the Scrabble is simply a means to laughter. i remember thinking and wishing that Heath Ledger could have somehow found his way to Josh and Amy's apartment that night. Maybe that's a weird thought but it was simply the possibility that he would have been less alone, that he might have found a friend or been surprised by laughter...
As for the movie, The Joker was alone.
We talked about it the next day and that was the thing we kept coming back to. He is completely alone. No gang. No sidekick. He doesn't trust anyone. He doesn't need anyone. He is so disconnected that we never even get to see his story. We never see the how or the heart of the why - we only see the madness. There is no great love that he is fighting for. It's not about the money - he sets that on fire. He values nothing. He loses himself.
i'll say what i said before, which is just that the death of Heath Ledger reminded us that life is a fragile precious thing. We were reminded that even our heroes ache with problems of pain. And medicine - or medication - it has the power to bring healing, and it also has the power to bring death.
Back in January, in real life, a father brother actor son named Heath Ledger lost his life. We don't know how he lived but it seems he died alone.
At some point, before we meet him, The Joker loses his mind. He lives alone.
Even Batman, the hero... He is carrying so much. And i think the weight we find in him... it's the ways that he's alone. He is driven by loss. His secret life means that he is known by few. There is a woman and he loves her but his choices keep him far from her.
As for us and now, the movie screen is traded for a computer screen, and the story being told is real and ours. Less clapping but just as much at stake. There's no genius ending to this writing, just the simple thing that we keep coming back to:
We weren't meant to be alone.
We need other people.
We need a friend.
We need a gang.
We need a family.
Hope is real.
Help is real.
Hope is real.
Help is real.
Those Scrabble games, the apartments warm and kind - we need to know that they really do exist. That the whole thing is possible. That life can be good. i am fighting to believe this in my own life. i have a long way to go but i'm learning that it's worth fighting for.
Peace to you from across the miles.
jamie But you are l o v e d.
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Posted: Mon Aug 04, 2008 4:24 pm
You might not r e a l i z e it... Friday, August 01, 2008
PURPOSE FOR THE PAIN: New Video & Blog from Renee.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BU-XQ69qXSg
From Renee:
The entry below is taken from the first page in my book, Purpose for the Pain. It is the beginning of one of my first journals. Sitting here reflecting on where I was then, and where I am now, I hardly recognize the girl that wrote these words…
Scratch and Dent Sale ('03)
I handed you the key to let you in
You never told me you wouldn't
Leave anything standing
(You left nothing standing)
You trashed everything and
Took all that I had
The sad thing is I would have
Given it to you if you asked
(Why didn't you ask)?
So now I sit here amidst the rubble
And I think that I blend in
My heart broken- in pieces
Scattered meaninglessly across the floor
A pathetic trail that leads only to you
(And I won't follow)
And I'm damaged goods
Mark the price down
Red line sale- fifty percent off
(Cause no one buys)
Who will want me now?
But go ahead to your trophy room and add one more to your collection
Another check on your pricy
Shopping list- and now on to the next item…
(Is that all I am?)
…It's hard for me to recall where I was then, timelines, sequence of events, details…they all blur together for me. I do remember that I was used and abused, willingly and wrongfully, then tossed aside. If He, or She, wasn't hurting me, then I was. I had taken all of my insecurities and allowed everyone and anyone to reinforce the thoughts and names I had given myself. I longed for justice, for redemption, but it was such a foreign concept…
I look at my life now, at the wounds that have healed, and the scars left behind, and I realize how far I have come in the past few years. Today I don't view myself as devalued, I am not "leftovers" for someone to pick through. I have fought to value myself, first and foremost, and in turn, have learned how to value others as well.
For whatever reason, I have this odd analogy in my head, a picture of the girl that was, and the girl that is becoming.
I recently moved into a new home, and I bought a white rug for the living room floor. Well, naturally, since I loved it so much, my dog decided it would be a good idea to poop on it. Not just once, but multiple times. The pure white was spotted in dark smelly brown… the girl I was before would have compared it to her. I didn't know how to clean it. The old me would have given up, throw the rug away, felt like a failure and hated the dog. I felt lost and overwhelmed. It felt so symbolic. Except, this time around, the old me didn't have a voice loud enough to make me sit there in defeat. I acknowledged that I needed help, and a few days later I got my rug back, spotless and beautiful as ever. As if nothing ever happened…redemption. I choose to believe that nothing is beyond redemption today. As stupid as a rug may sound, it signifies so much more for me. The wounds and stains that have found their way into my heart, are slowly being cleansed. My heart is being made new. I would have never imagined the opportunities that have presented themselves in the past few years, or the people who have loved me along the way.
As scary as it is to put my journals out for the world to read, to let my heart be laid bare for all to see, it excites me to think that perhaps someone will journey through that process of healing with me in those pages, and maybe find a piece of themselves. A wound they identify with, a myth they believed about themselves, and hopefully, a tangible example that it is possible to come out on the other side. In my following blogs I will be pulling different pages from my book and giving some insight to where I was when I wrote them. I'm excited to share the insights I have gained and the wisdom that has been imparted to me, and the joy I have found in recovery. My journals have been described as " a slow drip", that hope we so fondly speak of, didn't just shine through all of my pain from day one, it gradually trickled through, it was a process. I can't say enough what a privilege it is to share what I have found with you. But you are l o v e d.
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