Some tweets i chose not to retweet but might comment on later....i will be updating this post every
Writing is a socially acceptable form of getting naked in public. PAULO COELHO #writing
ok...so this one gets your attention, eh? (I sound like a Canadian, yup, grew up pretty close to dem der folks up nort, ya...)
What I think the author means here, which any kindred spirited writer would also understand, has nothing to do with actual nakedness but with the extreme vulnerability that comes with the art of writing. Of course a personal blog would be the highest extreme of emotional nakedness in terms of writing, but even sharing a painstakingly, heartfelt piece of fiction can also bring one to their quivering knees when they realize that they just put their heart out there for critics to trample on, or to praise.
I know what it feels like to get trampled on. I did not set this blog as a platform to try to change the world or to set myself up as a perfect person without any flaws. I set it up as a place where I could be real. I originally shared the url in one place online, but as I entered into an especially intense and emotionally dark time of my life, I began pouring out my heart into these posts. Often these expressions were dark, or shocking. I'm just being real with how I feel. But I'm getting the impression that my transparency is not something that is tolerated by some, so I must dive underneath the dark waters and find a new outlet for my true feelings. And so, I'm sad to say this, am crying as i type, but I must discontinue this sonar blog, and find another place to find emotional healing through my writing. I will be starting a new blog somewhere else online, open to only those whom I personally invite to read. A good friend of mine who has experienced a truamatic event similar to my own also keeps a blog like this, where she can vaguely post about her ups and downs as she, too, navigates the dark, murky waters of emotional healing that must come before we can truly be free again. Friend, you will be the first to know when I start my new blog! (I'll email you if I don't see you first!! :)
Some people just don't understand this, and it hurts me more than words can express. Since I won't be around here much longer, let me finish with something my friend shared with me, an interpretation of psalm 55, personalized for those victims of this type of abuse. Read it if you dare. And know, that this type of abuse has a horrifying effect on its victims and will often, like in my case, "silence" its victims for life. Unable to decide for themselves. Willing to give in to any kind of pressure, just to be accepted. Making "safe" decisions that didn't involve risking their emotions or need for real love. Because they don't believe in love anymore. Losing their sense of identity. Always feeling guilty, no matter how many times they've prayed, and how many times counselors tell me that it wasn't my fault. I am bawling now. What was once my source of solace, to put down my thoughts and tears, is now once again being silenced, as it cannot be tolerated in this culture. Puts me back in that dark place where the abuse began. Where I lost my voice. The first time. Obviously not the last.
http://www.bradhambrick.com/psalm-55-personalized-for-sexual-abuse/
In his booklet Recovering from Child Abuse: Healing and Hope for Victims David Powlison identified Psalms 55, 56, and 57 as particularly good Psalms for helping victims of abuse put their experience into words. The Psalms were meant by God to help us put our experiences into words, but for many people (especially those who were “silenced” after their abuse) this can be difficult.
The example below is an attempt to rewrite Psalm 55 to put the experience of sexual abuse at the hands of a family member or trusted friend into words. It is advised to read Psalm 55 in your Bible first. Then read this post. Afterwards you might try to rewrite it to allow God to give words to your experience.
Here is this exercise in a printable PDF format: Psalm 55 Personalized for Sexual Abuse
1. Oh God please hear me. Don’t pretend that this is not happening. I need you!
2. Be silent no longer. Say something. Let me know you are there. I am overwhelmed as I cry and convulse over what happened to me. I can’t eat, sleep, or think.
3. My abuser made such awful noises. He took pleasure in my pain and degradation. He over-powered me. There was nothing I could do. He must hate me to keep doing this. What have I done?! What could cause such hatred and disregard?!
4. My soul quakes. Heart-break feels romantic compared to this. This is worse than death.
5. Panic attacks and the fear of panic attacks assail me. My body tremors in rebellion against me. I can’t control my movements. Fear divides my heart, soul, mind, body, and will to attack them separately.
6. Like Jenny in Forest Gump, I want to be a bird and fly away. I want to escape to a place of rest.
7. That place of rest would have to be far away, but there is one, right? I would travel however far, by whatever means, if only You promise there is somewhere I can go.
8. If you would just tell me the direction I would leave now. I would drive all night. I want peace more than sleep. Without peace sleep is useless. Sleep is just part of the storm with its nightmares and waking up realizing I’ve got to fake it through another day.
9. Take justice! Do to them what they have done to my soul. Don’t let them multiply my shame by talking of this deed. Don’t let them mock me or worse talk like nothing happened.
10. I can’t believe I live in a world/country where this is “common.” It’s always being reported on the news or another documentary. Every time I hear it I am reminded. The pain echoes; worse it flashes back.
11. There is a whole industry of sexual degradation in our culture – porn. Its bigger than the NFL. They write and glorify stories like mine. There is an audience who pays for it, even with children.
12. But I can’t blame culture or an “industry” for my pain. It is no stranger who dined on my soul. It was not an enemy who was getting even. If it were, then I could be more protected. I could appeal to family and friends for help… and they might believe me.
13. But I knew him! I trusted him! My trust was used against me. My trust was the Trojan horse that let him in. How was I supposed to know?
14. We had so many good talks before that. We went to church together. We prayed together. He taught me Bible lessons. How much of that was a lie? What does it mean to have your soul betrayed by a friend and a “friend of God”?
15. May the death they have sparked in me explode in their own life and them live to experience it. Oh, that they would know the full degree of pain it was possible for them to create. Let their heart vomit its content into their own soul.
16. But I call to you God. No one is capable of handling what is before me except You. It takes omnipotence to overpower my pain, omnipresence to get your arms around it, and omniscience to fathom it. Only You can help me.
17. My pain is before me all day and at night when I am not sleeping. I don’t know what else to do but cry to You. So You hear from me a lot. Everything in my life reminds me of my pain and my pain reminds me of my need for you constantly.
18. You are the one who keeps soldiers safe in the midst of battles. I am in the fight of my life and won’t make it without You. My abusers, pain, memories, and fears out number me greatly.
19. God I trust the lies and deception do not outlive You. You hear, see, and know the truth. This sin was as arrogant against You as it was ravaging to me. He will not stand or smirk in Your presence.
20. My father/uncle/friend attacked me and violated the trust of our friendship and, with it, my willingness to allow anyone to get close again.
21. I replay his words over and over again, but cannot figure out what I should have heard. The terror of his intentions was hidden from so many. Were all of his compliments intentional instruments of death or were some of them sincere?
22. This was not my fault. God calls me righteous as His child. He asks me to cry to Him. He is not ashamed of me. God is angered by anyone who would shun or condemn me for what happened to me.
23. But God is more angered by my rapist. Sexual predators will answer for their sin. Yet in His fury against them God is still safe for me. I will come near, leave my shame, look in Your eyes, and have my trust restored.
And now, I will sign off. Thank you for following me on jennerositysonar. Thank you, especially, those who listened quietly, wept with me, prayed for me. Understood that this is just a dark journey I'm on right now, not who I know I am in Christ Jesus. If I can't be real here, or among fellow believers, than where do I go? For now I will look for a quiet place online to start a new blog. Part 2 of my journey. If you are kind and caring and would like to continue following my blog in private, post a comment or email me. I'll keep you updated. thank you. goodnight, and goodbye.
this sub has sunk.
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