Quiet, reflective day after my third session
of EMDR yesterday. I’m exhausted really.
Feel like I went through World War II in a
single day. It seems my brain was on a
mission to seek out what I didn’t know
about the details of my abuse. How did I
live through that? Why am I still alive?
By God’s grace alone. His love prevailed
when there was none, when I lived daily
in the pit of Hell. Okay, enough of that.
Better I should talk about coffee. At my
advanced age to learn who did what is
not fun. But necessary if healing is to
follow. Being Friday, the day started off
with Gevalia, my Wally coffee. Stronger
than our usual, but wonderfully mild in
its own way. She drank one cup; I drank
two. She talked; I listened. (Good choice.)
There were things heavy on her heart as
we sipped and munched. She her toast;
me my matzo. EMDR is a workout for the
brain. So exhaustion is expected. More
so than I thought. I sat studying and staring
at my laptop until noon. How perverted, how
sick is sexual abuse! But politicians don’t
change. Arrogance prevails. Promises of
change come and go. But only the power
of God can change or heal the human heart,
restore to health, joy, and peace. No guru or
self-help book in the world can fix a thing.
Man-made band-aids don’t last.
Dinner last night and lunch today for me
was bologna. A comfort food for me. Spicy
mustard, provolone, and a kosher dill pickle
spear on the side. Oh yes, and a very strong
cup of tea today. I need all the help I can get
today. Man will never stop trying to do what
only God can do. Man will never stop trying
to stop God from what only God can do.
Good luck. God wins. I read the end of the
Book. When she gets home it will be our
favorite Friday dinner. Pizza and my salad.
Looking at the clock, I can fit an espresso in.
(I missed my window two days in a row.
Hellish week. I deserve an espresso!)
It is hard to end a post when you didn’t
know where you were at the start. Some
days are like that; you have hope, feel God’s
unceasing love in the midst of horrific pain.
It is okay. That is why God gave espresso.
And a cookie. And blessings when I least
expected it. God’s love for me cuts the hell
out of Hell. Time for coffee. And a cookie.
Poet, Writer, US Army (Retired)
I dreamed of writing when I was a youngster. The love of books and writing may have helped to dull the pain of severe sexual abuse as I was sexually abused by two men at my father’s place of work from age 8 to 12 or so. I learned about this for the first time when I was 50 years old. So, as a boy, reading was the only place I had to go to. My fantasy world was better and safer than my real world. I loved reading and writing.
Reading books and writing poetry are a joy to me still and are an important part of my life. (See my About Me page on my blog for the complete profile.)