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Odds and Ends No. 10

Hunger struck. I was about to leave for my
next EMDR session. Not enough time for
cheap Chinese. Nor did I want to wait until

after two. Sometimes the smell of grease
calls to you. I was leaving a little later than
usual. I headed down 67th Ave. I was going

to go straight, but the smell of grease
overpowered me; I turned left at the light at
Happy Valley instead and went through a

McDonald’s drive through. I drove and
munched two small burgers and fries all the
way to my appointment with ten minutes to

spare. Sweet ice tea, too. After my session,
my car still smelled like French fries. So
much for my grease fix for now.

I can say “happily” or “sadly” as it depends
on what has happened to you. Sadly (or
happily) what happens to us shapes who we

are, how we act, and who we become. A
history of abuse produces sad outcomes
because you cannot learn to make good

choices without help and healing. This new
series of EMDR sessions is based on a newly
revealed abuse when I was twelve years old.

Oddly, that abuse provided the base model
for how I was to live my life. I had no idea! If
you’ve been abused, get help, get EMDR so

you can live with peace and joy from now on.
EMDR is working for me to disassociate me
from the severe trauma of abuse in my

childhood. Life is unfair but getting better.
I was supposed to post yesterday. It didn’t
happen. My thoughts after EMDR were too

colorful, too big. I couldn’t function, focus, or
think. [Learning that you were left naked in a
wood line and beat up as a kid impacts your

whole life; whether you remember the memory
or not.] EMDR is helping me remember. I’m
tired; I’ve been running my whole life, playing

capture-the-flag over and over again since I
was twelve. I didn’t capture flags then, now,
or anytime in between. I’ve been running like

forever to save my life. I’ve never stopped
running so EMDR tells me. That is how
insidious abuse is; I didn’t know I was running.

Coffee was so good this morning that I’ve been
sipping my second cup of Joe cold as I write this.
May make a fresh pot of Folgers. Drank it all

week and still not sure if I like it. Looks like I’ll
install Xmind and trash Trello. Mind mapping
helps me see my thoughts better than that or a

spreadsheet, etc. I could use a renewed mind!
(EMDR is the tool for my healing along the way.)
I decided to grind my espresso beans for a small

pot of regular coffee. It is done; I can smell it
from here. (Thank you, Father, for restoring me
and for the cup of coffee and lunch I’m about

to have.) Bologna or the end of the roast beef?
It bears repeating: no one deserves abuse. Oh,
and I’m living proof that there is life after abuse.

Categories: Poetry

Tagged as:


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.)

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