The eclectic method of writing will always stay with me, as that is the way I speak. I don’t know about you, but I get very bored when I read something, and it sounds as if the author/writer/speaker is regurgitating the Oxford dictionary, or as in the South Africa, the HAT (see I know stuff). 😊
It could be due to an overload of information, and at times needing a simple yet entertaining read.
Why? Hiehiehie (giggles uncontrollably), I was told I need to be more professional. My darling, the corporate world could not beat that in me, for donkey years… and it will not change now – sheez, I sound resistant, no, just my beautiful authentic self.
Alice Miller said: “The human spirit is virtually indestructible, and its ability to rise from the ashes remains as long as the body draws breath.”
Keeping the faith:
“Spirituality was not a word I knew or understood until my twenties (you know, they called them hippies in the day, flower children… stuff).
Before I knew this “word” I knew rape, abuse, loneliness, before I had acquired the education and strength to call my abusers what they are were, before all of this, there was a moment… a moment within the first
violation where I became aware, primally aware, that I was more than my body, more than the body abusing me.
I became aware as though being told a secret by a voice way inside my head, that I was someone who was important, that I mattered for reasons that might NEVER be uttered to me by another soul in this lifetime.
I became aware that no one might ever save me, defend me, believe me….
Within that “life” of the walking dead, within the unbearable existence of the aftermath of abuse, the one thing that kept me alive, was the voice in my head telling me that even if I died, even if I died while being abused, or after the abuse, I would have been important…. More important than I would ever know.
This voice was born the first day I was raped and speaks to me every day since then….
Some days I can barely hear this voice above the noise of my own blames and the deep pull to let my own pain take me and die… but she persists.
I don’t know where she came from. But I am glad she has journeyed to here with me.
Her name, I believe… Is Spirit”.
“whether you have a traditional concept of a god, believe there is a life spirit coursing through us all, or simply trust your own intuition, having faith in something more powerful and constant than your shifting emotions can be a great comfort to you, as you journey the path of healing.”
Just remember that any religious faith or spiritual group are not substitutes for healing. Rather, in my opinion, tools for healing, sources from which you can draw comfort, strength, patience and inspiration….
Keeping the faith…. The strongest, the easiest to lose….