Healing from trauma sometimes feels like a Tsunami. While science can predict the path of hurricanes and other severe weather with some degree of accuracy, the projections change daily. The same holds for healing from trauma. Just when you think things have settled, another wave of memories overwhelm you. In the sonnet below, I use the storm metaphor to convey hope to the inner child who sometimes fears the next wave of memories and chaos.
Written several years ago for my friend, Cheryl Luke’s Blog, this blog speaks to my heart this morning. I don’t have all the answers, but I know one thing, I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Even if that keeps me from drowning in negative thinking for one minute, I am content. I hope the post will provide hope for someone who needs to hear the truth of who they are from God’s perspective.
I just completed the draft of my memoir. Writing about my father brought the pain and sorrow to the surface once again. With Father’s Day approaching this weekend, I want to revisit a post I wrote two years ago. Perhaps my words will comfort other survivors who struggle with the celebrating Father’s Day.
The book of Psalms is a favorite of mine because David and others bare their heart and soul to the Lord, but always end with praise and thanksgiving for God’s steadfast love. This week I turned to three passages to uplift, encourage and strengthen my soul. I hope they provide the same to you.
Sometimes when God touches me, the honesty seems too much. Sometimes, I don’t want Him to see the “real me”. The truth is He always sees the real me.
Writing the sonnets helped me put a lifetime into a few lines of poetry and laid the foundation for writing my memoir. As I near the end of the first revision of my draft and prepare to send copies to beta readers, I decided to repost the last sonnet of the sequence because it expresses the hope I want my readers to experience when they read my story.
“Sonnet V-At Last I Stand Approved” illustrates my acceptance of my true worth.
I wanted to change, but I felt powerless. How could I change and stop the pattern of behavior that was destroying me?
The loss of a loved one leaves words unsaid.
Writing provides one way to say what time and death did not allow.
I love you. Nothing will fill the hole in my heart. No one knows how much I loved you. I do not know if you realized how much I loved you. I am so sorry that I got annoyed at you. I hope u knew how much I loved you. I am talking to the air. I do not know how to do this, my luv. I do not know how to live without you. I will, I know, but now, I do not know how.
Asking “why?” became my bargaining tool. I cannot count the times I asked that question. I asked John in my letters to him. I asked God, but there was never a response. The result was many days of creating reasons that made sense to me and creating scenarios that would make the outcome different.
“I have cried more and more intensely than I have in years. I have realized that the deep sorrow of grief will not be pushed away forever. Oh I tried by letting it bubble out for brief moments thinking, “I can do this.” Short blasts of tears predict the eruption to come. Body tremors warn of the pain within. Fatigue warns that all is not well in the soul. Then the deep sorrow and anguish of grief erupts. The eruption will not stop until the depth of pain is released.