leaving the security of familiar coping mechanisms is terrifying. Especially when nothing seems to ease the fear and pain like what I knew. When the “new life” became difficult or not what I expected, I wanted to return to the comfortable. I wanted what was comfortable even though it was dangerous and painful.
self-worth
This sonnet describes my internal conflict between the truth and a behavior pattern that seems impossible to break.
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.
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?
As I struggled to comprehend how God could love me, I struggled with an equally troubling question, “How could God love the family members who hurt me?”
Fearfully and Wonderfully Made In this blog, I describe how I come face to face with my distorted self-image. I knew the truth, but still felt unlovable. One simple change altered who I saw when I looked in the mirror.
This sonnet describes my internal conflict between the truth and a behavior pattern that seems impossible to break.
As I write my memoir I experience grief for the child that never knew love. While the grief I feel for my younger self is different than the grief I felt when John died, the pain is the same. The emptiness I felt after John’s death reminds me of the emptiness I felt as a child. Reviewing this post from several years ago reminds of the solution to the emptiness. I thought it might help others who struggle with the loss of a loved one or who struggle with the loss of innocence through abuse.
