I know it feels messy, scary, and loud. I know it feels as though you are tainted – that you will stain everything within your reach. But no amount of running, hiding, or hand scrubbing will take this feeling away. What if you could reach out and intentionally glide those saturated hands across a canvas. What would we see? What could we learn? Maybe freedom comes from releasing the story that exists within. What might our world look like if we let our colors be seen?
It knows where to find me Clinging and gripping Onto something hardly tangible It hovers nearby Waiting and knowing Its presence My reminder That what I grasp for Does not belong to me That what I need Exceeds what I can wish for
They filled your mind with promises An array of enticing colors Leading you up a perilous climb Achieving their desired seclusion
They lined your path with shackles Disguised as your own choices Led to a room with no exits, teetering On a place demanding submission
Close enough to rescue that its light Shines like a beacon upon you Yet others cannot see what they do not wish to see Leaving you doused in invisibility
They handed you poison dressed up as a toy An undetectable trap It feels heavy in your arms Yet you dismiss its discomfort Just as you were instructed
You were chosen You were special You stood out to them in some way
You hold their secrets Quiet and steady Not letting them see How it makes you tremble
You were never meant to understand The position they put you in Blind obedience is the Tower they constructed In the labyrinth you now reside
This weight placed upon you Was never your choice Its ensnaring complexity Contrived specifically for you To lure you in and then slowly break You into scattered pieces
I see your pain tucked in deep beneath your Outward strength and courage Far from their grip you stand frozen in time Afraid to step down and see The sight of your suffering Might carry its own weight somehow worse than living in it
How can you know that it is safer below Than the misery you are wrapped in How can I ask more from you Than what you have already given
I recently started a creative project. I have a room in my house with empty walls, begging for artwork. After thoughtful consideration of a variety of ideas I decided to dedicate the walls of this room to scenic memorable places. I began sorting through photos of all of my favorite trips and places I have visited, making note of my top contenders. Then I decided to take this project one step further with my plan to now paint each of these places. Painting is very cathartic for me and has provided opportunities for expression in a way words cannot always capture. (See how artistic expression has been a part of my ongoing healing journey on my Art page).
This painting took me away to southeastern France where the striking peaks of the Alps surround the beautiful still waters of Lac d’ Annecy. Years ago my husband and I spent two weeks cycling through France while we followed along and cheered on the professional racers of the Tour de France. On one particularly long bike ride we ascended the 5,010 ft. Col de la Forclaz to wait and watch the racers climb up and over the summit. After the flurry of helicopters, racers, and team cars passed by we then descended the mountain and found ourselves pedaling alongside the bright blue/green waters of Lac d’ Annecy. I recall briefly stopping at this location where colorful flowers filled the outdoor seating of a restaurant. It was a beautiful spot for a photo break, and it also gave me a chance to calm my nerves after speeding down the steep, narrow switchbacks of the alps on my bike.
As my first and only experience in France, it was amazing on this trip to not only visit the iconic sights in Paris but also to have the unique opportunity to explore various and more remote parts of the country on a bike, soaking in the beauty and charm of the many small towns we ventured through. It was truly an adventure I will never forget.
She enters, inching her way forward into the darkness, unsure of what she will encounter. She is here fueled with purpose and armed with selflessness. Routinely she will remind herself of this in an effort to remain focused on her mission, knowing that any deviation may lead her into the grip of what she fears most.
One small step at a time she creeps, grasping tightly onto the cloak she is draped in. This cloak offers her protection – her armor – her shield. It conceals all of the parts that exist inside of her, providing shelter and safety from the elements that exist here.
She feels these parts shiver as she ventures deeper into this place. Each step awakens a different part, sending small electrical impulses creeping, jolting, and flashing their way through her.
She wishes to peek beneath the cloak to settle all of these disrupted parts. Yet she fears that unbuttoning her shield will expose them to unimaginable harm. They must be protected, and this place is not safe for them to emerge.
Instead she holds tightly onto her cloak, wrapping it fully around herself, hoping that the parts underneath can also feel this firm embrace. Gripping, squeezing, and inching along she continues – one tiny step at a time. This is her responsibility. This is what she needs. All she can do is hold herself tightly together until she exits the lion’s den.
You are my trusted companion. You keep me composed – buttoned up – sealed off from harmful intrusions. Your presence allows me to appear calm and confident. You are my protector – my shield. You contain all of me in a way that makes others unable to notice the turbulence beneath the surface. When other parts of me are screaming for attention in moments where I cannot tend to them, I can feel you quietly shushing, assuring, and nudging them aside.
You were created out of necessity, and I am grateful for your presence.
I ask a lot from you. I place us into settings that demand you to work overtime. I feel the strain this places on you. I feel your exhaustion in the way this leads to physical ailments and urges. I feel your need for relief – your need to come up for air.
How can I offer you a break? What can I do for you now to let you know that it is safe to relax a little?
I am not asking you to leave. Trust that I recognize my need for you. Instead I wish to grant you a healthy release. I need to find a way to let you rest and recover after placing these persistent demands on you. We are safe now. You can rest. We can let the other parts that you have fiercely and effectively protected come forward a bit. It is time to lean into what they need to share with us now. Can you soften a bit and let them step forward? Can you drape yourself around them like a warm blanket, letting them know that you can hold, protect, and support them while also letting them carefully creep forward to whisper their messages? They need your support. They need your protection. They just need you to loosen your grip ever so slightly so they can climb up out of the darkness. You can still be their shield while also allowing them to peek out into the light.
As the tide rises the broken pieces are stirred and awoken once again.
The earth beneath her begins to shake. The broken pieces rattle like shards of glass clanging, scraping, cutting into the parts that have been so tenderly cared for that she has worked so hard to heal.
She tries to shield herself. Yet the more she tenses in self protection the more those pieces seem to cut into her weakening her defenses.
Her confidence and security begin to shudder and shrink transformation looming against her will. She struggles in resistance. Yet there she slips back into that familiar skin becoming the part of herself that she wishes to forget.
It chases her back into hiding deep down to a place that should not exist anymore. There it tries to convince her to stay small, silent, alone, and broken.
An automatic inevitability each time the tide rushes in. If only the waves could quiet down and the tide retreat long enough for her to catch her breath before returning once more.