The damage left undone….


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Broken! Crushed! Trampled!

No light! No dark! No space!

Empty! Barren! Void!

Always, always dismay!

This hollow part of you, is you, but the damage is left undone….

All because of a fateful day when love no longer won

Would death, would oblivion not be more enticing?

Liberty? Freedom? Release?

Beckoning, pleading, appealing

To take this life……..Please

But the embers of life are still with you, the ashes not yet cold

Death you so desire has left your wish untold

For the light that shines within you

And the damage still undone

Is saying clear, your time is now, is here

Your time is to be someone.


There is no going back….


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How do you pick up the pieces of a life once lived??

When your life stopped?  When you awaken and know that you are not the person you once were?  When the hurt tore your soul and ripped it into pieces and scattered it to the wind?  When the darkness suffocated your life breath and left you tiny and broken?

And you try!  You try so hard, but you live a lie to protect, protect those close to you.  Because those close to you do not know.  Those close to you want you to be the same.  Those close to you want you to be whole again.  But the dreams you once dreamt are no longer.  The world does not look the same.  You look with new eyes, yet eyes tainted by the pain that could have taken your life.

And I tried to go back!

But when the blow came, when the silent cry filled the morning, when I was smashed into a thousand shattered reflections and the girl in the mirror no longer was one.  Each shard, each arrow of pain, scattered and blown.  Each tiny piece a part of me, a tiny image of who I had been en-captured in each and every fragment.

And as the glass disintegrated, as it was smashed apart,  the remnants were torn from their foundation.  The deafening clash that penetrated the silence of my mind, the initial boom of the implosion that was to fill my spirit, my understanding and blind me with the light.

And it hurts, the light it hurts!  The crystal ribbons stab my eyes and millions of diminutive slivers cut through the air, slicing and penetrating deep into my being.  Each splinter stinging and biting its way to my very core.

And the sound?  The sound it hurts….

The melody of thousands of shards of me chinkle, chime and tinkle, ricocheting prisms of scattered rainbow crystals and flashing strikes like a resplendent chandelier caught in a gust of summer breeze.

Then silence, total silence….

And then the dark!

For there is no going back when truth implodes

and the light is gone…..

Christmas past….


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Icy sparkles of frost embroidered over the world, the whiteness illuminating empty branches of charcoal against the midnight of the sky.  The intricate designs spun as webs of deceit, aspects once unseen now enlightened by the cold.  Silence of darkness embracing depth of wintertime.

Smouldering embers, shimmering through the smoky haze emanating from the crackle of blistering logs on the hearth.  Crisp outdoor freshness of pine smeared with the tangy zest of orange and the snap of peppermint.  Toasty warmth of cinnamon nestling the sultry, creamy aroma of steaming cups of chocolate mixed with sweet, syrupy marshmallows.

The dancing sparkle of brightness, twinkling against tiny teddy bears, painted wooden rocking horses and twisted red striped candy canes decorating the festive, evergreen tree.  The incandescent glow of a star radiating hope from the loftiest place.  Crunch of paper enveloping the surprises, snuggled beneath the fern coloured needles, eagerly awaiting the moment they would be unwrapped.

The magic of the dusting of footprints and the jingle of the bells breaking the penetrating iciness and the hush of the peaceful dark.  The tiny gasps and whispers of excitement, in anticipation of the awaited visitor bringing wishes and dreams to all good children on this one night.

The young, heavily pregnant mother cradling her two young children, both expectantly watching her every move and waiting for the moment.

Christmas past…..

Look again with new eyes……

The two young children clutching and holding their mother afraid to let go.  The young, heavily pregnant mother hoping with all of her heart that this time….. this time someone would listen, that this time would be the last time.

The crackle of the radio!  The men talking and then laughing together!  The glances! The blue of the lights flashing through the curtained window!

And that young mother knowing that this day would not be the last time.  This day she would not be rescued.  This day no one would listen and no one would hear.  This day her hope was gone.

But today is not that day!  And today, that not so young mother knows that, that day was a Christmas past…..

A broken soul…


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The eyes are the window to the soul” Unknown Author

If you look closely, look carefully, if you search then you will see.

For it is in the eyes.  Eyes that never lie.  Eyes that say what you are thinking, what you are feeling. Eyes that lead a path straight to the heart.

What is desired the eyes will tell.  The true beauty of a person captured there.

I would look.  And I would search, but I would not see.  I would marvel, I would fascinate as I looked into the exquisite starless blackness.  The swirling depths of such hypnotic intensity drawing me closer, refusing to let go.  Time would cease to exist.  Life would stand still for a moment.

And I would let my soul be taken and fall.  Fall in the dark depths of a cavern to entwine with a soul so connected to, yet so different from mine.  Never sure as to whether I would land or whether the falling would become part of me.

The intensity of that moment still makes me gasp as though my life breath has been drained from me.  Those moments I thought I would never come back from.  Those moments I was unsure as to whether I was no longer awake but sleeping in a dream so deep.  A dream that I did not want to wake from.  A dream that consumed me.

Those wakening moments still slip into my day.  Still pull me from reality into a dark, velvet, silent world that drowns my soul.

And I question!  I question every day!

Did I glimpse a part of my own soul buried deep?  A soul dark and terrifying?  A soul tormented?  A soul that left me powerless, struggling to hold on to life?

Were we two lost souls?  Damaged and lonely?  Connected because of our past?  Because of the love we once shared?  That first love shared between teenagers?

First love?  That love which blinds the eye and throws life into confusion.  Love which ferociously pirouettes at dizzying heights in an agonising whirlwind of passion and ecstasy, lighting up the sky like a rainbow of burning embers of dust hitting the Earth’s atmosphere.

Love that can leave the heart feeling as though it is being ripped from your very being. Love that is like no other.  Love that can leave a heart and a soul totally broken.

Or did I, when looking into those dark eyes, see a soulless depth that needed to tear mine away from me?

And I ask – what if I had of stayed??

Black and white!


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Where are the colours?  Where are the hues?  The shades with their gradients of darkness?  The tints with their degrees of light?  Where is the spectrum of chromatics that radiate beauty upon the world.  Where is the rainbow with its continuous spectrum of colour made up of sparkles of water droplets?  The rainbow with its spectral smearing of primary luminosity?

All he saw was black and white!  Right and wrong!  No in-betweens!  No grey areas!  Yin and Yang!  In perfect balance!  Right and wrong!  And I was wrong!

And when you are wrong you need to be put right.  You need to understand why you are wrong.  What makes you wrong.   You need to understand how you need to be put right.  And you believe!  Everyday you believe!

Because everyday you are told to believe, to dream, to hope.  Everyday you are told to listen to your heart and to listen to the person who knows you better than anyone.  The person who is there to take care of you, to look after you and to keep you safe.

And the questioning starts, the doubts, the uncertainty.  You feel yourself taken apart.  But although you are scared, you know that you are being looked after.  You know that you are safe.  The promise was made to never hurt you.  The promise to fix your mind like your heart.

My mind did not need fixing!  My mind could see the colours, the spectrum of light.  My mind could see the in-betweens, the grey areas.  My mind did not see the world in black and white.

My mind did not need fixing!  I did not need fixing!  I was not broken!

Not until the damage had been done!

And today?  Today I look back and I smile because it was not me that was wrong.




Truth hurts!


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There are no excuses!  There are no justifications!  A game is a game!  And a game played with a life?  A game played without someone knowing, without their consent?  A game with no rules!

And the point of the game?  To boost an ego?  To gain points?  To avenge?  As punishment?

I have analysed, over and over again, each and every page of my diary looking for a clue.  But the answers are based on emotion, based on my own thoughts, not on the truth that could only be spoken by the ones who began the game.

But what good would the truth do?  Would it take me back to being strong and happy?  Would it give me back the two years taken from me?  Would it stop me crying any less?  Would it give me back my faith?  My morals?  My values?

Would it mean that my lost confidence and self esteem would suddenly reappear?   Would it stop the looks of pity?  Would the truth change the past?

Truth hurts!  And yes better to know the truth than to live a lie, but I had already found that out and the answers to my questions would not lessen the pain.

So I lived alone with the pain, the dark and the fear.  And every day I longed for someone just to be there, to hold my hand so that I didn’t slip away.

But truth hurts!  And truth is when life gets difficult, when someone is in pain, when someone suffers we do not know what to do, what to say, what not to say.  So instead of doing anything we do nothing, we avoid, cross the road, stop the calls and stop listening for fear of hearing the truth and not being able to deal with it.

A year on, I look back and wonder why and how I didn’t give up.  I think it could have been my rebellious side fighting back and if that is the case then deep down inside I am still me!  And that makes me smile because it means I was never truly lost I just wandered off of the path for a moment in time.

But one thing I have learnt – time!  Time spent holding a hand and listening is the most precious gift you can give and can be the difference when the question is asked ‘am I worth life?’

Darkest before dawn….


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Two years ago it was a very different story.  Two years ago strong, happy, confident and very independent – I had survived the first battle of the war that would rage, a war that would take many casualties and would leave a silent destruction and devastation in its wake.

A war that went on to take the morals, values and faith that had shaped my life and would leave me a numb, empty shell.  A war played out by the very people who promised to keep me safe and never hurt me.

You see underneath that very strong, happy, independent woman was a child.  A little girl let loose on a world that could be cruel to someone so very vulnerable.  A little girl looking for someone to love her.  A little girl who trusted too easily.  A little girl who believed that the people who had been in her life for so many years would not use her to play a game that nearly took her life.

That little girl had stumbled into the light after spending so long in the dark and just needed someone to hold her hand to guide her towards the path, not to be the foot that would trip her up.

Was the game premeditated?  Or did they too stumble into something which like a child hurtling down a slide proved impossible to stop?  The consequences never considered?

Questions that have no answers.  Answers that lay hidden.  Answers that cannot change the past.

And the past?  I look back with new eyes, detached emotion, a girl in a mirror, a girl that was not me!

But the tears still come, tears for a life lost and tears for a life changed.

I am told that things happen for a reason!  I don’t believe that!  Things happen!  There is no rhyme, no reason, it is just life!  And how much we love life gives us a reason, a reason to carry on.

And my reason to carry on?  Somewhere deep inside there was hope.  At the time I couldn’t see it but now, reading back in the diaries I wrote day after day to stop the torment in my head, I can.  A conflict that screamed inside me, wanting to let go, to give in but at the same time a desperation to live.

That desperation took over the day I held the cold blade to my wrist.  Desperation told me to turn and walk away.  Desperation gave me the strength to go on.  Desperation gave me reason and reason gave me hope!

And my hope?  My hope that one day my smile would return and I would learn to live life once more.

The photo


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The photo!  Happy, laughing me!  The sky the purest, truest blue!  The waves crashing against the sandy buff of the beach.  The sea of teal and sapphire rippling and shimmering, then smashing against the jagged rocks of the cliff face.  Hazy glimmers of heat rising up, reaching like curling fingers back towards the sun that had sent them.

And there I was happy and laughing, balancing on a surf board that I had no intentions of taking to the sea!

But the camera never lies!  And later I would sob tears that would emanate from the heart that had been torn apart.  Tears that told another story.

For beneath the happy smile was the skeletal figure that looked drawn, aged and haggard.  Wasted muscles, translucent skin and darkened eyes.  A figure that had once been full had now become a shadow.

And the tears were cried not because of the past but because of what the past had done to my future.

But that day held another moment!  For the tears shed from a tormented heart would turn to a smile.  For that day I did brave the sea!  And because of the laughter, because of the fun, because of the beauty of the day and because of the encouragement of the people who loved me the most, that day I overcame a fear.

So that happy, laughing me, the one that balanced on a surf board with no intention of taking it to the sea, braved the swell and overcame her deep rooted fear of water!

And that day, recognition that fear only has a hold on your mind if you let it.  So that day I smiled because I knew that one day I would no longer be afraid.


The beginning….


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That night fear broke in.  It held me in a vice like grip, threatening me into submission.  All night I battled the heavy opponent desperate to overcome the constant delving into my heart, my soul and my mind.

What have you done?

Are you strong enough to deal with the aftermath?

What will happen to you?

Questions that fear asked of me long into the dark safety of night.  Questions whose answers, during that dark night, would seem so irrational in the cold light of day.  But when you are in total darkness, when you have been broken and left to stumble your way back into the light, those are answers of such pure relevance and truth that the sense it brings pierces your understanding and demolishes your every belief.

And what if you speak of the truth?  What will happen to you?

You see, when someone is stronger than you, when someone has the ability to reduce you to a shadow, when someone can knowingly take you apart then leave you shattered and broken, then they hold the power that could completely destroy your very being.

And who would be believed??

My darkness, my vulnerability was my weakness.  I had no defense.

I let them win!

And that was the beginning!  The beginning of the dark!  A broken and shattered soul ripped apart by the truth and left to rot with the hope that it would disappear and ease the guilt felt by a stronger someone.

The dark because of the fear!  The fear inside my head, a remnant of our yesterday.  A fear buried deep but still smoldering, waiting for the spark that would bring the demons back to life.  A fear of an imagined punishment.

And that day, that beginning was my awakening……


Where do I begin???


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This is my dilemma!

Where should I start?  Where do I begin?  If I go back to the beginning where would that be?  And why am I doing this anyway?   Is it an explanation?  Is it to understand?  Is it to justify?

I don’t want sympathy!  I don’t need to justify!  But I do need to understand!

Last month I decided that I was ready to begin my new life.  I was ready to step out of the darkness that had become my comfort, my place to hide, my safety.  I did not make a plan,  I just wanted to write, write about my hopes and dreams of my new future.

But then I realised that you can’t escape the past.  It is always there, ready to jump out and take you by surprise, to creep up unannounced, to find its way into your every moment and every word I tried to write.

My past was there to take over, to remind me of the fear, of the pain and of what could happen if I stepped out of the dark which had become my safety net.

I have been told that the past is behind me, to move on, to begin my new life.  But the problem is the past has shaped me, made me who I am.  How can I just leave it all behind?  How can I escape?  Move away?  Move far away, start a new life?  But I know that I will take the past with me where ever I go.

I have been through the therapy, the soul searching, read the self help books.  I have taken the medication, cried till I could cry no more and talked long into the night.  I know that my history is behind me, that now I laugh and smile once again and that I am ready to rebuild and live life once more.

Yet still it is there!

So I write this for me and for my children, so that maybe one day they will understand my choices, understand my life, but most of all understand and know me.

I write so that I can make sense of the betrayal, the pain, the despair that blanketed my life and left me broken.  I write so that I can destroy the past and leave it far behind me.  I write so that I can learn the lessons, trust my heart and my intuition and so that I know that my life so far has not been a waste.

But most of all I write my life backwards so that I can live my life forward.