Word Pie

Dealing with abuse, the ingrained patterning in each victim…is most like a word pie.

Pies come in many varieties, many flavors, crust, no crust, add ice cream, warm, room temperature, ice cold, vegetable, meat, breakfast, lunch and dinner.

So do victims and for lack of a better term..affliction.

Each had a different road map.

Each had a different grooming.

Each had a different coping mechanism(which is invaluable in recovery).

Each had a different effect upon their soul.

And I do not speak of the soul lightly. I do not throw it about like the trivializing the world has indoctrinated that word with.

So back to the soul…

Our soul is the essence of what we are…IT IS WHAT WE ARE.

Nothing can change that…what it is and how it functions…nothing.

With that said…it can be muddied, dirtied, wounded with such significance that we lose sight of everything.

How to function, how to cope, how to breath, how to talk. Any verb you can put with that.

So have abuse step in and spit on you….

At first, you are a bit befuddled…curious…that is not how love operates….not what your soul knows…so right there…you go off kilter..you start leaning…

And if you are a child..you have less understanding..because you operate fully in love…and none of this is adding up.

When we are residing within our mother, before we make our grand entrance..we are being filled with all that our mother contains and what our father contains…we are marinating in what they are…a combination plate..

We inherit color of eyes from the code of genetics, hair color, nose shape, distinguishing features, height, hands, arms and legs.

If you look at my sons, you can easily in a room of people pick out who is mother and father.

They even inherit our voice, our stance, walking pattern, our smiles, our looks…quizzical or smiling.

So if they get those things and many more…why would they not get all the emotion, thoughts of self, images of love, fairness, hate, jealousy, malice?

Why do you believe children are blank canvasses? That theory is debunked by how they look, how they come out, when, size, and with all the things they have.

Such as blue eyes, green eyes, almost black eyes, curly hair, straight hair, fussy, colicky, with an illness, peaceful, sleeps right away…everything you can name to describe a child when born and the days after.

So how is that blank?

So if I get all those things specialized to me from my parents…I get all the rest…

Maybe I was not wanted…sadness..

Maybe I was wanted a lot and my parents worked very hard to have me and I have frustration…

Maybe I was made in love….joy

Maybe I was not fed enough…hunger

Maybe I was made to prove a point….anxiousness…

Maybe I was made accidentally….loathing…

Maybe I was made violently…shame…

Maybe I was made arduously…struggle…and I battle worth…

All those feelings coursing through the blood steam…impact every cell, nucleus, gene, everything. It imprints a stamp that cannot be deleted….

So blank canvas…NAH…

Soul embedded with preset qualities…yeah…

Then we watch our environment…our peeps and go about fashioning us..

I will use me as an example…

Father…freaking intelligent, boxer, physical stamina of an athlete, believer in hard work.

Me…freaking intelligent…fighter..not in the physical sense, but one who will fight for justice and bringing the light of day to matters, runner like 6 days a week…keeping this 53 year old body strong, knows everything has its course to follow and it takes persistence, creative energy and time.

Mother..creative…tender..hermit tendencies…alone time…direct…turned away from lies..and beautiful…sentimental…strong.

Me…highly creative…am learning to juggle all the “things” I do at one time…humorous to watch on occasion, carry cuts to the heart from years ago and the slightest word can cause weeping of the wound, strong and powerful because I know how to ease the ache, even banish it, love me alone time…love it, do not mince words, will not deal with lies and will smack it around the block till someone calls “Uncle”, beautiful especially in the eyes, weepy at a coffee commercial, and a tsunami could not knock me over.

Do you see a slight off balance here…? Most of my traits are from my mother because I was carried within her, yet I spent less than a year with my mother in my life…odd.

I have traits of my father, because like it or not, those are given to me also and cannot be prevented and sometimes it shows itself in profound ways.

Why am I such a fighter…partially from the fact of watching my father and being on the receiving end of punches, blows, trips, and trying to find food…even if it was dog food.

I am also a fighter for life, truth, hope and that is from my mother..direct and powerful.

I could go on for days about all these things we are given. How we cannot just pick and choose them…like we are at a buffet and say I want the chocolate pudding and not the lettuce…

Knowing where you come from, what you are made of…creates the ability to see “why”.

So abuse no longer holds the ominous silence and confusion.

You understand why you are attractive to abusers…

Why you lean this way and do not even know it…

Why you like this and hate that…

And why you are timid to say this or that…

Or why you believe an abuser when they say they will destroy you…

That is a choice…mine.

Abuse, abusers love to give you word pie…like word salad(another popular term).

It plays on your decency and corrupts it…

It plays on your hope and can extinguish it…

Ask why…over and over again.

And do not stop until you have the answer.

Yet remember, true asking, means taking off layers others have given us and we have gladly taken them on as the knowledge of us…

You do not have to wear them…do not believe them…because in doing so…you stop playing with the monsters…

And yes…monsters are real…not just in the head…and they can be defeated…

And this I know.

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~ by HopeGlenn on December 12, 2016.

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