Reveal yourself to those you wish to know... ( Archived) (17)

Please be honest here. It is imperative to drop the shields of our past hurts and forge ahead anew. We all need to bare our inner selves before we can move ahead without worry gnawing at our heels. No one wants to find an untruth down the road. Sure we all make mistakes, but those of the heart can be fatal to such a fragile thing a love, when viewed through the past. One will wonder if this is untrue what ese, and then the rush of past betrayals real or perceived will fall from the sky like drops of hot glue to paint the ones involved with the hues and reminders of their inner hurts.
So in the spirit of giving, please give us the worst thing about yourself. Personal input is imperative for those who truly seek what they claim here. There is great healing in allowing the darkness which imprisons us in our own doubts, to being exposed to the light. We will take your offering and hold it aloft to the heavens for the purification we all seek and need.
Bringing these dark devices forward to pollute an innocent not guilty of their crimes is not what any here seek. Truth and honesty will divulge us of our deepest burdens.
To be fair here I have already posted some of the attrocities of my own life elsewhere but I will go first to get us all started. For those of you who have read this before please avert your eyes as what lies ahead has already been faced and repeating will only allow the darkness a renewed hold in our hearts. Freedom from the chains, not a fascination with them.

Mark

Just When I Needed You Most

A little boy of five
Somewhere between my two son's ages
Is brought up in his loving father's arms
To bed
Kissed and tucked in for the night
Safe from the outside world
His father lies beside him and holds his son
Soon the two are close enough to share their heat
The little boy is suddenly pushed onto his face
Gently, but firmly and feels something strange
It begins to hurt
And he starts to cry
The pain overwhelms his mind
He clutches his pillow tight
Tears and tiny screams
It is over
The boy lies bleeding
Sobbing
Alone

The pain is with him for the next few days
And his father is somehow different
The boy knows by the looks he gets
And he feels as if he did something wrong
A little time passes
With a bit of healing
No more blood
Again his father brings him to bed
Again the horrible feelings
And the pain
And the blood
His father leaves him
Alone
Sobbing
The cycle repeats itself
The boy can remember the smell of his father's breath on his neck
The animal grunting drowning his own cries
The course touch of his hands
Directing his tiny hands to his father's private place
The swelling of his manhood
And the pain it will bring
The pattern begins to fill the boy with dread of night
He prays that no one will come at night
Sometimes he hears his father come up the stairs
But thankfully something keeps him away
In the morning his sister has the look
His tiny little sister

Alone
Sobbing
The children fear the night
The boy retreats into the darkness of his crawlspace
Sometimes it is enough
His father goes away
But his sister suffers instead
Occasionally he is found
And dragged from his safety
And filled with his father's love
The coarseness of his beard burns
Leaving marks he is sure will be seen
No one notices anything
No one says anything
No one helps
The boy is alone
His sister is alone
The boy grows older and begins to resist his fate
Fighting back only gets him hurt more
Beatings begin to occur in the day
Sacred day where safety always lay
Now becomes as frightening as the night
Now as scary a place as the dark
Nowhere to run
Nowhere to turn
His mother oblivious to his fate
Father tells him it is for his own good
And that it is what all fathers do
To teach their sons to become men
Years of this horror
Shut the boy's mind down
His father's game grows more obscene
His manhood forced into his mouth
And wet fluid spewn across his face
On his back
On his chest
Scrubbing will not remove the smell
Or the feel
The taste mars all he eats
He cannot wash it out

The little boy grows up
He is now twelve
Having endured the beatings and his father's love
For far too long
He wishes he were dead
He prays to God to kill him
Or do anything to him
Just make his father's love go away
His sister has withdrawn within herself
And no longer has friends
His mother's eyes are empty
Cold
Alone
Blind
Rage is replacing some of the fear
But the little boy cannot do what his mind demands
The conflict always gets him hurt
And rewarded with his caresses
One day he lashes out and beats his father
Trying with all his heart to kill him
His father lies broken and bloody
Soaking into the pillows of his bed
He is free
His father is dead
Sobbing
Unknowing
His father's eyes open
And he smiles
The boy's mind shatters as he runs away
Never is he touched again
Physically
Privately
His sister is the sole recipient of his father's love
Her precious time alone
While dad was loving his son
Is not there to give her mind a break
Her attention becomes constant
She is lost
Gone
Empty
Authorities come
They take the father away in chains
He is gone for a while
And then returns
He is sent away
The father is gone
The boy cries
He has ruined his father
His mother is lost
His sister is crying
Their family is alone

Mark

Yet another lengthy disertation on the evils of untruth:

Lies

Lies are the substance by which we as people create the bastions and ramparts of the fortresses, which unnecessarily 'protect' us from the world around us. Each lie we tell requires more and more lies to substantiate the ideal. When this twisted skein is applied to those around us they require as much work to maintain as another entire life. Eventually the person birthing these fictitious views is so overwhelmed by the pressures of this new 'life' that they lose their original one. By now so much effort and constant work has been applied to the fortress of illusion that we live in, that we cannot abide the loss of our life's great work, when it begins to crumble as it inevitably will. First one crossed wire in the web, then another, then the panic stricken frenzy of trying to realign the 'truths'. The multitude of bandages applied to the castle can no longer support the fragile foundation and the keep comes crumbling down. Despair sets in as the 'life' created falls to pieces despite the most valiant attempts to rebuild the crumbling edifice. This despair is no less real than any other despair, because even though the fictional house of cards we applied as our front to the world was never really there, the resources required to create it were real nonetheless. Now the person has a choice to abandon the fraudulent for reality. Human nature and the pride associated with it, make a subtle attempt to assure the person that they can do better next time, after all if at first you do not succeed, try, try again. The truly wise abandon the course of deceit, but then again life is all but over when the true course of wisdom arrives at one's doorstep. Most often the repentant learn a few new tricks to the art of misconstruction, and sets sail for new lands in which to build glass houses more resistant to the stones of truth. If this is the course chosen, as is sadly to be expected of most, the person gradually becomes a shadow of their former self as the energy allotted to a person's life divided by two (or more) makes each fragment not truly whole in any way. The whole person has a fair chance of living life to its fullest, the fragmented, none at all. The liar ends up with nothing, but the sands of their ‘lives’, which slip constantly between fingers, made of frail shadow. The only means to the end of such despair is the creation of yet more illusions, to the point of the loss of the liar to all who once knew them. A burden the liar never intended for themselves in the first place nor the loss they envisioned for the living they leave behind. A very lonely sort of wasting created by the grey lies that burn in the light of truth at every dawn.

Mark

Come on here there must be someone in need of a good healthy commune with their own hearts. No slings or arrows just healing.

Mark

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a
battle that goes on inside people. He said, "My son, the battle is between two
"wolves" inside us all.

One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret,
greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false
pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility,
kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather:
"Which wolf wins?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

I posted this earlier:

What makes me, me?

Caring, sometimes to my detriment.
People like to target me for a good walking on, but God help anyone who tries to go after someone I care for. I'm simply complex.
I trip & fall, but refuse to take people down with me.
I want to be needed & to have my needs respected.
I ask nothing I can't offer.
There is a wealth of power hidden beneath the surface of what most people think they see.
I cry by myself so I can smile in front of the people who need to see it.
I give myself to one person until they reject me.
Getting hurt is easy, being hateful is impossible.
The truth is always better than sparing my feelings.
~~~

I come from a constant state of motion.
I have been moving all my life, searching for just the right spot.
I'm like a cat, looking for that spot in the sun to circle before fixing up & laying down in. Once I have my spot, I want to know I can always return to it. I have been hit from all sides at once, tops & bottoms too. Somehow, I land on my feet every time. Perhaps it's sheer dumb luck, or a cruel twist of fate... but I'm just keep plugging along.
I know, I just know... there's a sunny little spot waiting for me.

:)

Mark, honey, my heart just aches for you.

I don't have much to reveal, just that I have a hard time committing.

I want to be needed & to have my needs respected.


Have you considered, possibly you are needed very much.. Possibly, there are those that "need" your viewpoints in your posts..

A different form of need but appreciated, none the less.