We are gathered here today
To get through this thing called life.”
We are gathered here today
To get through this thing called life.”
So thankful for all the sweet messages of love and support I have received over the past few weeks. I continue to seek guidance and understanding over this deeply painful issue. I appreciate your continued support and prayers as I make sense out of crazy.
We are all broken. That’s how the light gets in.”
Putting the pieces together reminds me of the puzzles I used to work on during the long winter months. You probably know the kind with 1000’s of little pieces nearly all the same color. Once the edges are found, the progress is extremely slow. You know how it goes. You pick up a piece only to find that it doesn’t fit.
My life as been much like a puzzle over the last few years. The pieces are mostly gray in color and I’m having difficulty finding the pieces that go together. The outside edge has been defined and like any puzzle with so many pieces, it can’t be put together in one day. There are days when I abandon the puzzle. It often makes my head spin as the pieces are so small.
The puzzle sits in the corner, never far from site. Every once in a while someone walks by and helps with a piece. Others agree that there are too many dark little pieces that look the same. I’ve considered throwing the pieces back in the box and putting the lid back on.
This particular puzzle has taken longer than usual. I haven’t snapped everything into place, but a definite outline has come into view. It’s not going to be a pretty picture.
Several months into my own personal nightmare, I decided to look for answers. I wanted to be validated.
I started looking for people that knew our family at that time: neighbors, friends, relatives. I contacted every one I could find. I even went to the court house in Omaha to find the name of an old neighbor. I searched for my 2nd grade teacher. There were lots of dead ends.
I did find a few old neighbors none of which knew anything. I found friends of my parents and relatives, but still nothing.
I did learn a few interesting things. One neighbor said my mother had a temper and she witnessed that on a few occasions. She said she grabbed her 2 year old by the collar one day and threw him inside her doorway and told her to keep him out of her house. She also said that after my sister was born she would bring her over to her house for her (the neighbor) to watch. The neighbor lady had to tell my mother that she wasn’t her baby sitter. After all, she wasn’t paying her and she had her own children to watch. She said that made my mother furious…weird.
I spoke with one of my mother’s relatives. She implied that my mother had been beaten as a child, but she wasn’t certain.
My aunt who was my uncle’s first wife knew my mother in the early days. They had gone to nursing school together. She mentioned that she thought my mother could have benefited from counseling.
Recently, my husband and I drove by the old house. The owner was in the driveway. I stopped to speak to him hoping he would show me around the place. We chatted for a bit. I told him who I was and he told me he had lived there since ’78. He didn’t invite me in. The garage door was open and I kept looking inside hoping that it would look familiar. He did tell me about the neighbor lady to the east. I was hoping to find her. I had a few memories of talking to her through the chain linked fence. She had to have heard something. My bedroom was at the end of the house next to her house. The gentleman tells me she is every elderly and moved to Colorado some time ago.
I didn’t get the validation I was looking for, but it did help me realize that it wouldn’t change a thing.
I went through so many emotions as the memories of my childhood resurfaced. I was devastated. I was horrified. I was in shock. I went through a time where I felt like I needed my memories to be validated. I wanted someone to say they had tried to help me instead of wondering why no one did.
I called our pastor from the early days when the memories started to resurface. In the beginning, he was helpful. In our initial conversation, he told me that my mother didn’t like me and that she really struggled. He clearly knew more that he was saying, but he chose his words carefully.
The pastor called back the very next day and told me there was more to be remembered, but would not be specific. I told him more of the things I had remembered and he suddenly because less helpful. In fact, he played the “I’m getting old and my memory isn’t what it used to be” card. Yet he remembered that my mother didn’t like me and that she struggled. That was quite a thought to have remembered some 45 years later.
I heard from the pastor one more time. He urged me to forgive and forget. He said that nothing good is going to come from this He definitely knew more that he was saying.
My daughter and my sister both called the pastor. As my sister put it, “it was a complete waste of time.” He pleaded ignorance and stated, “you can’t make sense out of crazy.”
I want my life back!
Remembering the physical abuse I endured as a child has rocked me at my core. Emotionally, I have been all over the map: sadness, anger, guilt.
I don’t understand what I could have done as a small child to warrant the physical abuse I endured. Then my thoughts go to why didn’t someone help me? Then I wonder what I did to deserve that. I felt guilty because my brother was literally in the way and received much of the abuse simply because he tried to help me. Nothing more.
I want my life back!
I wonder how it is that I am seemingly “normal.” I wonder how she got away with her lunacy all these years.
I want my life back.
I was just a little girl. She stole my childhood. I can’t imagine doing those things she did to me. I can’t imagine hurting a child. What was wrong with her? And if she was doing what she thought was right, why didn’t she discuss that with my father?
I want my life back, but first I need to know what she stolen from me. If I wasn’t allowed to be myself then who am I?
My mother is gone now. She can no longer hurt me or my family. I control the narrative, I want my life back.
The memories of my childhood resurfaced one at a time. At first, they were thoughts or memories that was ordinary in nature, but what was to follow was not ordinary at all.
Because I am intuitive by nature, I was often given the feelings of what happened: the emotions that were associated with the memories. There were instances where I couldn’t look at what happened. It was too painful. Over the course of a few months or so I relived those horrible years of torment.
I turned to my older brother. He had remembered some of the beatings but, he too struggled with remembering the details. My brother was not the target, but merely in the way. He often tried to help me and begged our mother to stop. There were times when he ran away. It was a confusing time.
I urged my brother to remember more, but he couldn’t. He encouraged me to forget and move on.
My father and elderly man now is ashamed he didn’t know what was happening in his home. By his own admission, he states that he trusted his wife to do her job.
When I asked my father if we were spanked and he proudly states, “We spanked our children,” but says he never spanked me himself.
My father had no idea who he was married to or what was going on in his home. He worked 2-3 jobs while I was growing up. I rarely saw him. The abuse never occurred while he was home.
My sister was just a little girl at the time. She had no conscious memories of what happened.
I was on my own here.
What would you do if you woke up one day only to realize that your life was a complete lie? Would you want your old life back? Would you even remember who you were back then?
For years, I would wake up in the morning and have a flash of panic that I had forgotten something. It wasn’t anything in my conscious mind, It was my soul urging me to remember. I was being urged to remember who I am.
I started having flashes of memories of my early childhood last year. They were little clips or scenes of my past. As the clips played over and over in my mind, I gained valuable insight into my early years.
It wasn’t a pretty past and some would say that I was probably fortunate that I repressed those images. Those thoughts were not the only things that I lost. I lost the ordinary things as well. I had no memories of birthdays, Christmas’s, or my younger sister. I had completely lost the first 8 or so years of my life. I hadn’t fully realized that until a short while ago.
I wasn’t born ordinary. In fact, I was quite extraordinary. Sometime between the ages of one and two, I began talking about the spirit world and using my spiritual gifts. My mother being extremely religious assumed that my spiritual gifts were negative in nature and she proclaimed me a demon.
Over the next 7 years or so, she attempted to break me. She beat me routinely in addition to emotionally and verbally assaulting me. All of this lead up to a final confrontation which literally caused my soul to shatter rendering a completely different person.
I have been that person ever since. It wasn’t until my mother died that my soul felt safe enough to peek it’s head out.
I’m taking my life back.
Keeping quiet would be what the ordinary Amy would do. I no longer wish to be that person. I am free.
My Story-I Want My Life Back
In this short video, I explain what happened to me as a child.
Better Understanding Yourself Through Your Dreams
Your subconscious mind never sleeps and literally is working for you 24/7. It stores and computes and while you sleep may present you with all sorts of dreams to work out problems in your everyday life. The dream may be a warning or symbolic for what is happening in your waking life. Pay attention to those warnings. You just may learn something.
In order to understand your dreams, you need to remember them first. To optimize your dream state make sure you get to bed at a reasonable hour. Avoid drinking excessive amounts of alcohol. Alcohol tends to disrupt your sleep. Keep a voice recorder or note book close by so that when you wake you are able to get the details out. If you wait until later, the details may fade. Talking about your dreams also helps you remember them. You might remember your dream later in the day, but typically 90% of your dream is forgotten within 5 minutes of being awake. Something going on my trigger the dream memory itself.
There are many apps with dream dictionaries and journals that will help you document your dreams and their symbols.
Write down your dream and pick out the symbols. Look up the symbols in a dream dictionary or app. If you don’t have one, there are many to choose online. At times the message is clear or quite obvious. Other times, the message is more cryptic. Sometimes there may be more than one message possible and it may take time to find it’s true meaning. Date your dream and forget about it. Go back to it in a day or so. Sometimes the meaning will come through at a later time. Sleeping on it then getting back to it may give you clarity.
Over a period of time, you will be able to analyze your dreams and decipher the types of dreams you are having. Dreams are also a place where you can go visit a loved one. Dreams such as these are known as visitations.
A visitation is just that, a visit with a loved one. Someone who is no longer on the earth plane. This is usually a conversation that is literal not symbolic. Our loved ones my appear different, but you will know who they are. Most people who have experienced this say that their loved one appears to be in their prime (approximately 30 years old). A visitation can be very healing to the person having the dream. You may have questions that need answered or they may have a message for you. This type of dream is not like the others. It’s one that you’ll never forget it.