Let it Bleed

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1531424404188_imageShe wanted to heal

But day after day

She would lift up the band aid

And find yet a bleeding heart

That just won’t heal. More

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Darkness surrounded me
Thick darkness enlightened me
I slept in the dark
Woke up in the dark More

Night Files 2

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night

‘One day at a time’, Laila said to herself as she turned off the alarm she had snoozed three times already. She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders as she sat up on the disheveled bed. She couldn’t remember sleeping. There had been a lot of crying and drinking to drown her fears and she fell asleep somewhere in the middle. The pain still gnawed at her heart while she silently whispered ‘Help me God’  More

Pain Addict

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I’m so addicted to the pain
I don’t know how to live without it
I’m so addicted to the tears
I don’t wear mascara anymore
I’m so addicted to the hurt
It doesn’t hurt anymore

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Dark Clouds

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The clouds turn dark when it’s about to rain 

The soil closes up the seed when it’s about to grow 

The night gets darker when the day is about to break 

A pregnant woman travails when she’s about to bring forth  

Pain before pleasure 

Labor before reward 

Darkness before light 

So why do you despair 

Oh my soul? 

This darkness you see 

Is for a while 

This pain you feel 

Won’t last forever 

Behold! 

Pregnant clouds give birth to rain 

Pregnant women give birth to babies 

Though you travail 

You will surely bring forth 

Though the storm rages 

You will find still waters 

Oh my soul 

Don’t give up! 

Get up! 

Get going! 

For the light is about to break forth 

This darkness is but for a while  

©Mfon Etuk, 2016

The Therapist- Thoughts of the Past

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Previously on the therapist…

After too many sleepless nights to count and another appointment with Richard, I struggled to stay awake. I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up; trying to solve other’s problems when under the surface, I was one giant time bomb ready to explode.

If anyone needs a therapist, it’s me.

It was a sad irony that continued to haunt me. I could solve other’s problems, but I could never seem to fix my own. At the same time, I’m pretty sure it’s this very job that gives me the courage to get out of bed every morning. They say that helping others eases our own pain. I believe this is true.

Today, Richard began to open up about his childhood, which was more difficult than I could have ever imagined. He was abused as a child by parents who were hardly around. He often went to his best friend’s house after school, hoping to escape the pain, but lost his friend to a drunk driving accident at only seventeen. I could only imagine the pain that would come with loosing a friend to a reckless, irresponsible driver who should never have gotten behind the driver’s seat to begin with.

Little by little, I’m beginning to learn his story, and discover the demons of depression and anxiety that he battles on a daily basis.

It seems that so many of our battles start in our youngest years, as our experiences and personalities mix to create the person that we are today. I still remember the day that my dad walked out on us. My mother begged him not to go, as my youngest sister cried. My older brother tried to be aloof, but I found out later that he took it the hardest of all of us.

I suspect that my dad leaving may have something to do with my difficulty in forming relationships. Psychologists have said that we learn through imitating those around us. Without a healthy relationship to imitate, how could I be expected to form one of my own?

I don’t mind it though. The extra time gives me the chance to think and reflect; something that’s almost as essential as breathing to me. There’s a familiarity in the solitude. I know what to expect from it.

The same can’t be said about people.

I often wonder how God creates plans for us when He knows we’re so prone to screw them up. Why does He allow us the privilege of carrying such great responsibility in the midst of our fallen state? How can we be image bearers of God when we can barely keep up our own image?

These are the things that weigh on my mind when I’m alone too long with only my thoughts to keep me company.

I climbed into bed and pulled the sheets over my head, trying to shield myself from the storm that was making it’s way into my mind. There was a time to analyze my life. This wasn’t it.

Now was the time to get some sleep. I have a big day tomorrow with a new patient, in addition to my regular appointments with Richard.

If I wanted to be of any help I would need to be well rested and alert; which meant that I would somehow need to catch up on a week of lost sleep overnight.

When my head hit the pillow, I wasn’t sure I would be able to do it.

The next morning, I came to the realization that I could.

©Courtney Whitaker, 2016

I was so happy to have Courtney help out with the series. It takes a brilliant writer to be able to pick up from where another stopped and run with it! Thanks again Courtney.

Lesson for the day: It doesn’t hurt to ask for help when you need it!

Have a pleasant weekend! xoxo

The Fixer of Broken Dreams 2

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Previously on The Fixer of Broken Dreams

2:65 pm; Exactly one month since Eno’s death. ‘One day at a time, one day at a time’ Ani whispered her new found mantra over and over and over again. She had said it to herself so much that it stopped making sense to her but she had to keep saying it because it kept the silence away and she couldn’t stand the silence. The silence gave way to memories, the day she found out she was pregnant, all the fun she and Gabe had fixing up Eno’s nursery, the day they brought her home from the hospital, her first smile, first tooth, her first…no, she didn’t want the silence so she continued to mutter; ‘one day at a time, one day at a time’. She had given up driving entirely after she hit a pole twice in two days so she just took the bus and walked the rest of the way home. She was so tired, tired especially of all the pity that was being piled on her, everyone walked on tip toes around her and treated her as if she were breakable and she was so sick of it. She was already steeped in grief and she didn’t need the constant reminders of the child she had lost, she and Gabe just wanted… she and Gabe, sigh…

couple apart

Photo Credit: 360nobs.com

Gabe hadn’t said two words to her since the day the buried their daughter. It was almost alarming how much they had grown apart in the space of a month. The tragedy that was meant to bring them together had driven them apart like the earth from the sky. That first night that they spent without Eno, Ani tried to cry with Gabe or talk to him even so they could grieve and mourn together but he wouldn’t say a word to her. He had shut her out completely. One night she was jerked awake from her fitful sleep by the sound of Gabe dismantling Eno’s crib, she heard him sobbing and when she went to put her arms around him, he got up to leave the room but he turned around and walked back in and yelled. He yelled at her with such viciousness that she nearly passed out. He blamed her for being negligent and that if she had paid more attention, Eno would still be here and when he couldn’t yell anymore, he turned around and walked out, leaving her with the broken pieces of the beautiful white crib, broken pieces of their dreams.

****

Gabe walked out of the manager’s office looking deflated. He had just been issued a warning for throwing an object at his secretary. He couldn’t even remember what the poor lady said to him that made him so mad; all he knew was that he was suddenly taken over by a red hot rage that he couldn’t even comprehend. He got back to his office and after apologizing to his scared secretary he shut his office door and sat on the floor with his head in his hands. He was so mad, all the time; mad that his baby girl, his angel died and he wasn’t even there, mad that he was so busy rushing to work that he didn’t even kiss her goodbye like he always did and that he made Ani do it for him, mad that she was all alone in a dark cold grave but above all, he was mad at his wife and it was eating him alive. What was she doing? Where was she? Why didn’t she check up on Eno? Why??? he asked and asked but got no answers so he stopped asking and just swallowed his grief. It was way past close of business but he didn’t want to go home, home didn’t feel like home anymore. Home was just a sad, quiet and empty place. Every night, Ani left dinner for him on the dining table, every night he ignored it and went straight to the guest room to sleep. Every morning she packed his lunch for him, and every morning he ignored the purple lunch bag on the table as he stormed off to work, because in his twisted mind that was just another way of punishing her, of making her as miserable as he was. He finally got up and went home but as he walked past the dining room, he did a double take. There was no dinner waiting on the table, Ani had given up.

Written by Adaugo from Adaugo Diary.

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