Trauma – A Doorway to Divinity

Trauma has been like a close friend of mine since I entered this incarnation. I am no stranger to suffering at the grips of her merciless hands, or to feeling claustrophobic within the self-imposed mental prisons I lock myself behind to seek solace from her infliction. My mind often becomes the dark labyrinth that I must somehow learn to escape without a compass to lead me back to the light. I rely heavily on internal astral navigation to guide me. However, at times I find myself shipwrecked, lost on the shore of the tiny peninsula floating somewhere between the right and left hemispheres of my brain, struggling to make logical sense of my emotions. Mission impossible, if you will. I find myself there today.

Today makes 6 days since I was both physically and mentally battered, and held hostage in my own home by a man who claimed to care about me. You would think under these circumstances that my mental filmstrip would resemble scenes from a Lifetime movie, but all I can think about in this moment is how our entire universe supposedly was created in only 6 days. SIX DAYS! I think perhaps creation and destruction live out the same life span because for me the entire world stopped spinning 6 days ago.

My sun has grown dark and ominous, the sky cries every tear my eyes have yet to shed and it wails in agony, howling like the whipping winds that attempted to uproot me. My majestic moon has lost her glow and even the tides now cease to ebb and flow. I find myself trapped in a state of suspended animation where everything moves around me but my body feels like its hibernating through a frigid winter. And though all my sensory receptors are at their peak, I feel completely dead inside, numb, as if the weight of my own limbs is almost too heavy a load to bear. I have become completely cumbersome.

I find myself weighing my trauma on an unbalanced scale, as if one event is more or less impactful than another. I think of all the possible ways I could have handled this situation differently. I have listened to all the “should’ve, could’ve, would’ve” rants from those who would never even try on my shoes, much less walk in them. I have analyzed the scenario repeatedly from every perspective possible only to conclude that I need to just accept the fact that I handled things the best way I could have. I must also realize that hindsight is 20/20 and while people talk a good game, survival wears a different guise before innocent eyes. Through this experience I am learning that my reaction to external events is not typical, but that is okay. My atypical response to trauma is the very reason I am still here to speak of such an atrocity, and I did not become another statistic.

While my life certainly feels like it is in shambles right now, at least I am still here. I am still fighting to make a positive impact on this wretched world. I am still breathing, and I am still standing on my own two feet trying to pick up my broken pieces and put them back together. My descent is not my demise. I am merely resting, gathering my strength and spiritual arsenal to defeat the demons who dare to test my will. I am truly a Goddess (as I was reminded by my best friend); I don’t just call myself that. I have a divine purpose here. I was given this life to live because I am strong enough to withstand the storms that shower over my soul. So to you most high, beloved Pachamama, I say, let it rain! Come and cleanse me of this pain. Blessed be.
-Dena M. Daigle


Bohemian Bodhisattva

I long to take my wanderlust heart on the journey of a lifetime, visiting all the sacred spaces of the ascended masters and feeling their essence within these vagabond bones. I want to surf turquoise seas and lay awake counting shooting stars, getting lost in the acid-like waves of Aurora Borealis. I want to explore foreign lands and fill the empty cups of suffering souls with love, compassion and kindness along the way. I want to share in their laughter as I stumble upon syllables in my attempt to learn their native tongue. I want to dream big and live out loud while jumping from cloud to technicolor cloud. I just want to live a life destined by divine purpose with the freedom to taste the rainbow of every culture around the world. I want to converse freely in the language of no words with the spirits of my ancestors as I let their footprints be my guide along the off-beaten path. I want to stretch my arms out towards the sapphire sky and twirl about the raindrops void of any reason as to why. And I want to savor the stimulation of every sense so intently that I never again question my soul’s purpose. I just want to be completely free, a sovereign spirit wandering the galaxy; the fearless version of the authentic me.


– Dena M. Daigle  2018

Surviving the Void – A Tribute to the Healing of the Womb

I love every aspect of my life and those I share it with, let’s get that straight, but there is still a gut-wrenching ache in the depths of my soul and it just won’t seem to loosen its grip on me. Although every other chamber of my heart is overflowing with love, there is still a chasmic black hole in my heart that all the stars in the universe could not fill. It should be infused with light through self-love, the love reciprocated by those I care for and inner-peace and happiness, yet for some reason I cannot seem to tame the envious beast lurking within. Perhaps because, like most childless women who yearn to cradle precious life within them, I come face to face on a daily basis with subtle reminders of the one ability I lack – in every family photo taken, every school bus stop, playground, grocery store, television screen, doctor’s office and inevitably, every other conversation that seems to flow around me. I am 35 years old, unwed (but engaged) and childless (of my own womb) living in a male dominant society that propagates marriage and children before the age of 40, while subliminally implying that infertile women are somehow inferior… but I digress.

It is every woman’s sacred birthright to bear the fruit of her womb, but sometimes in life things happen that prevent us from doing so. That does not make us any less of a woman, or any less knowledgeable about how to raise children. Allow me to reiterate this to those who say “You don’t have kids, so you don’t understand.” – That does not make us any less of a woman, or any less knowledgeable about how to raise children! (Seriously people, there is nothing comparable to telling an infertile woman those words that could ever make her feel more disconnected from womanhood than she already does. So, please don’t say that.) Motherly instincts come naturally to the human species just as they do in the wild (even though we may want to argue that point after witnessing certain behaviors of some women towards their children). Certainly some of us may choose not to have children, and I’m equally supportive of those women as well, but it is a decision that they have made nonetheless. Then there are those of us childless women who have been physically coerced to forego the idea of bearing children by our bodies who have decided that fate for us. We were stripped of the right and/or ability to choose for ourselves, forcing us to swallow the toxic tincture of emotions that followed, which we then had to learn to digest somehow.

I, like many women, have endured severe sexual trauma, both pre- and post-pubescence, and it has affected me immensely in every way – mind, body and spirit. While navigating the muddy waters of self-healing, I sought shelter in connections with other females who have experienced similar hardships. Despite their experiences or reasons for not having children, there is one common factor linking us together – the wisdom gained by enduring the pain of living without that which our hearts desire most. Because of these goddesses, I now see the intrinsic value of the womb, the captivating beauty of the divine feminine spirit and the essence of all life itself.

The womb is a not just a sexual organ residing within the reproductive system of the female body. It is the sacred seat of power that links all of humanity to The Great Mother. It is the source of infinite abundance embodying the life-force energy that gives birth to the entire universe.

“When we speak of the womb, we are referring to more than a physical organ within a female body – although this sacred site is brimming with creative magic. We refer also in a greater sense to an energetic, multidimensional portal, a bridge between worlds, that lives within us whether we have a physical womb or not.

For women who have had a hysterectomy, the energetic power and blueprint of the womb remains within; for those in menopause, your energetic wise blood still flows in harmony with the cycles of the moon. Women in their crone phase are the spiritual grandmothers of the tribe, the wise wombs. Men also have a spiritual or energetic womb, which we call the hara.”

Womb of Light, Mary Rogers and Anjali Devi.

In my quest for closure, I have learned the importance of healing, not only mentally, but physically and spiritually as well. That may sound somewhat strange because well, obviously, those old wounds have healed externally, but internally there is still a mess of unhealed damage that has gone untreated for many decades which requires my attention. You see, our wombs are where the majority of our pain, including the pain that we have inherited from our ancestors, resides. We entomb that toxicity within our bodies and it grows like a cancer attacking otherwise healthy organs and causing all kinds of issues. Additionally, when we harbor that pain within by suppressing our rage and tears, we actually inhibit our growth in all facets of life. Although the process of healing past trauma can be utterly painful, it is vital to our well-being to awaken that slumbering beast, accept the lessons it has taught us, and to then permanently evict and prohibit it from returning to cause any further damage. I know that now.

“Through awakening of the womb we are able to travel back into those places that have disconnected us from our power of gnosis and grounded living. The places that are frozen through trauma of painful experiences can now begin to thaw into rivers of ancient grief. Irrigating our lives with [the] birthright of pleasure, innocent wildness, juiciness, magic and a deeper self-love than any we have ever known.

Self-love is a fertile, pregnant doorway into manifesting true love on the physical realms through relationships. Through our womb imprints we inherit our mother line gifts as well as our pain. When we are cutoff from this power center we cannot access our gifts and instead can stay in loops and replay of generational trauma.”

– Anabel Vizcarra

This process is how we honor our hearts and the blossoming lotus that is the awakened womb. In learning of the power carried within the sacred space of the womb, my purpose has become abundantly clear. I now realize that, while I may not be able to bring forth life in physical form from my womb, I can bring forth life in other ways, equally as beautiful. I carry within me the spiritual strength and creative energy needed to share the life-changing tools I have discovered with my kindred sisters so that I may help them to restore the balance, vitality and essence of life within themselves. I inherited the sacred energy of The Great Mother, and I am a guardian of light protecting the innocence of the children that I love as if they were my own. So I will continue walking gracefully along the path of healing carrying within me the divine torch of light and love. – Dena M. Daigle, Phoenix Ascended


Photo: Pinterest, Artist Unknown.
Mary Rogers – Lotus Gypsy Soul
Anjali Devi – Anjali Devi, Psychic Medium
Anabel Vizcarra

Iris – The Sacred Meeting Place Between Science and Spirituality

Have you ever met someone for the first time and felt an instant connection to them as if you have known them your entire life? Perhaps there is something familiar in their eyes, but you cannot seem to pinpoint exactly what it is. Yet you still feel like you have gazed upon those mystical orbs a million times before. I believe we feel that connective spark because our soul instantly recognized theirs the moment we looked into their eyes. Related article: “Vibe With Your Soul Tribe.”

“It has been said, for as long as I can remember, that the eyes are the windows to the soul. I wholeheartedly concur! I view the intricate patterns of the iris as a universal map leading us to the sacred meeting place of science and spirituality.”

Dena Daigle, Phoenix Ascended

Every human being on this planet has a unique pair of eyes that contain their very own galactic microcosm known as the iris. No two are the same, much like our fingerprints. They are a beautiful blueprint to the stars, mind, body and soul alike.

Did you know? “The iris is like a map of the body – changes in certain organs are reflected in specific parts of the iris. The right iris shows the condition of the right side of the body, while the left iris reflects the left side. The exact relationship between iris and body parts can be seen from the iris chart below.” (Source: What Your Iris Says About You.) Please note, however, that the actual pattern of the iris rarely changes acutely.


The iris develops when we are in our mother’s womb and remains virtually the same our entire life. “In health, the iris is composed of densely structured fine, straight lines, radiating from the pupil to the outer rim. A close grain, similar to that of hardwood, indicates a strong inherited vitality and good recuperative powers in the case of temporary illness. If the fibers are loosely spread, as in softwood, the basic health is weak.”

It is also believed that the eyes do not change when we pass from one life into the next, allowing us to recognize our spiritual companions throughout time and space. Our souls are light-bodies that exist in higher dimensions beyond the confines of this earthly realm. However, we incarnate here in physical form for various reasons with a distinct purpose and/or mission. Our personal unconscious acts much like an internal hard drive storing vital data and information that we have encountered in past lives in order for us to evolve and grow. Even though most of us do not consciously remember our past lives, certain places, events and even people have the ability to trigger that stored energy into resurfacing. That is why we feel such an intense connection when we encounter certain people and momentarily gaze into their eyes. We are basically catching a glimpse of a past life connection.   Pay attention to how you feel the next time you “meet” someone.

“Mosaic masterpieces in hues of brown, gold, green and blue. Kaleidoscopes of color containing all the beauty of far-away galaxies. These story-telling spheres speak the untold truths in moments of silence. Like tiny windows to the soul, our eyes reflect every encountered emotion. It is there that we can view each other in our purest form, raw and unfiltered.”

– Dena Daigle (2017) “Windows to the Soul,” Scattered Ashes

Angels Among Us

I have never considered myself a religious person, but rather a spiritual one. Nevertheless, I have had the pleasure of knowing angels who walk among us. They are the protectors of children, the carriers of light, and like a moth drawn to a flame, we are drawn to them. These earthbound angels offer us healing when we are suffering, patience in times of resistance, guidance when we struggle to find balance, and empathy when we feel misunderstood.  They are the Matriarchs and Patriarchs of our soul family.

However, there is something truly unique about the divine feminine spirit of the Earth. I, myself come from a long line of strong females. We are fierce warrior women who have struggled to overcome conditions that most would crumble beneath. But you will never hear our battle cries, for we fight fearlessly in the valley of darkness with grace and wisdom, rod and staff defunct.

“For the word of God is living and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the division of soul and spirit, and of joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart. And there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are naked and open to the eyes of Him to whom we must give account” (Hebrews 4:12-13).

My maternal grandmother often spoke of God and all His glorious wisdom. But, I could never wrap my head around her beliefs; therefore I always rebelled and rejected her knowledge about life and divinity. But there was something so profound in her that I was much too blind to see… then. I have never once witnessed my grandmother angered, boastful or envious, or even perturbed. I have never witnessed her in a state of lack, even when her material resources were completely depleted. I have only witnessed her overflowing with radiance, full of joy and hope with unwavering faith. Her calmness, stillness, presence and peaceful nature can all be attributed to her belief that no matter where this life might take her, Spirit would always protect her and guide her pathway. It is such a great honor and blessing to walk this earth, following her footsteps as a guide.

I have seen my Mother endure some of the toughest hardships I have ever witnessed in my life. There have even been times that those circumstances seemed to get the best of her. Times when her spirit was drowning in depths of despair, but somehow, she always resurfaced, even if battered and bruised. She is resilient and strong in ways that I can only hope to have inherited. And even when she questions her own tenacity, I see the strength of her soul shining from beneath the rubble she feels buried under.

Perhaps one of the deepest blows my mother has suffered was the loss of my grandmother. I can still sense the tragic sadness in my Mother’s heart, her longing to see that sweet smile once more, to hear her laughter and loving encouragement, to feel the warmth of her embrace one last time. I’m not sure that anything could ever prepare us for losing the ones who gave us life itself.

My heart bleeds for her! Seeing the pain residing in her deep brown eyes has spawned a hankering in me to show her the world through the brown eyes she has gifted to me, and I will try with everything in me to do so. For I perceive this chaotic world through the rose-tinted lenses I inherited from the soul of an angel, my grandmother. And I feel I need to remind my mother that I was created from the very best parts of two of the most amazing women ever to have existed in this realm. I have never viewed my grandmother’s absence of form as a loss. How can I when I can feel her spirit in the fragmented energy that surrounds me, and in the warmth of the light that illuminates my world, and even within the very essence of all that I am? She walks with me always, Just as she does with all of the women in my family. She is our angel.

Dena M. Daigle

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The Phoenix & Her Muse – A Story of Star-Crossed Lovers

“When you have removed the two factors that are destructive to relationships — when the pain-body has been transmuted and you are no longer identified with mind and mental positions — and if your partner has done the same, you will experience the bliss of the flowering of relationship. Instead of mirroring to each other your pain and your unconsciousness, instead of satisfying your mutual addictive ego needs, you will reflect back to each other the love that you feel deep within, the love that comes with the realization of your oneness with all that is. This is the love that has no opposite.”    – Eckhart Tolle

I remember that late Summer evening like it was yesterday… the way that the stars shined brighter than usual, and how the humid night air was saturated with anticipation and desire. I could literally feel my cheeks flush the brightest shade of crimson as I neared your house. My limbs began trembling the moment I turned into your driveway.  In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been more nervous about meeting anyone in my life!

It was the strangest feeling though because, for as anxious as I was, I felt more like I was reconnecting with an old flame rather than meeting someone new. I felt as though our hearts had traveled parallel to one another for many lifetimes, yet never crossed paths; at least not to our recollection. Oh, but that dream we shared…the silent lucidity I experienced that somehow, you had a very detailed account of… my vision of a sacred reunion between kindred spirits that only my soulmate could possibly be aware of.  The tale of lost lovers whose hearts were returning home, miraculously, you dreamt it too. Yet there I was, about to meet you for the very first time.

One last look of approval in the rearview mirror revealed tiny sweat beads glistening across my forehead.  “Get it together girl!” I told myself as a struggled to regain my composure.  I took a deep breath and walked to your front door with no clue about what to expect next.  As the door opened, my heart began to beat a mile a minute. The moment the moonlight lit up your face, every monarch butterfly nestled safely in the depths of my belly hastily emerged from their cocoons.  The familiarity I felt the moment we locked eyes was soothing to my soul.  Standing there before me in the darkness was the silhouette of everything I have ever wanted in a partner. That moment was absolutely electrifying!

We had spent hours talking everyday for weeks prior to us actually meeting in person, but nothing could prepare me for what I felt when our energies finally collided. It was unlike anything I have ever experienced, and the timing of it all seemed so wrong. I was in the process of trying to rebuild my life from the smoldered ruins I was rising from. I felt like I was not even half the woman you deserved me to be. I have often wondered how you, someone so real, so authentic, so kind and inspirational, so smart and handsome, so well put together, could possibly want someone like me. But somehow, you saw me for me. You saw beyond the hardened exterior to the soft-hearted soul beneath. You saw the woman who shared her love freely with others, but struggled to share it with herself.  You saw the scared little girl that was still hiding behind the brick wall she built around her heart. You saw a compassionate soul still trying to follow her path to the light. You saw what lived beneath those masks I wore for my protection, and you accepted me, ALL of me.

From that pivotal moment in time forward, we have been inseparable. Our hearts were intertwined by the red thread of fate long before we even knew it. As cliché as the phrase “love at first sight” may be, we are living proof of its existence. We have spent the last year learning everything we can about each other, growing together, making beautiful memories and turning our house into a home filled with love and laughter. Your angelic son has become as much a part of me as he would if I had given birth to him myself. The feeling of joy I experience in the presence of you two is beyond comparison and I am forever grateful for that privilege.

Now here we are, making plans for our future, standing hand in hand as we move gracefully through all of life’s tests. You have proven to me that there is absolutely nothing that we cannot get through together. You have been my backbone when my limbs were trembling, my rock when the waters got rough, my coach when I needed motivation, and my comforter when I had enough. You have been my biggest supporter and my favorite muse and I cannot wait until the day that we exchange our “I dos.”


Dena Daigle & Cory Creppel – Engaged 11/11/17

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Vibe With Your Soul Tribe

From Facebook quizzes to determine who that special person is in your life, to blogs pointing out all of the signs to look for, I believe it is safe to say that we have all heard the term “soulmate” at some point. I want you to think about that phrase for a moment though. Paint a mental image, if you will.  What do you see?  Some view soulmates as a metaphysical concept, believing that person to be someone they knew in another lifetime, or many other lifetimes even.  Others may believe the term to simply be a metaphor for someone they connect with on a spiritual level. Regardless, you are likely picturing a partnership between smitten lovers, overflowing with an abundance of romance.  Most people tend to view the notion from that aspect. But in my experience, a soulmate is not always someone you feel a sexual/romantic attraction to.  A soulmate, to me, is someone you genuinely feel connected to via mind, body and spirit.

“A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are.” – Richard Bach

According to Chinese legend, an invisible red thread of fate is tied around the ankles of those that are destined to meet one another in a certain situation, or to help each other in some form. The two people connected by the red thread are destined to be together, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. The cord of destiny may stretch or tangle, but never break. (source: Wikipedia)  This mythical tale is similar to the Western concept of a soulmate or twin flame. But what if there is an invisible thread of fate connecting us not only to our soulmates, but our entire soul tribe?

For introverted empaths like me, networking and meeting new people, particularly in social settings, is a daunting and overwhelming task.  But here in the digital age, it is typically easy to connect with people from all walks of life, in many different parts of the world. We often recognize these kindred spirits via social media and similar interest groups during exclamatory “me too!” moments, when we discover things we have in common. Sometimes, that connection is so powerful, so intense, that we feel as though we were cosmically aligned to cross paths at that very moment. Our souls energetically resonate with them on a mental, physical and spiritual level, simultaneously.  Conversation flows freely as if we’ve known them forever, and there is such a deep-rooted, harmonious bond formed between our energies, that we feel like our souls share the same frequency. We are free to be our authentic selves in the company of our tribe. That magical sensation we feel in their presence is like a little wink from the universe letting us know our hearts have a home.

Maybe our soul family has been with us all along, singing the songs of our ancestors, taking shape in various forms, helping us throughout our journey.  The relationships we form with people are much like those occurring in nature – there is a season and a reason for everything. Your soul tribe may be comprised some of the most influential people you will ever encounter. There is a universal energy consciously connecting every aspect of our lives, and it responds to the vibrational pattern emitted from our hearts. That explains why certain things, and even certain people, manifest into our lives when we need them the most. They come along, each with their own specific role; perhaps to comfort us when we need loving support and guidance, or to help us overcome an obstacle, or even to learn a valuable lesson.  Whether your connection lasts for only a brief moment or an entire lifetime, these kindred spirits can have a profound impact on your life.  Pay attention to the way your energy responds to them, for they are here on this plane with helping hands to guide us along our journey

“Soul Family – those that gather around you in your life, not connected by blood or race, but by energy and essence.  They bring unconditional love and support at the perfect times and understand and share the same mission and purpose. For you, I am grateful – we are one.” – Unknown (source: Pinterest)

#MeToo – A Series to Raise Awareness of Sexual Abuse

#MeToo –

Any sexual/intimate act should only happen if you agree to it.

If all the people who have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote “Me too” as a status, we might give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem.

I was 4 years old when my innocence was stripped from my soul right along with my red-ruffled “Day of the Week” panties that were stripped from my naked toddler body. The teenaged son of my parents’ friend, along with his raging hormones, was supposed to watch over me until my mother returned from work that evening. The things that occurred in that dark, cold house could not be accurately processed by my still-developing mind, but I knew that they were very wrong.  And I also knew, or was manipulated into believing rather, that if I were to speak a word about what happened, I would be in a lot of trouble. I was forced to believe that I would somehow be “in trouble” for having my body desecrated by the hands of a monster. That is a lot to process for a four year old, and even more to keep buried deep within.  The toxicity I entombed by remaining silent ate away at the remaining bits of my soul, long into my teenage years and even into adulthood, as I have now come to realize. This single event, along with other traumatic experiences in my adolescence, led me spiraling down a path of self-torture.

Fast forward to high school years and my self-abuse was now being accompanied by drug use and promiscuity.  Each slice of the razor blade upon my flesh, and each hand that I allowed to touch my delicate skin, was an attempt to feel something more than what I had been feeling for years.  Those self-inflicted wounds were silent cries for help from a mouth that had been sewn shut for far too long. They were not ploys for attention from a spoiled child as they were believed to be.  I just wanted to feel loved, and at the same time, I just wanted to numb the heartache that I could never speak of.  The mind of a victim is quite the paradox.

I was around 16 when I experienced my second sexual trauma. As I mentioned previously, I was making some very poor choices, which included going out to parties with much older crowds (of some pretty sketchy people, might I add), drinking, selling and taking drugs, etc.   I was asked by my friend to accompany two men (who were friends of hers at the party) to the store to pick up some more alcohol.  I guess I was security that they would return to the party and not run off with the money they were given to make the purchase. While they did, in fact, end up running off with the money, they also ran off with my blood on their hands, and with the little bit of dignity that remained within me.

While I will spare you the gruesome details, I will simply say that I was brutally raped by those two men that night after being given some type of “date-rape drug” that rendered me partially unconscious and unable to move or cry for help.  As I began regaining consciousness, I was punched in the head so hard that I was knocked out again. While my body was still fighting to come to, I was pushed out of a truck on side of the road a block away from the party and left there like a pile of rotting garbage. A friend saw me lying there and, I would imagine, assumed that I was just intoxicated and that I fell, causing injury to myself. Although they could see the knot that had formed on my head, and a few cuts, scrapes and bruises, they could not see the other damage inflicted upon me.  In fact, no one ever would.  I kept it all a secret in fear that no one would believe me anyway, as that had been my experience when I attempted to break the silence about my childhood trauma.

I thought my life couldn’t get much worse, but I was mistaken.  This pain that I kept hidden was eating me alive and the drugs were no longer helping to numb it.  The choice to remain silent forced me into a deep depression and I spiraled completely out of control.  The winding staircase to my own personal hell led to the birth of a heroin addict, but also to the rebirth of a warrior.

In a society where “rape culture” is still very much alive, it is imperative that we teach our youth the importance of speaking out against their abusers.  And as adults, it is equally vital for parents and other influential persons in a child’s life, to understand and recognize the signs of a child who is silently pleading for help.

A Letter to the Man with My Blood on His Hands

Picture shared on Facebook

I came across a photo prompt today and as I thought about all the words I would say, every emotion I was feeling came pouring out of my pen. I guess sometimes it takes this kind of event to cure writer’s block. Anyhow, this is what I came up with…

To the man with my blood on his hands,

Some say that death is the hardest pain to heal, while others say that it’s harder to mourn the loss of someone still alive… but me, oh I think that healing a broken spirit is much more difficult a task. I have mourned the loss of too many loved ones to count, and the loss of “love” even, but it has taken me 30 years to finally grieve for the loss of my innocence. I wish I could tell you just how much you broke me but I don’t even remember your name. I guess suppressing painful memories can do that to a person. What I do know is that because of you I have flinched every time a man has ever touched me. Because of you, I have built walls around my heart so high that most give up before ever coming close to reaching the summit. Because of you, I wouldn’t know real love if it slapped me in the face. And every time I’m betrayed by someone who claims to love me, my spirit breaks just a little bit more. Because of you, I’m also afraid of being alone. Because of you, I’ve allowed my flesh to be desecrated at the hands of merciless cowards. Because of you, I constantly apologize for things I have no control over, sometimes even for my own existence. Because of you…hell, who am I kidding? It’s ALL because of you. See ’cause, it is because of YOU that I fight my hardest to heal…to share my voice for all the broken little girls who can’t. And because of you, and every wrong path you led me to, I found my purpose! See I wish you no harm. I actually hope you’re well. I hope you have a very long life ahead of you with an excellent memory. And I hope your demons keep you company every night as you lay your head on your pillow. And I hope somehow, some way, you read this some day and see the face of the brave little girl you almost destroyed. You couldn’t silence me forever.

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