Torture

When I was quite young my beautiful grandmother put a picture similar to this up on her refrigerator. I have never forgotten it. (I am secretly rooting for the frog!)

Why torture?

Because that is what I feel inside sometimes. The wounds are still so real. The pain may not manifest itself in the form of scars. You may not be able to see physical signs of my wounds. That's because my wounds have been blown out through my heart. The tissue is still tender, raw, and trying to heal. The wounds are so deep that sometimes it's even hard to breathe when I am flooded by tears of memories.

Maybe that's how I can tell that I still have a heart and caring for humanity. Because I still mourn when I hear of tragedies that are close to my own life's experience. (Death, Pain, War, Torture, Abandonment, Injustice, & Fear to name a few.)

I thought things would be different after this ride, and some things are....Don't get me wrong. But there are other things that are still trying to heal. I can't believe I did something so amazing :) The Ride to Recovery was truly remarkable. I think that physical activity will play a big part in my recovery.

Thursday was my first day back to school. I was anxious and nervous about the normal stuff that comes up. My mind went blank when it came time to introduce myself. (sounds ridiculous, but I think I froze for at least 5 seconds with an um....) I mean really? Who can't introduce them self? Where did all of this social anxiety come from? I mean Come on? I played the piano and played in recitals for years. I sang with my family from the podium in church. I have been in choirs, given speeches, led soldiers with confidence. You would think that the butterflies in the stomach over a personal introduction would have migrated south for the winter. But No....The Butterflies of anxiety found me, along with the thunder cloud of impending doom storming over my heart.

Throughout class I made a few sarcastic comments and laughed. After all I am in an ethics class, and THAT subject just begs for satire sarcasm and laughter. There were several witty comments and enjoyed the first few hours.

I was doing alright until the subject of business ethics turned to U.S. Governmental ethics, Geneva convention, Cuba, torture, wife beating (and where it is socially acceptable), and other subjects that make my skin crawl. Not only does my skin start to shiver, but that's when my memories rush in. The ones where I have experienced tragedies first hand. And with that rush comes melting of that Ice around my heart that I use as a protection. That ice then forms itself in tears that flows down my face like a river.

I wanted so badly to raise my hand and say something, but the frog hanging on to my throat was making it very difficult to talk. (It may have been wringing my neck as shown in the picture above). I did not want any more attention added to the tears. So I stayed and chose not to raise my hand.

So I turned my mind to the sound of my breath and tried to focus on slowing down the diaphragmatic pull in my belly. Ah......It worked. The tears still streamed, but at least my mind was distracted from so many of the awful things that I have experienced.

The tears that just don't seem to stop when I wish I could just push them back. I don't want other people to see the hole that life's tragedies have left in my heart. I want it to close. To heal. To stop hurting. I am on my way, but the journey may be long. Thanks for joining the journey fellow readers and family members. This is it. This is the real day to day moments of my pain.

The lecture in my class was on different theories about ethics, and whether or not people are born with morals and values, or if they are acquired through life experience. I am still trying to believe that there is good in humanity!!!

So I am going to go with the debate that we are all children of God born with the Light of Christ! I think that our spirits yearn to feel things that are spiritual. Faith is not only a feeling, it's something tangible. It's real! I know because I have touched it, along with hope and love. The purest form of love is Charity. (Deep in the center I know it to be true) even if my life's experiences have shown different results to my hypothesis. My story has shown me suffering. So where is the Joy? It comes when we are trying to be like Jesus. Learning to serve others. I really and truly believe that people want to be good and to show love and kindness to their fellow men, women, children, animals etc.

There may always be corruption in this world, and it's so easy to get sucked into the negative.

The discussion may have been hard, but I will persevere! I have Hope for the future.

Not only that, but my prayers were answered when dear Paula answered her phone.

I love you!