musings on life, love and laughter from my spoken heart to yours


Forget Storage… throw that sh*t out!!!

“Yeah but you don’t really forget when you hide it. It’s just…in storage.”

A friend of mine said this to me a few days back and I just can’t seem to shake it. The words dig down so deeply, and resonate with such truth, at least for me they do. I suppose for them to make sense to you, you may need some background information. You see we were talking about past relationships, you know romantic/love relationships. Both of us share sordid pasts, and were discussing how those pasts have affected our relationships. I mentioned that before I had gotten married I had laid all my cards on the table, you know so I could start with a “clean” slate, this is something I am pretty sure I will never do again…

Why would some-one who professes to love you use your own experiences against you to cut so deeply? Why would they take your secrets, deep dark secrets, that you have entrusted them with as a sign of your love and trust for them and use them against you, as a means to control you? As we were discussing this some icky dark words filled with so much hurt, shame and pain came out of the dark recesses of my past… BAM! Like a slap in my face as fresh as the day they were first spewed at me. Once they came forth my heart bled and I cried.

That’s when I confessed that I have taken all the pain, all the hurtful abusive words and experiences wrapped them up and hidden them from view. Pushed it all aside in an attempt to forget about it. I am not really sure who I am trying to protect by hiding it, myself – my pride, my kids, possibly even my ex. And there came her words of wisdom…

“Yeah but you don’t really forget when you hide it. It’s just…in storage.”

In storage… I had to think about that. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was true. The funny thing about burying the past, you pretend it’s been dealt with, but it hasn’t been. Putting it in storage is a way of keeping it, but not necessarily using it. It’s been packed away, never really forgotten, certainly not let go of. But in order to truly move it on it has to be thrown away. Putting it in storage is like saving it just in case you may need it one day. You know that box of keepsakes that is kept in the closet, never opened, but never forgotten, and for some reason we just can’t seem to part with the stuff in the box. But why would I choose to keep painful, heartbreaking, bitter memories that crush my spirit? Perhaps deep down I believe it? Perhaps I feel I have to own it to protect myself from going there again? I am not really sure but I am exploring and trying to understand.

It’s amazing how we can convince ourselves we have dealt with something when in reality we just stored it to be dealt with some other day.


we all need time to grieve…

I was going to leave the tragedy of recent days alone. I was going to carry on as if it never happened, partly because I do not want to draw any more attention to the situation than has already been done, and partly because as horrific and unfathomable as it is it does not affect me or my little world (that is not entirely true as it can bring me to tears and make me a useless mess at any moment if I allow it). Another reason is I feel that all the families affected deserve their time to mourn in peace; I can only imagine how hard it would be to grieve under the watchful eye of a ‘well meaning’ society (The thought makes me shudder).

But there is a flip side to this coin that all seem to have lost sight of. Now perhaps I see things the way I do because there is something desperately wrong with me. Or perhaps it is a gift (an unwanted gift). Who knows? But the young man who did what he did (he will remain nameless here) – in spite of how we want to see him, or of how we may need to see him, or how we feel, in spite of all logic – was a real living, breathing, feeling human being. He was a young man barely started in life. He is reported to have had mental illness – that was obviously not being treated as it should have been. He had a family with people in it who loved him – who still love him. Who are now grieving and trying to sort it out in their heads and hearts.

No one wants to relate to him as a real person – I understand it’s much easy to make him out as a monster. But he was a person. He had parents, siblings, grandparents, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, cousins – just like you and me and the kid next door, and somewhere in that mix of people were individuals who loved him. Individuals, who are shocked, appalled, overwhelmed and heart broken. No-one raises a child thinking they could turn out to be a mass murderer, a wife abuser, a drug addict, a molester, a rapist, a thief, etc. But it happens ALL the time. How? Why? I have no idea.

To all who are still reading… Please know that my intentions are in no way to undermine or minimalize the pain and grief of the victims. Their pain and grief is beyond comprehension and cannot, should not ever be thought of as less than that. Their pain is mind numbing, heart wrenching and all consuming I know this to be true even though I am not in their shoes. But the harsh reality is his surviving family members are victims too. Victims who will experience moments of hate and confusion. Moments where they will blame themselves. They are victims who will wonder where they went wrong and how could they not have seen. But how could they have, no-one could have seen this. And they must understand they cannot blame themselves for what he did – and neither must we. Every one of us is responsible for our own actions and cannot control the actions of others. Pointing fingers and getting angry just spreads more hate, confusion and mistrust. This is a time for love and compassion, and in time, eventually hope, healing and forgiveness will follow.

I know people will not see what I see, some will get very angry reading this, some may stop following me. That’s ok.  Just don’t respond with hate. Take time to think. Take time to ponder what can we do to help prevent this from happening again? Can we make this better for all involved? And if so how?

From myspoken-anddeeplysorrowed-heart to yours… xoxoxox