Painted Walls

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“...I’ve tried time and time again
To move on from who we were then.
I’ve built walls and painted them,
But it don’t matter where I live,
You live on...”
-Blue Suede Couch
Lyrics from Song by Lacy Cavalier

Thinking of all the walls that I have built and painted throughout my life…  I’ve let my “WALLS” down, and watched as chaos, ugliness, and demons attacked my heart and my love.

I’ve tried putting up new walls, different than before.  Time and time again my walls were demolished.

My walls now… well, they are jaded and hardened by numerous repairs.  There are parts that look as if they were meant to be part of a war scene - sloppy patched places, rubble still on the floor from whatever explosion tore the wall apart.  Other places are merely covered with a pretty picture, not truly repaired at all. 

Each day is a new opportunity to repair myself, to repair the damage that has been done.  The scars I carry within are reminders of the abuse I have endured.  They are also reminders of the strength I have gained, the blooming lotus that I have become because I walked away from the dark and murky mess of abuse.  I am by no means perfect, and never will be.  My “walls” may be damaged, but I know the foundation beneath me is resilient and sound.  I have found that I am stronger than the person that inflicted pain and created wounds.  I am strong and fierce because I rose above the turmoil, I reached out for help, and I started the journey of rescuing myself.


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my little ditty...

When I started my journey of coming face-to-face with my past, I knew that I would one day share my story. What I did not know, was that sharing my story would play a major role in uncovering and healing from what I had experienced.

Rewind roughly nineteen years. I was a high school senior, barely eighteen, wide-eyed, gullible, and in love. I am sure you know where my story starts…the classic young and in love couple, thinking that nothing could break their bond. With our head in the clouds, against wishes and advice from loved ones, thinking we were some type of, “Jack & Diane”, we eloped in a randomly picked courthouse in Louisiana. Ironically, that courthouse was destroyed during Hurricane Katrina, and so was our marriage five years later.

It’s the chaos during those five years that resulted in me losing my identity and leaving me broken. Blindsided by verbal and mental abuse led me down the dark road of an unhealthy, abusive relationship and marriage.

Some might be wondering why I want to share my story. Why would anyone want to expose their darkest secrets to the world? For me, I am through bottling up corruptive and negative thoughts. I have awakened the beast of fear that I tucked away in the far corners of my mind, and now, I am ready to let that beast go, to move forward without fear. My hope is that of help, that my words comfort someone that has a beast of their own.

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