A Word, of Hope.

A word of hope

From the depths of a tortured life, I desperately have swam through the ocean of tears, born from heart. And like a phoenix rising from the ashes I will prevail.

Many of you may have noticed my lack of blogging for the past two years. Life(and ofc Allah) sometimes has other plans for us and we have nothing to do but move with the current and make the best of it. As a victim of abuse, I have cried many tears, I have hurt myself and others, I have delayed my needs and sabotaged healthy relationships to try and cope with my heartache. I have mourned for the little girl I used to be, and all the rights that were stolen from her at such a young age. I mourn for the adolescence that was shadowed with confusion. I have wept for the remainder that still bleeds into my adulthood.

And yet, I smile. I laugh, I strive. I am strong. What is shrouded in darkness will always come to light, and the truth, cannot be hidden, justice is served, and love can be found.

Grief is an amazing thing because it is intense, and involved, but once you do it, its over, and you can move on. I have now been left for years, without any semblance of closure for the abuse I experienced as a child, and as time went by only more abuse was piled on. I have been carrying around a deep hate and fear of “love” from a seriously tender young age. It had not occurred to me ever to grieve. I was taught emotion was a bad, terrible thing that should never happen. And often times I refrained from even showing emotion at home because it would be later used against me. Anything I enjoyed was taken and anything I disliked was increased. Eventually, emotions stopped being an option, so I would internalize everything, and feel nothing. Numb on the surface, and suffocating deep inside. I felt encased in life, in time, in breath. So here I am, 21 years old, going to counseling 3 times a week, when I realize, crying actually makes me feel better. Letting go, in a safe, appropriate environment, helps. It was never safe before and so it never happened.

The crying is always intense these days, and I often need to call someone for support to stabilize myself, and my negative thinking, but there is a joyful feeling when the grieving is over. As though I carried mountains of selfishness, and hate, and compensation, and apology and oppression within me for at least a decade, and finally a severe volcanic eruption purged my soul of the deepest fires of hell. The hellish reality that was my existence. Soon after the clouds of ash dissipate and I am left to feel the shine of the gracious Sun on my face. My soul grows, and I understand the purpose of Allah's plan, and why I must bare this burden.

Some people say, be careful what you wish for, and others don't understand God's purpose. When you ask Allah for strength, he gives you something hard to make you strong. When you ask to be more patient, he gives you an impossible situation to battle. In other words, if you wanna run a marathon, you better get your energy drink and your sneakers. This, is life.

My passion in life is to help. To help others with the impossibility life can be. I have been told, I excel in this area, and can truly help those I see suffering. I do not owe this ability to anything or anyone but Allah. He has blessed me with the knowledge of this world, and how to overcome it, and -that- is why I can do what I do. So I no longer ask, why? Why? Why? Why? Had I not been brutally whipped as a child, or beaten, or tormented mentally on several levels, or treated like a sexual object, I would not be who I am. I would not be able to hold the weight of my brothers and sisters in humanity, and I would be completely unable to relate to the strife of being so degraded on a consistent basis. I would not, be me. And through the great leaps of life I have learned to love me. And I have learned when it is safe to let others “love” me. As a wise woman once said said so articulately; I will remove the scarlet letters from my chest, and take the hand of the little girl I used to be, and I will wait for a man to come along, who can give me the -truth- of how much, he can really love me. -Miss Mayda De Valle.

Healing is not, never feeling the pain anymore. Not feeling the pain is repressing and bottling the hurt inside of you, letting it harbor into a polluted mess. These days, I cry daily, and I have never been happier in my life. I have been more scared than ever because I've stopped avoiding my fears, and yet I rest easier. You want strength? Step up to the plate, and **ask for help**.

The very hardest thing for me was realizing I -could not- do it alone. It was not possible. Trusting someone else with my feelings, my love, my reality, was by far more trying than anything else. There is a satisfaction gained when you learn to trust yourself though, and stop second guessing.

For those of you who understand. You are strong, you have held your pain inside your souls for so long. Be brave enough to let it out now. Have faith in The Creator, and Controller of All. Have faith in the one dealing the cards of your life, and make the best of the Hand he deals you. Even if getting out of bed in the morning is your biggest problem, you are a CHAMP for doing it. Doesn't matter how hard the challenge seems, if it's a challenge, and you are trying (even if you aren't necessarily succeeding) you are a hero. Bold, and BRAVE. Give yourself the credit you deserve.

This is my word of hope to you, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Just take off the blindfold.