From The Pliers: The question that occurs to me tonight as I follow the progress of your reclamation project is, What is the singularly most important thing that any given reader of your blog can do for you, with you, or on your behalf as s/he or reads your words?
To be an effect. To be affected...
There are remarkably unique readers here. I wrote to another reader that I want my readers to take from my words exactly what they need, not what I want them to need. That would be rather selfish of me as I have spent a lifetime being told what to feel, what not to feel, and how to feel. Here is not the place for that.
I began writing here to keep a journal. One out of ink and out of nosey hands. I love my family but one member in particular likes to read my spilled guts. I'm anonymous here and so I write freely. I have in fact shared printed pages of this site in person but that is as far as I have gotten.
In my writing you will find love. I deeply love my daughter and my husband. On paper I am not capable of love. I believed that lie for far too long. Love is what drives me to succeed in this; to excel at being whole.
My love goes beyond those who live in my home as well. This is a bold love; a love that hopes and believes for the best. This love hopes that every time my father calls that he will be calling to tell me he has changed. This love hopes that my mother found the end of her turmoil. This love envelops hate, consumes despair and braids the three into something fierce and sharp. My love for my parents cuts and and shreds but loves these imperfect people because they gave me life and they did not kill me; this is the best I got from them. Underneath the shards of pain, I love them. Not for what they did but rather for what they didn't.
In these pages the closed mind, the unscathed will find truth. There are those who hold tightly to a small little world where nothing all that bad happens. It does. To children and adults alike. An awareness can be found here as brutal words are wrapped around the perspective of a small child. It is hard to ignore.
And lastly, for the broken, for the survivor, for the lost; there is hope. What I write is only my version of hope so seek your hope out as well. But take from me what you need even if it is just the smallest understanding that you are not alone.
Because you are not.
For those who are able, take from me the awareness that there are others like me; your neighbors, your friends, the child in your own child's class who forces a smile but carries a frown that is just a little too deep for a tiny face.
What can a reader do? Please do not waste my woundings. Take what you need.
Be an effect. Be affected by love, truth, hope...