A tear from the eyes of an angel as the day begins. With the blessing of a new day not given to all. Only the life that we are allowed to live and it is only this one that means anything. Passion is something that most people try to understand and for me it is what I do love. The one thing is that we can all enjoy it during any day of the year. The hard part is finding it in your soul as you move forward in this life.
For some it is easy and they live it every day without shame. There are many things that require passion but nothing more than love. It is something that can bring couples together or tear them apart. In my experience I have only known it in my work in the kitchen where my first true love was until it was taken from me. Now my passion is in my writing because it is something that no one can tell me that I can not do anymore because of my schizophrenia. I have never known that kind of love with someone else. The reason for this is because of the hurt that I suffered when I was young from the town that I moved to and for ten years of
physical and mental abuse from that town.
People have told me to let it go, but they are not at war with people who do not know what they did to me years later. That trauma that I suffered haunts me to this very day because I think that I am dreaming and I am going to wake up in that town back in 1996 again before we moved. Every night I am afraid to sleep because of that horror and getting close to someone scars me. When I do fall asleep, I am scared to open my eyes when I hear my alarm. My body knows that I am not there, but my mind does not.
I have passion but it is rooted in my writing where I am able to make a world where I am in control. People say it is in your past and that is where it should stay, to what I say to them is live my life and tell me that after they have taken a walk in my boots. Only in my writing I find peace and love as I can write it. I am not saying that my life is any worse than someone else’s because we all have battles. My battle is different where I suffer from my illness and emotional scars.
I have searched for answers to why this happened to me and still I am not sure what the reason was for it. Over the years after I left that town I have done well for myself, but I do not know how to show feelings or much less know how to feel. I sit here and wonder what would my life be like if it did not happen to me. Would I have had suicidal thoughts, would I be driven to out do everyone in everything I do? Would I be someone that does not take no as an answer? Would I have taken the chances that I have throughout my adult life? Would I have written and published my books? These are the things that run through my mind on a daily basis.
Picture yourself at the age of seven. Young and with hope and dreams. Then watch as your innocence and childhood is torn away from you for ten years. Being called stupid all the time, being put down day in day out for ten years. Being called a woman because you work in a kitchen because you want to save money to further your education. Imagine being beaten down by five or six guys because you walked past them in the hallway and the teachers stand and laugh. Picture it.
They had passion and it was to destroy me, but as I look back at what I have done since I was seventeen, I have accomplished more in my adult life than any of them could imagine. I have finished college three separate time, one for cooking and the other two business and office administration. I have written and published books and my first being in 2016. The passion that I had was greater than they could have ever understood.
The days of that town are behind me and as I write this, I am closing that chapter of my life and I am starting a new one now at the age of forty one. This day forward is the beginning for the new me with new hopes and dreams that will come to be reality. The emotional scar will remain but just a scar that will remind me of the true strength that I have.
Passion, what is it for you?
re: Oct. 8 2023 post. I admire your courage. When it comes to being a victim of cruelty, the past is never really past. Glad you have kept going; others need to know they are not alone.