Hope. The Bible says about hope, "Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us."~~Romans 5:5, NLT
That really means a lot to me, given it's only been the last five or so years that I had any hope. Harry stole any hope I could have had when I was very small with his abuse and threats. It was progressive, happening over a period of months and years as his abuse continued ~ never-ending, unremitting, always present, larger than life, always in my face, slapping, mocking, defiling, shocking, taking my breath away, suffocating, strangling my hope ~ until it was dead, gone from my life, and I was left wanting to be dead myself. I tried suicide nine times, and almost succeeded a number of those times, not realizing that God had placed in me an alter named Wordsworth, whose job was hope, and whose job was to keep me alive until my own hope could be restored once again.
I don't think I'm done writing about this. It's already taken me a very long time to write this tiny amount. My excuses are innumerable: getting the details worked out so that Mom's long-term care insurance actually kicks in and starts paying; I'm actually doing some artwork; I'm reading lots of books; I'm on Facebook far too much; I'm watching way too much TV, yada, yada, yada, etc., etc… The first two ~ Mom's insurance and my artwork are probably valid, but the rest? Nope! So with that said, I'll leave this topic for another time…
That really means a lot to me, given it's only been the last five or so years that I had any hope. Harry stole any hope I could have had when I was very small with his abuse and threats. It was progressive, happening over a period of months and years as his abuse continued ~ never-ending, unremitting, always present, larger than life, always in my face, slapping, mocking, defiling, shocking, taking my breath away, suffocating, strangling my hope ~ until it was dead, gone from my life, and I was left wanting to be dead myself. I tried suicide nine times, and almost succeeded a number of those times, not realizing that God had placed in me an alter named Wordsworth, whose job was hope, and whose job was to keep me alive until my own hope could be restored once again.
I don't think I'm done writing about this. It's already taken me a very long time to write this tiny amount. My excuses are innumerable: getting the details worked out so that Mom's long-term care insurance actually kicks in and starts paying; I'm actually doing some artwork; I'm reading lots of books; I'm on Facebook far too much; I'm watching way too much TV, yada, yada, yada, etc., etc… The first two ~ Mom's insurance and my artwork are probably valid, but the rest? Nope! So with that said, I'll leave this topic for another time…
