Commonly, we dont have many memories from before the age of 5. I dont have many. But I have a few. Sometimes I have flashbacks. Sometimes its a flood. There weren’t many years of memory-making childhood before I learned to be afraid. Of men. Of law enforcement. Of domestic conflicts. Of raised voices. Turned to yelling. Turned to screaming. Turned to fighting. Turned to broken glass, bleeding knuckles. Means of egress sabotaged to ensure no escape. The denial of safety or calm or peace. The war is in here. You can hide or run away. But if you fought back you paid the price. If you left who would defend her? Some of us stood in between, some of us just stood and watched. I was too little, too weak. But I was learning all along. What love looks like. What families do to each other. For each other. How tones can change. How that meant everything had changed. I didnt know it then, but my heart had already begun telling my body how to flee. How to freeze. How to fawn.  How to fight. Somehow the body always knows. Even before the crisis happens. My heart pounds in anticipation. It grips my ribcage like barbed wire as it braces for the impact of the next blow. My voice sinks into my chest. My jaw clenches. Tears swell. I begin to shiver or sweat. Shiver. Sweat. Shiver. Sweat. Hold back the tears. You’re on defense still. Dont you remember, who will protect her if you leave? I never once wondered… “who’s going to protect me?” It wasnt all bad. It wasnt all scary. But I never unearned who to fear. I learned what love was. Love was un-owed apologies as peace offerings. So I was sorry. Love was jumping in first. So I leapt. Love was dialing 911. So I called. Love was fighting. So I got brave. Love was staying. So I stayed. But I’m so just tired of being afraid.

“People who commit suicide don’t do it to end their lives, they do it to end their pain.

And I never really understood that until I became someone who lives with suicide.

You have to choose every single day to live with the pain instead of ending it.”

Smoke rings surround our noses.

Lungs burned by withered roses.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Should we rise or fall is up to us.

A tainted innocence, broken dreams long lost.

Keep us tied to the sin that our souls it will cost.

Nature vs nurture?

Or a deeper darker torture?

Burning embers of flames unseen.

History repressed our spirits demeaned.

The forgotten memories, chaos and trauma.

Flowed into our beings even before our momma.

Hand chosen, knit together, each hair on our heads.

Strongholds and purpose, bestowed and blessed.

Burdens to carry, crosses to bear.

A peculiar inheritance had been handed us there.

We followed and doted, for approval eyes begged.

And then inhale together, let’s jump off the edge.

Sparks and wind bring bridges down into water.

Drowning under fire, still children of our Father.

Ashes, ashes, to dust we shall return.

What we didn’t know then, now could we learn?

It may seem appropriate, helpful, and normal to say, “Just tell it to stop”…

But PTSD doesn’t work like that.

Sometimes the enemy comes with spiraling negative thoughts of destructive lies.

But sometimes what surfaces begs to be remembered.

Sometimes we don’t get the Why until later, if at all.

No one ever really asks me about what happened with my brother.

That’s okay.

But no one ever asks me about all the good in him either.

And that makes me sad.

The things that fall through the cracks.

The memories of joy in between the chaos.

The Biblical meaning of his name is: “Appointed” or “Placed”.

A chosen figure. Used for God’s purpose. After Cain killed Abel. To carry on the lineage.

Though in Egyptian mythology he is the god of chaos and destruction; storms and deserts.

A brother and murderer associated with violence, disorder, and natural disaster.

To me, he was both.

I reminisce and weep silently over photos of faces I feel like I never even knew.

His grew sad and fearful, fast, at an early age; his eyes changed vividly.

I wonder what happened to him, my big brother.

I wonder when, he must have been so young.

Maybe it was just heavy being first-born.

We all came so fast afterwards. Maybe he got lost.

Maybe no one remembered to see him.

Maybe he had to do too much to survive too soon.

What weight was he carrying? Who’s weight?

Everyone’s? Mom, dad, the 3 siblings birthed before he was 5, the 1 adopted after with special needs.

Where did you go, Seth?

When no one saw you… Or came to save you… Hold you… Teach you… Love you…

I remember swimming in the river, I was maybe 8 or 9, Seth was 13 or 14…

The undercurrent or Eddy grabbed me, and although a strong little swimmer, it pulled me under…

I’d never been caught in something so forceful and devouring before, I remember it felt hopeless to even fight for life.

When my big brother shoved me onto his shoulder, drowning himself in my place.

I didn’t even think twice, I just used him to lift myself up, swimming with all my might, pushing him down below me.

I’d have been nothing without him in that moment, I instinctively climbed his shoulders to safety.

He would’ve drowned for me. To save me. He almost did.

Some of it was chaos. Our lives.

Some violence, destruction, disorder.

Sometimes it was a desert.

Sometimes it was a storm.

Sometimes family hurts you.

Sometimes family saves you.

We’re all just trying our hardest to do our best.

With what little we have and what little we know.

We are lucky we even survived to tell about it.

How I never stopped loving you.

Lately when I cry it’s because I miss my kids.

But today I’m sad because I miss the kids we never got the chance to be.

The kids we were before disaster stole everything.

When I resisted the drink I craved the grave

When I resisted suicide I craved the drink

I craved to be numb, I knew I was going to die

I had to stop, I begged and bartered with God

Take everything, all that I am and all that I’ve got

Please just don’t ever let me drink again

Please don’t ever let me leave my sons like “that”

The phenomenon of God’s Grace saved me

And now I crave only peace and serenity

Until God takes me to my Heavenly home

I not only choose to live, I crave it desperately

I do not know how, and I do not know why

I am so blessed, grateful and humbled

What a miracle it is, just to be alive

I survived suicide by not drinking

I survived alcoholism by not killing myself

You see, they walk hand in hand

Had I picked up a drink

I would have never lived again

It is all by God’s Grace alone

The first time I was raped
I was thirteen
I’d never been drunk or high before
Yet somehow I remember everything vividly

I lied and said I was fifteen
Cause everyone was so much older
And I wanted to fit in
I’d never met this young man before
Only known of him, seen him in passing
A friend of a friend
It didn’t take long after the shots and bong hits
For him to lead me down the dark hallway
Into a pitch black bedroom
My innocence gone as fast as he took off my clothes
My virginity spilled onto the sheets
I’d never had a pool of blood in my pants before
I didn’t even know what to do with a maxipad
I left that party with a piece of me stolen
And I drank for the next 20 years.

Into battle on high horse

the first stones to cast

With troops and our weapons

for justice at last

Sin consumed me

through creeping devilish lies

A hypocrite endlessly

seeking to be justified

Swords drawn to the speck

in the eye of another

Strike to kill despite planks

far worse than our brother’s

A wretch and a liar

a lost thief like me

Screams belligerent defenses

yet refuses to see

I celebrated victory

while tortured with remorse

My soul defeated by hauntings

of unrighteous wars

I’d dragged comrades and innocents

along into hell

Determined to prove

my version of right should prevail

The sore and the tired

through muck and the mire

Life sacrificed blindly

at the first line of fire

Loves and futures

families and homes

Destroyed without cause

in my wake breathless bones

I’d stolen joy and peace

pursuing other’s convictions

Deferring my guilt

and denying my own addictions

How many with scars

on bodies and hearts

Only remnants remaining

lying broken in shards

How undeserving I am

of mercy or grace

How deserving I am

of the damnation I face

Yet the Shepherd came searching

the flock left behind

He came bringing Salvation

leaving the other ninety nine

He called me by name

breathing into dry bones

Child of God it is over

it is finished He spoke

Forgiveness was mine

right there in the dirt

With bleeding knuckles I clenched

with all inside me that hurt

When blinded in valleys

on the darkest of nights

I will not be afraid

for He’s the way truth and life

Born on Earth in a manger

flesh and bone of Himself

From rock bottom He saved me

from the devil myself

Unworthy to be blessed

to ever hang by His side

He chose me to rescue

if even He’d die

Rejoicing with gladness

in each day He has made

For I know already

He has conquered the grave

Heaven is mine through the Son

and His redemption from death

With unconditional love

and His name in my breath

I am now found when once

I was so hopelessly lost

Because Jesus to Calvary

Has carried my cross

There are some things

You can only see in the dark

Him: I want you to know, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

…

Her: I want you to know, I’ve been searching for you for a very long time.