Write about the three most important songs in your life — what do they mean to you?
Nailing Brahms’ Hungarian Dance Number 5 on your alto sax. Making perfect pulled pork tacos. Drawing what you see. Or, writing a novel. Each requires that you make practice a habit.
Today, try free writing. To begin, empty your mind onto the page. Don’t censor yourself; don’t think. Just let go. Let the emotions or memories connected to your three songs carry you.
Today’s twist: You’ll commit to a writing practice. The frequency and the amount of time you choose to spend today — and moving forward — are up to you, but we recommend a minimum of fifteen uninterrupted minutes per day.
It’s baffling how much i hear people talk about weakness, about something they don’t understand. The construction of something they would never let happen or couldn’t see themselves letting happen, is so ridiculously confusing. They talk like the aspects they couldn’t see themselves doing is somehow… bad. They talk intimately about these men and women, and children with black eyes, and yellow and red and blue bruises. This is something they could never see themselves letting be done to them, and that gets me both laughing and distressed. How would they know about what it feels like to be someone who can’t help but see themselves let it happen? What would they know about the thoughts and compassion that comes from being “weak?”
I overhear people talk about people in abusive relationships. They talk about how she’s desperate, or sad, or weak…and it hurts me. I know what it’s like to make excuses for abuse. I know what goes behind the guilt, and self deprecation. It’s impossible to understand why someone can show you so much compassion and then unleash such pain…so you find yourself trying to reason that it must be a sort of punishment. They’re trying to make you a better person, buy hurting you. Make you more likeable. They are hurting you because it’s the only way to teach what’s right and wrong… And you want to learn. You want to be better. You want to do better. You want that affection, so you take the pain. You accept the hit. You accept the hot and cold.
I know…i know now that i’m not broken. I don’t need someone to show me how to be better. I know that…but it doesn’t stop the doubt. It doesn’t stop the love i feel for those that hurt me. I loved them not for the abuse, but for the kindness and love and affection. Sometimes, even, i feel like getting upset over it something small that usually escalates to more abusive mentality…but then i think that its not worth souring the mood. They’ve been doing better. They haven’t hurt me in so long. It’s only one here. It’s only one there. It’s fine. It’s fine if they’re too rough with me. I’ve dealt with worse. They do it to be affectionate, they say.
Listen to me. What i’m saying is that i don’t take it because i’m weak. I don’t take it because i’m desperate. I don’t take it because i’m sad. It’s out of compassion. I know this is self destructive. I know that it’s something i should get out of, but this is a place where i’ve chosen to be and you can sit there and judge me, but just know that i’ve taken more than you can imagine. I’ve taken more than you, because i’m strong. I’ve learned what it feels like to be weak, and taking the hits aren’t that. I’ve been through this much pain and because of that i can forgive them. When they can’t control themselves, I can stop them from hurting me. I can…and i do. So i want you all to know that it’s never the abusers who take the hits, so they can “never see themselves taking that sort of thing.” Maybe before you throw around your own misconceptions about something you couldn’t even understand . You never know that you’re the abuser.
and suddenly like that i’ve realized something
why don’t i just leave? Why don’t i never talk to these people again? They are my family…i’m not afraid to leave them. I don’t mind being alone. It’s just something…binding about family. Something ingrained in birth to never let go of…maybe i should let go.
E for Extinction – Thousand Foot Krutch
A Thousand Years – Christina Perri
War – Poets of the Fall.