Category Archives: Forgiving your Parents

Jan24

Writer’s Block Is Not a Block of Writers…

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Writer’s Block Is Not a Block of Writers…

…though it might be nice if it were, because then I’d have people around to motivate me to write. I’ve had the hardest time even wanting to write, which is unusual for me, because I love writing. Committing my thoughts to (computer) paper is one of my favorite things to do, and when I can’t do it because I’ve lost the desire to write is frustrating and heartbreaking all rolled into one.

But I have to do something!! So maybe I’ll just sit down and write. Write what? I don’t know, but I have to do something to break the logjam! So I’ll write whatever comes into my head, or maybe I’ll use some of my poems. That’s what I’ll do, I’ll use some of my poems. The first one is called The Murder of a Soul.

Many eyes watching, but ignoring
the obvious pain, the visible wound.
Many ears hearing, but denying
the silent scream, the cry of agony.
Many people knowing, but spurning
the knowledge of the murder of a soul.

But…

Though eyes ignored, the stars saw.
Though ears denied, the rocks heard.
Though people spurned, God knew
and wept.

S.A. Kuriakos & Elliot
©July 14, 1990

I wrote this poem after I figured out that I started picking holes in my cuticles when I was about two years old because I was trying to get someone, anyone, to notice that I was in peril because of Harry’s threats and abuse.

O earth, do not conceal my blood. Let it cry out on my behalf. ~ Job 16:18, NLT.

I couldn’t use words because Harry had told me he would kill me if I told anyone what he was doing to me, and he played Russian Roulette with one of his revolvers between my legs so I would understand that he meant what he said.

There was no way that I could know at two or three years old that the gun had blanks in it, so I believed him, and had to become a liar as a result. I forgive him for ruining my reputation! It took many years before anyone would believe that I wasn’t a liar, when I had no choice but to lie if I wanted to stay alive!

I forgive him for planting terror in my heart! I forgive him for being a monster!

And then there’s this little ditty, called simply Time.

Time.
A broad subject from beginning to end.
Irretrievable, irreplaceable commodity.
The only substance
present since just after God.
Visibly invisible,
invented by God
to forever
and indelibly
remind us of our mortality
and His immortality.

S.A. Kuriakos & Elliot
©June 21, 1990

And then there’s this lovely little poem written by one of my alters named Courtney, who was about three or four years old. She was very sweet and quite lovable. It’s called Things I Like. And because she was such a little girl her spelling and grammar weren’t very good at times.

I like ice cream.
My tongue becomes chocolate
for awhile.

I like butterflies.
They flit through the air
like rainbows dancing.

I like pussywillows.
Ther small furry kittys
on a stick.

I like crayons.
I can draw pictures
of inside my heart.

I like bears.
Ther fuzzy peple
safe to love.

I like hearts.
Maybe one will love me
someday?

S.A. Kuriakos & Courtney
©July 15, 1992

I wrote all these poems a long time ago, while I was still multiple. It would be another ten or more years before I would be integrated, and once I was integrated, sadly, I was no longer able to write poetry. For some reason that gift was lost once the alters who did that were integrated into the whole of who I am. I’ve always believed that writing poetry was a gift from God, and I’ve asked Him repeatedly to be able to do it again. I guess maybe I just need to be patient. On the other hand, the poetry was always used as an outlet for our pain, so maybe I need to be willing to give up that purpose to God, as well as be willing to accept another reason and motivation for its use.

And last but not least, there’s this one, called Remember Lot’s Wife, or Pillar of Salt.

Never look back,
your past will only haunt
and regret you.

Sweat drips
in salt-bloody heaps,
as I strain forward
while looking backward,
and run into trees on the way
because I can’t see the future
for looking at the past.

A pillar of salt is my destiny
unless I learn
to keep my heart looking forward.

S.A. Kuriakos
©January 23, 2025

Cool! I guess I’m not done writing poetry! I just finished that poem myself, without benefit of alters. Granted, I only edited the last couple of words, but it’s a start. It’s a start! Thank you Jesus!!

I started writing this post with the goal in mind of ending the long period of writer’s block, and just the fact that I was able to get as much down as I did with all the poems is very pleasing to me. But I like to end my posts with Scripture, so…

12Not that I have already attained this – that is, I have not already been perfected – but I strive to lay hold of that for which Christ Jesus also laid hold of me. 13Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself to have attained this. Instead I am single-minded: Forgetting the things that are behind and reaching out for the things that are ahead, 14with this goal in mind, I strive toward the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. ~ Philippians 3:12-14, New English Translation.

Jun20

Trust. Trust?? Trust Who? Trust What?

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Throughout the long time that I’ve been dealing with chronic diarrhea, I’ve been praying for God to heal me, but all I’ve really gotten from God was Him telling me to trust. Just trust. And I’ve gotten to the point that I’m frustrated and discouraged and disheartened, because my activities are severely limited and so is my diet. Just about everything I eat causes an attack of diarrhea, or so it seems.

My doctor suggested maybe I had developed a sensitivity to gluten after the surgery on my knee last January, so I bought a lot of gluten-free food. I’ve been eating it, but I can’t really tell if it’s making a difference, because I still have episodes sometimes. I don’t have any of the symptoms of Crohn’s disease except for the diarrhea (no skin rashes, abdominal cramping, or bloating).

Another issue that’s cropped up because of the diarrhea is the problem I have with taking showers (there are times after a particularly bad attack where I have no choice but to take one). This has been an issue for me for a long time because one of the main places Harry (my biological father) abused me was in the shower. The first abuse memory I had was of him forcing me to have oral sex with him in the shower when I was about two years old. I’ve had memories of him making me have sex with his friends in the shower, and him paying them money for the experience. It was never very much money, usually a dollar or two, but money always exchanged hands. It was the fatherly version of human trafficking. So, as you might guess, I don’t like taking showers, because oftentimes when I do, I have flashbacks.

I think the point of the money was to let me know that I was of very little worth to him. He sold me to his friends in the amount specified, never more than a couple of dollars. One time it was $1.53, and he told me that was what I was worth to him. Thankfully God has shown me conclusively that Harry was lying about that, though in his mind he was telling the truth. I don’t know why he hated me so much, but I forgive him. And I forgive the men with whom he forced me to have sex as well.

I’ve tried to figure if he was disappointed because I wasn’t a boy, or something like that, but if that was what his problem was, the genetics of my gender were his responsibility, not mine! So if he’s going to hate anyone it should have been himself, not me! Talk about projection!

I forgive him! And I forgive them too!

I’m reminded that Jesus was betrayed by Judas Iscariot for thirty pieces of silver.

14Then Judas Iscariot, one of the twelve disciples, went to the leading priests 15and asked, “How much will you pay me to betray Jesus to you?” And they gave him thirty pieces of silver. 16From that time on, Judas began looking for an opportunity to betray Jesus. ~ Matthew 26:14-16, NLT.

The point in bringing up the stuff about the shower is that everytime I have to take a shower now, I feel like God is bullying me into taking showers again, because I went for a long period where I didn’t take them. During the quarantine I wasn’t going anywhere, and it was just easier to not take them because when I did I had flashbacks. I can’t smell anything except gardenias and jasmine, as I got punched in the nose when I was in the seventh grade, and it did nerve damage, so I have to ask my friends if I want to know anything about what smells good or bad, or if there’s any smell at all.

This diarrhea has been going on for so long that it’s hard for me to know who to trust ~ or not trust ~ at this point. There are times when I’ll have an attack, and then I’ll have another one on the heels of the previous attack before I’ve even had time to leave the bathroom. Yesterday was like that. It feels like my body has turned into a leaky sieve and it’s impossible to plug it up. And the thing is, I don’t understand why God isn’t answering my prayers and healing me. I’m just supposed to trust. Trust what?? Trust who??

AARRGGHH!!!

O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? ~ Romans 7:24, NKJV.

I feel like a modern-day version of Psalm 88,

1O LORD, God of my salvation, I cry out to you by day. I come to you at night. 2Now hear my prayer; listen to my cry. 3For my life is full of troubles, and death draws near. 4I am as good as dead, like a strong man with no strength left. 5They have left me among the dead, and I lie like a corpse in a grave. I am forgotten, cut off from your care. 6You have thrown me into the lowest pit, into the darkest depths. 7Your anger weighs me down; with wave after wave you have engulfed me.
Selah
8You have driven my friends away by making me repulsive to them. I am in a trap with no way of escape. 9My eyes are blinded by my tears. Each day I beg for your help, O LORD; I lift my hands to you for mercy. 10Are your wonderful deeds of any use to the dead? Do the dead rise up and praise you?
Selah
11Can those in the grave declare your unfailing love? Can they proclaim your faithfulness in the place of destruction? 12Can the darkness speak of your wonderful deeds? Can anyone in the land of forgetfulness talk about your righteousness? 13O LORD, I cry out to you. I will keep on pleading day by day. 14O LORD, why do you reject me? Why do you turn your face from me? 15I have been sick and close to death since my youth. I stand helpless and desperate before your terrors. 16Your fierce anger has overwhelmed me. Your terrors have paralyzed me. 17They swirl around me like floodwaters all day long. They have engulfed me completely. 18You have taken away my companions and loved ones. Darkness is my closest friend. ~ Psalm 88:1-18, NLT.

I included the whole of Psalm 88 because the Psalms are really wonderful at describing how you’re feeling, especially when life gets really bad, and Psalm 88 is perfect for that. It’s the only psalm where there’s no positive note at the end. All the other psalms have a reassuring, encouraging note at the end, but not Psalm 88. The only thing positive about this psalm is that the psalmist doesn’t stop praying.

So I think I’ll leave it at that. I would appreciate any prayers from my followers if you feel so lead, because I’m in a pretty bad place at the moment, in case you can’t tell.

Thanks in advance! I love you all!

Jun1

A Time for Every Purpose Under Heaven

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1To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven: … 7A time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 8A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. ~ Ecclesiastes 3: 1, 7-8, NKJV.

The purpose of this blog is to educate people about the horrors of child abuse, and in particular sexual child abuse. There are a number of lies out there about what children experience when they’re being molested, and this is a big one.

This is going to be a hard post to write because it’s about a difficult subject. It’s hard for me to talk about and it’s difficult to write about, but I have to make the effort, because I need to bring it out in the open. As it says in the verse I quoted above, there’s a time to keep silence and there’s a time to speak. I hate what was done to me, and it’s time to talk about it.

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been having flashbacks of moaning and grunting and groaning, and I couldn’t figure out what it was ~ if it was even a flashback. But then I remembered people telling me that if it felt good when Harry raped me (Harry is my biological father), all that was happening was that my body was reacting naturally to being sexually stimulated. Then I realized that my body wasn’t feeling pleasure as he was raping me. It was feeling pain. It HURT!! I was a small child and he was an adult male. My body was far too small for his adult-sized body parts. Then as he was forcing himself into me, and I was groaning from the pain, I could see him smiling.

Smiling?? Why was he smiling? Then it dawned on me: he thought I liked it. I liked it?!! I don’t THINK so!!

Knowing that Harry was so selfish and out of touch with my needs made me feel incredibly angry. It made me angry then and it makes me angry now, but I know I have to deal with it and forgive him.

I’ve been trying very hard to NOT deal with this memory since it came up. I’ve procrastinated on working on this post for days on end. It’s too painful, and it makes me too angry at Harry. It also makes me angry at my mother because she did nothing to stop him.

I don’t like feeling angry. It makes me feel out of control. But I know I have to get this dealt with. If I don’t take care of it then it will fester like an old wound that gets infected and fills with pus, and I really don’t want that. So I have to stop dithering about and just do it, regardless of how bad it feels, because, as it says in the Psalms, tears may last for a few hours, but with the new day comes joy.

For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning. ~ Psalm 30: 5, NKJV.

I really want that joy, and I really want to please God, so I’m going to finish working through this memory, and forgive Harry and my mother, so I can publish this post.

I forgive you, Harry! I love you, regardless of what you did to me! I want the best for you!

I forgive you, Mom! I love you no matter what! I want the best for you!

Joy comes in the morning, and I pray that morning is here!

22Through the LORD’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. 23They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. ~ Lamentations 3: 22-23, NKJV.