I Write To Give Myself A Voice

The night before last when I went to bed, I had started this post but when David messaged me, I felt the desire to post my last blog.  Still I wanted to post this one as well.

A blogger that I read posed a question to her readers:  What inspires you to write?  I commented that there wasn't one thing, it just seems my life is chaotic and there is always something to say.  My life is rarely peaceful which made me question if I attract all the craziness into my life?  Maybe it's comfortable to me since I've always had massive instability in my life.

Starting with always being on my toes with my ex step mother Ruth who used any excuse in the book to just ridicule, slap or spank us.  Once my younger sister received a spanking for breaking an elastic band, yes an elastic band.  One Easter we all received the same coloring book and one of my sisters drew a hat on a character, my sister had to copy it in all three books.  We were not allowed to color outside the lines.  That is crazy, I encourage my children to be individuals and definitely color outside the lines, who cares.

I had to deal with that crazy, more like psychotic woman for 10 years of my life.  It was like walking on egg shells and praying you wouldn't crack them.  She seriously had mental issues, you would have to, to treat children the way she did, I honestly thought she gained pleasure from it (maybe she did), now I think she was coming from a place of lack, still that's no excuse.

When I was younger I could not fathom why this woman (my ex step mother), could possibly hate us so much that she felt it was okay to abuse us.  Her excuse later in life was that my father ran around on her.  Ummm, and this was our fault, why?   Then as I got older I realized there was no good excuse and finally I believe that she came from a place of lack.  She is a very unhappy woman and it showed throughout my time of knowing her.

I gave up on hating her, that was a waste.  Instead I am stronger than that... she does not matter, nor does she define who I am in my life. I  no longer care what she said and don't waste too much time thinking of her, she is really not worth my time.  I sometimes ponder what could possibly make her behave the way she did?  I have no answers though because I cannot think the way she did and that is actually good.

So, I think that because I was constantly on edge, I kept that mentality throughout my life, never truly trusting that people didn't have ulterior motives and feeling as if I was unlovable.  Hence why I tolerated men treating me less than I deserved.  My desire to write came from this, it gives me a voice and a place that I can say whatever I want to, which  helps me to work through these issues.

I guess I answered that question then, I write to give myself a voice!

"Everything you want, also wants you" ~ Jack Canfield