Strong men do cry.

Strong men do cry. Crying is not a sign of weakness, on the contrary. It shows strength and courage. There was a time when I thought I was weak by crying. However when you get to a point of sadness, where there is no choice. 

I think the notion that men should not cry is ridiculous. Men are taught to keep their emotions buried. 

I kept mine buried for over twenty years, they just built up and up. I remember the day I disclosed five years ago, the tears just flowed and flowed. That helped initially, like the pressure release on a valve.

The darkness of my soul
Envelopes my life
From dawn to dusk

The pain of ages

And a sigh of remorse

From dusk to dawn

The hour of the wolf

The time I fear

When I awake in tears

Being more spiritual than religious 

As time moves on, I’m finding that I’m more spiritual than religious. I was brought up a Catholic and spent two years living in community. This has shown me a diferent way of looking at my spirituality, I feel that I now have the freedom.

There are some who will decry me for writing this. But I have one question. What has catholisim done for me? I can’t answer that without hurting. I was hurt at time when I was suffering and coming to terms with the abuse. Since then I have grown and become free. I still identify as Christian but of no denomination. I see it as my personal relationship with Jesus and God. 

For me it’s about the journey rather than the destination. The destination is the same for all, it’s just the journey that makes a difference. 

Struggles of a survivor

Always seeking recognition, lacking confidence

Jumpy and on edge

That’s the struggles of a survivor

Fearing failure, fearing succsess 

Flight or fight, here we go again

The struggle of the survivor

Chink of light, Ray of hope

Positive vibes, hopeful thoughts

The struggle of a thriver. 

My life, the play

Act 1

The start of my life, full of innocence 

Full of joy and laughter 

Growing up, smiling and laughing 

Act 2

He did what he did to me 

He took my innocence and laughter 

Stole my voice, shrouded me in shame 

Act 3

I opened my heart and mind 

I stood up and shook off the shame 

I started to laugh again 

Act 4

Finding my feet and my voice 

Becoming free and alive

Finding friends who just love me for being me.

Act 5

Who knows….

Finding self worth

Over the last few years, I have struggled with accepting praise. This stems from the abuse and the lack of self worth. I have been trying hard to accept praise but I will always sabotage my good works. 

Over the last two and a half months, I’ve learned the hard way. Basically, others constanly saying how well I have done. I’ve had to realise that in some ways my opinion can be wrong. I’ve been told that I woefully undersell myself. 

Over the last week, I’ve had to prove myself as stage manager. I’ve had to show that I can keep cool in a crisis. The result was a near perfect production run. Even after the last performance last night, I didn’t take any of the credit.  It took several members of the group to persued me that I’ve achieved something significant. 

It was only when the director gave his speech, that I realised the enormity of the achievement it was. To coordinate five shows with all sorts things happening. For the first time I truly feel me worth to the group and more importantly to myself. 

Who am I

Over the last five years, it’s a question I ask of myself almost everyday. It seems that my identity was taken from me the day he did it. For years I put on masks. Many different masks, trying to fit in. It was like I was a square peg, trying to fit in to a round hole. 

Over the years I found that I’m a complex mix of fighter, funny man, kind and caring. I seem to have a sixth sense on how others feel. I’m able find the words that help others.

Who am I 

I’m a son

I’m a brother

I’m the friend in need 

And friend indeed

Who am I

I’m Fighter

I’m a survivor

I am Ed, just Ed 

Where this started

Five years ago I went to a weekend seminar with about healing. During the Saturday we did a trust exercise and the main speaker said. There is someone here has a long standing pain they are hiding. He then said there is a man who is holding back the tears.

This opened something up inside of me. I then went on mission on the Sunday. When I returned home the following week, I started to realise there was something wrong. It took me a few months to realise how serious it was.

In these months, I struggled with a niggling feeling that it was very serious. My behaviour changed, I became distant and angry. I spent days fighting these feelings. I never told anyone, even when on a mission I lost my temper with my team leader in front of the team.

So five years since this crap hit me.

Fatigue and healing

This week I’ve been really tired, to the point that I’ve struggled with the day to day things. The flip side is that I’ve slept better, which is good.

I think that the fatigue was a symptom of my healing. My mind seems to be Clearer. But my dreams are quite strange at the moment. I can’t understand them, they are about part of my past. I’m not sure how to interpret them.

Maybe I should just ride with them and not over analyse them.

I’m moving in the right direction. Moving from survivor to thriver.