Tag Archive | writing

What to write (poem)

I used to write poems from my heart
Now I don’t know quite how to start
The words used to flow, no, pour out
Now even I have no clue what I’m talking about

The best way to begin is to jump right in
For penning bad poetry surely’s no sin
I’ll not be afraid to choose the wrong phrase
Or that my rhythm here or there strays

I’ll try to say what I want to say
Without extra words stuck in the way
I’m not simple minded but simply choose
Straight forward sentiments with no way to confuse

Next time inspiration comes to me
I’ll start writing immediately
Get those words out of my brain
express my love or joy, sadness or pain

Copyright rootstoblossom 2016

Ever Feel Like Your Native Language is Foreign


Usually I completed take my freely flowing words for granted. I assume the words will come out and make sense and make points without me forcing them. But lately I’ve been forcing them. I’ve been struggling to find the right words, pausing between sentences to find the right path, the right connections.

The words are kind of like those floaters in your eyes, you can’t see them if you look right at them. So as soon as I know what to say, see that entire thought, it floats out of my conscio

Montage of languages. Prototype header for the...

I don’t understand myself (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

us so quickly, leaving me with a feeling like I saw it, I can feel it, but can’t see it. A ghost of thoughts and words once there.

I don’t know how I’m feeling emotionally these days. It’s like I’m only feeling things physically.  Unless dizzy is an emotion, because that’s how I feel. Like my feelings won’t sit still long enough for me to actually feel them, and I’m left with a dizzy confusion. This dizziness blocks my words.

I stumbled my way through dozens of emails for work, through many reports and spreadsheets, but I have no words left of my own. I’m tired and drained from writing and reading, and re-reading my words full of so many errors and typos and usage errors, and even rhyming words in place of what I meant. My internal editor must be on vacation.

Or perhaps I lost my babel fish. Don’t panic, I still have my towel.

What is a Poem? – Poem 25/30


are pictures painted with words,

telling a story

no one has heard

quite that way before.


A Poem

is a pause,

an attempt to express

effect and cause

with an intensity

that conversation can’t.



be it prose or rhyme

depicts our human experience

withstanding the test of time

as the calendar may change

but people – our emotions

remain ever the same.

What Do You Mean? – poem 18/30

For the love of words



The power of words has become exceedingly clear.

They soothe, inform, confuse or cause fear.

The words of our language have multiple meanings

meaning readers or listeners have multiple gleanings.

Some words are obviously carefully chosen,

while others are mostly recklessly verbosen.

Though it is important to craft words with nuance and subtlety,

one can go too far, to avoid undue perplexity .

There is a point where the Word- Smith relies

on a Word- Reader to get what she implies.

Let the author put her thesaurus away.

Let her write the words in her heart and get on with her day!

Content. And Still Growing

I have never had a one-track mind. My mind is a swirling, swooshing, chaotic mix of so many topics at once, at any moment, that it is hard to explain. I see bits of them floating by, and it is so hard sometimes to grasp and hold tight to just one long enough to develop it into a complete thought worth posting. Other days I know exactly what I need to write about. Some stories demand to be written.

Then I think about why I started this blog, just over a year ago now. I started this blog to have a safe place to put all the thoughts that I dare not discuss with most people face to face. A place to pour out my heart and soul and feel a human connection, without seeing the horror, pity, disgust, shock, etc that always accompanies my memoirs. A place for myself – and others – to  seek out support, to draw strength, and examine these thoughts and memoirs with the main purpose of growth.

I am so happy to say that this blog has done exactly that. It has grown. I have grown. I like to think some of my readers have grown right along with me, based  on the comments so lovingly placed here.

This blog has also helped me reduce my internal sense of shame. It has helped me to see that it is OK to tell about my abusive childhood. It has helped me to understand that although disgusting things happened to me – that I am not disgusting. I can’t believe that was the core of my existence. I hated myself, thought I was disgusting, less than human, not worthy of love.  I thought the best I could hope for in life was to be perfect, hide my disgusting past, help others every day – always put others before myself, and maybe then I would have a life worth living and would not bother anyone. Just work harder and someone may tolerate you. Love – someone truly loving me – was not really even a dream of mine, just seemed an impossible fantasy.

Writing down the details of my life, both the painful past, and the confusing present, I was able to see what needed to change. Am I done changing and growing? Nope. Not until the day I die. (Which I no longer wish to accelerate) Every day I get to learn and practice new life skills.

So now I have all this information, so many different topics, from family and parenting, from coping with pain, grief, despair, addiction, cognitive distortions, panic attacks, dysfunctional families, effective communication, PTSD, depression, schizophrenia, nutrition, marriage, love, anger, intimacy, sexual healing, psychiatry, talk therapy, antidepressants, ADD, OCD, dreams, nightmares, sleep disorders, chronic pain, spinal cord injuries, nerve damage, physical therapy, brain studies and research, creativity – and so much more!

This blog has been a place of inspiration for me. But mostly it has been a tool in my recovery process for healing from childhood abuse. I have documented a bit of my journey, and I can always go back and read this and see how far I have come, and how many different lovely people took the time to support me. Me. The real Me, the Me that I thought was too disgusting to share.

So I guess, I’m sitting here, feeling this foreign feeling again, this feeling that I thought was a myth, and wanted to document that too.

I am content. Not joyous, ecstatic, or amazed at this moment. A bit happy, a bit peaceful, a whole bunch thankful, and mostly I am content in my own skin. Content to be a work in progress. Content to carry on, knowing I can hold my head up high. Content with the progress I have made. Content with my future that is within reach, and content with the future that I can not yet see.


Blogging May be Bad for My Filter

Since I started blogging, I have found it is easier to know my own thoughts, and to share my own thoughts, both in writing and in speaking. I am also finding this is not necessarily a good thing at all times.

I am getting so used to speaking my mind, voicing my thoughts, that I have turned off that filter that used to keep everything inside. This sounds good at first, but I need that filter when speaking to: employees I am training, my supervisor, other parents, and anyone else that does not know me as well as hubby and WordPress.

I apologized – again – to my supervisor for overspeaking at a meeting. I brought up some facts, just for the sake of discussion, but it was received as negative towards the company and possibly could reduce team morale by reducing their confidence in the accuracy of what we were discussing. Yes, I meant to keep that vague.

Even a year ago, I still carefully phrased, rephrased, and mentally practiced EVERYTHING before I said it. People always thought I was quiet and thoughtful, not that I was internally obsessed with not interrupting them, not bothering them, and making sure my words were perfect before releasing them. But now, the words flow out as quickly as the thoughts are formed. Great for blogging – not so great in team meetings in a company full of political drama. :-/

I think part of the problem here, is that it feels SO GOOD to speak my mind, to not have secrets, to just be me – that I throw caution to the wind and get it all out.  But I need to be careful with my new power, or it will come back to bite me. I think I need to put the filter back in place, just in a diminished form as it used to be.

But then, I had an interesting thought, (and because I’m blogging, it gets to come out) about why I have this need to be heard in meetings now? Am I trying to make sure they know I have ideas? Do I feel more important when they listen to me? Do I care about the end product so much to take these risks? Are the quiet people sitting on top of ideas they are too afraid to speak about, or am I the only one with ideas? Lots of questions here, and no way to answer them. I still feel like a social foreigner, so I must analyze my behavior and compare it to everyone else’s at every meeting. Why? What is the fear here?

I know there is a fear, but I can’t figure it out. It feels great to speak my mind during the meeting, and I hear my own voice going on and steering discussions, and I feel a bit high – I mean I really enjoy that. But then, as soon as the meeting is over, I feel afraid, unsure of what I just said, and request feedback from my supervisor, and apologize for talking too much. So what if I talk too much. I know lots of people that talk too much. Why do I think that is so bad and unacceptable behavior for myself?

I’m playing therapist here and digging deeper. I used to be scolded harshly for speaking whenever my mom was speaking to a friend, in person, or on the phone. I would sometimes wait hours for permission to speak up. She never beat me, but her anger and shame at me interrupting her was very powerful. (light bulb) I remember one time, around age 5 perhaps, actually messing my pants because it took so long to ask her to go to a bathroom. I just stood there next to her, while she would raise the finger indicating “1 minute-not now” and tried to without that natural urge. I never told her, just hoped no one could smell it, threw away the soiled undies back at home to hide my imperfection and avoid a lecture on how expensive new undies are, or how hard she works to clean our laundry. I know we all do this to our kids, but my own kids feel safe enough to say very loudly “But mom I have to go to potty NOW!” and then I take care of their needs. My mom would continue to ignore, give us angry looks, and scold us later for being rude. Even though I could hear her important grown up discussion was about the Cosby Show episode she saw the night before. I guess I can see how his jokes and amazing sweaters were more important than anything I might need, right? (I’m not as bitter as I sound there. Well, maybe I am. I guess I’m not in a place of total forgiveness to my parents yet. Every time I think I am, these hurt, bitter feelings come up when I reminisce)

My mom must have my bad manners made her look like a bad mom, so she enforced strict rules so we appeared as perfect angels to her friends. (narcissistic?) So, another reason I have always been crippled in any type of discussion, always waiting for my turn, for others to ask me to speak. I don’t naturally know how to join in.

So I think these meetings, when my supervisor asks for our thoughts, I feel freedom to speak, and then feel fear for taking up too much time, and shame if I say anything wrong and embarrass our team. Hmmm. And I think apologizing right away serves two purposes, clears my guilty conscience, and also allows me to own my mistake. This is huge. I have never had the ability to say , wow, I messed up, I will be more careful next time. And now I can.

So is this a good thing or not? Should I put the filter back on for work, or continue to voice my concerns? I don’t think I’m saying anything detrimental, or that will cause anger, just questioning best practices and answering questions asked by management, and I fear I may come across as a “know-it-all” and lose credibility if I’m not quiet sometimes. Need to find the balance there perhaps. They should not ask questions if they don’t want answers. (“The truth – You can’t handle the truth!”) Just tricky now that my team has been downsized from 25 to 5, our meetings are much more interactive now.

Hitting Publish on Private Posts – Do I Dare?

Sometimes hitting the publish button takes a bit of extra strength and energy, as I decide if I really want to subject my private life, thoughts, and my little world to the general public. I mean look at those options, visibility: Public. Yes, anyone can read it if they find it. Publish immediately. Yes, right now. Hitting Publish means ANYONE can read it IMMEDIATELY. And so I hesitate at times.

But publishing on a regular basis, I think has been responsible for so much of my personal growth and healing over the past year or so. I started blogging about fluff. Cute things, things that made me happy, all happy, happy positive. I attached my name and photo to that blog. I never spoke of my abuse, and my troubles. But then I started reading some blogs that were intense, and personal, and I admired their bravery, and I wanted to reach out to them, but felt I could not, not with my real name.

And so Roots To Blossom was created to share ALL of me. Not just the nice and cute and positive. I do share that too, but now I have complete freedom to share any thought at all.

My blog is mainly for me. My brain gets all jumbled up with too many thoughts, and writing has always helped to settle my emotions, bring about a sense of peace and closure to an otherwise chaotic mess. I also periodically re-read old posts to see how I used to feel and compare it to now, for therapeutic reasons, and to get to know myself better. OK, So why post publicly?

It keeps me real. I can’t explain, but it does. I feel I need to be honest, more precise, and write clearly if there is a possibility of someone else reading it. Even 1 reader makes me re-read, edit a bit, and give most posts a point. I don’t promise to get to that point eloquently, but it is usually in there some where. My personal journals with no external readers lack this focus and were not as helpful to me. Fascinating really. The internet has brought people together in such amazing ways. I can’t believe the connection I feel to other bloggers here, like my extended family now.

But sometimes I really struggle to hit publish on my private thoughts and actions. Especially the ones about sex and intimacy with my husband. Part of me thinks this should remain private. But the part of me that hits publish, wants to reach out to anyone else who may stumble across my blog, and has been sexually abused, and offer my little view of the world. And I think my blog would be lacking important information if I skipped over the fact that childhood sexual abuse creates problems in adulthood sexuality.

Sex is a part of my earliest memories. I recall my dad was touching me when I 3, and I assume it started in infancy. He made me watch porn with him. He told me dirty jokes.  I can write this now without vomiting. I have accepted it, grieved for that baby girl in me, and I’m still working on becoming whole. My dad stole a part of me that may never be fully whole again. I have accepted this too. It does not mean I will stop trying, stop growing, but it does add the idea that I’m OK right now. I’m OK even if I don’t become whole.

This idea is so important I think, and what is missing from most self-help books, and most counseling sessions. In my experience, books and counselors actually add to the notion that we are damaged humans, and that we must work hard to fix that. Maybe I added the judgment that I am not OK until I fix that, but I do think it a message supported in psychology more than any other medical field. I’d like everyone who is hurting to know that they are OK right now!

And right now, I have made it through a bit of a sexual identity crisis. Not a gender or homosexual thing, just figuring out my sexual side, like I should have done in my adolescence or as a newlywed but was not ready to do then. Hubby and I have been a bit like teenagers in the bedroom lately, except with maturity and experience to make it even better, re-connecting mind, body and soul. It has been wonderful for us both, as we both feel loved and desired. It has been wonderful for our marriage.

But it was not easy to get here. Not easy at all.

So I keep debating, do I write about the sexual side of marriage, and actually hit publish? Yes, I think I need to. I mean what’s the big deal, no one out there can see me blush.