Don’t Tell Me I Am Beautiful

Don’t tell me I am beautiful, for beauty only ever found me in the back seat of cars driven by boys who never knew my name.

Tell me instead that I am fierce and brave.

Tell me I am stronger than the house I once lived, where my skinny arms tried to stop the walls collapsing around me, and couldn’t.

Tell me my bones are made of steel rods and my body a leather wine skin; that I am toughened from the years yet still soft beneath your touch.

Tell me my teeth are sharp and jagged, and behind my eyes the spirit of my ancestors blaze the fury of their passion into my wildfire soul.

Tell me my heart is a grenade; that I am fragile and dangerous, a contradiction held safe inside the grasp of your fearless hands.

Tell me, as I come adrift in a world where I remain a girl with no name, that you see me.

Tell me I am more than beautiful.

Tell me I am more than I believe myself to be.

~ ©️ Kathy Parker ~

When What Comes to Break Us, Actually Saves Us

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You were left so shattered by him; the way he tore in like a hurricane and ripped everything from you – your heart, your worth, your confidence, your hope.

You wondered how you would piece yourself together again when only broken remains lay your feet. Dazed, you picked them up, examined them, tried to place them side by side and make them fit. But they no longer did. Who you used to be was nowhere to be found in the wreckage he left behind; the only thing left was the grief over everything you had lost, everything he had taken from you, everything you once were and would never be again.

Through tears and regrets your weak hands fumbled in the mess that surrounded you; here and there you would pick up what few pieces you could find and hold them close to your chest until you eventually had enough to rebuild something of the life you once had.

You placed the pieces before you and stared at the chaos, defeated.

But soon, you began to notice the way the haphazard curves of the lines no longer looked amiss, but instead, wild and untamed. The way the colours and patterns came together not in a mess of confusion, but in a mosaic of abstract beauty. The way the cracks and flaws seemed less like weakness, and more like art; profound and perfect in their own right.

Filled with hope, you continued to dig through the remains, only using the best pieces to rebuild with; the pieces that were strong and resilient and beautiful and brave. Pieces you had once loved, but that had been lost and discarded by his careless hands.

Most importantly, pieces that carried no remnant of him.

You built until you were whole again; stronger than you had ever been, put back together with courage and resilience and worth and strength and the wisdom of one who has survived the storm.

From the brokenness came something new.

This is what we learn from those who break us.

That after the destruction, there is always the transformation.

And one day, my love, you will come to understand the beauty of a hurricane.

That sometimes what comes to break us, is actually what saves us.

~ © Kathy Parker ~

The Unravelled Heart, a profoundly true reflection on trauma, abuse, love, loss and healing, now available worldwide on Amazon http://amzn.to/2BIvFhp

Merry Christmas ❤️

Some years Christmas is little more than proof that we made it through another year. Proof we made it through our losses, our pain, our grief, our disappointments. It becomes a day to signify the year is nearly over, finally. That ahead of us lies a fresh start, a new year, a new hope. As those around us share joy and cheer, often this is all we have to cling to – the hope that next year might be somehow better, somehow easier.

But the thing is, we still have hope.

Even when our faith is small. Even when our light is dim. Even when our hands and knees bleed from the many miles we have crawled when we could no longer walk. Even when our hearts have become deserts of dried-up tears that leave our spirits parched and longing.

Even then, we still find hope.

Such is the power of the human spirit.

Such is the power of you.

Hold tight to hope and let it carry you to your tomorrow. Hope is life, hope is breath. Hope is the very thing that keeps your heart beating inside your chest, no matter how broken it may feel this Christmas.

Thank you for those who have given me hope this year, who have carried me and held me though the darker times, who have shared joy and laughter with me in the better times.

Thank you to everyone who has been with me on my journey this year and who has allowed me to be part of theirs. I’m so thankful.

Merry Christmas and much love to those who celebrate, and to those who struggle. My heart is with you all ❤️

Much love,

Kathy x

Upon These Tangled Paths

On the clifftop the wildflowers bloom;

they are honey warmed by the sun and

I am dizzy with the fragrance of spring

which carries over me in this lone place.

Beneath me, the ocean smashes upon

rocks, and sea spray refreshes my face

like a merciful mist of saltwater kisses.

I follow paths unbound by loose gravel,

scratching between stones for a page

of contents that might help me acquire

some order within this disarranged life,

but the paths are unkempt and tangled;

tangled like memories, mistakes, lovers,

like words woven inside unfaded scars,

like sentences made of black and white,

once rigid but now collapsed into greys.

My feet continue, and I discover myself

no longer afraid of the unknown ahead.

“Stay out of the wilderness,” I was told,

but experience teaches what theology

never can, and the bravest truth of our

hearts is found in these tangled paths,

where we lose our faith

and instead find

grace.

Image courtesy Sergey Zolkin via unsplash.com