Tag Archives: Grief

Toxic Parents – How to Save Yourself

Sorting through all the old books I’ve read, I stumbled upon this one.

This book is, by far, the most helpful book I’ve ever read. It’s powerful in its approach with revolutionary insight. Insight that truly changed my perspective on my childhood pain in a lot of ways. I’m almost convinced the author was hiding in my closet when she wrote this book. Continue reading Toxic Parents – How to Save Yourself

Your Life Is Your Own, What Will You Do With It?

I love to read so when I travel I hit all the local used books stores and load up on books. I’ve had this books for quite some time but now wish I’d bought it when it was first released and paid full price because it explains my mindset and what’s in my heart, better than I ever could find the words to do. Continue reading Your Life Is Your Own, What Will You Do With It?

My Life is Utterly Meaningless

MeaninglessSitting here in the recliner at my father’s house, I can’t think of one short-term reason to continue living.

Why am I here on earth? Why was I put here? Why was I even born? Do I have some kind of obscure intrinsic value to add to this world? Do I even serve a simple purpose? I’ve been asking myself these questions since I was ten years old.

I hear people talking about God and praising him but at this point, I am not even sure I believe He exist. He seems more like a charade, a lie everyone around the world is telling, like that of Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy. More propaganda of the world using a different name.

If He does exist than my reality is his fault. He bore me into this eternal hell giving me plenty of reasons to hate him. He’s force fed me more reason than I can digest at this point, more reasons than I can regurgitate from day-to-day.

I can’t imagine anyone putting a person on earth to live the life that I’ve been forced to live. An existence of vile, demonic, immoral servitude. It’s nothing less than heartless and impersonal. It’s a pointless process that no one should have to live through. It’s as pointless as the very way I was conceived and brought into this world because there was no love between my parents. My mother is not capable of love and her mistreatment of me, the neglect, emotional, verbal, physical and sexual abuse that I’ve suffered over the last 15 years is her way of reminding me of that every single day.

Why if God is real would he create such an evil being? Why would He put me here, choose Faye as my mother, and force me to live, in this family, amongst all these hateful, degenerate people? Why?

My life is nothing more than a ruthless, reprehensible train wreck, where I serve no purpose. It’s doubtful that I will have any kind of lasting effect in this world because in the grand scheme of things my life is utterly meaningless.

If God doesn’t exist, if He doesn’t create us then no one puts us here for a purpose, no one gives us life, which means I am not here for a reason and I have no intrinsic value to speak of, my worth is nothing more than subjective.

I’m judged by both sides of the family, and many others, including the police, simply because I am my mother’s child and because my brothers, Paul, Mark, Todd and Steve prove to be thieves, alcoholic and drug addicts always staying in trouble, always in and out of jail. Relatives assume that because they all lack character, I lack character as well so they slander me, talk down to me, belittle me.

I feel I have worth and am worthy of love but if there is no God to have a final say, who say’s I’m right feeling that and who says they’re wrong?

If God doesn’t exist, is there such a thing as right or wrong? Do I even have a soul? Do any of us have a soul? Is the immutable truth dead and buried or will I one day be able to speak it?

Maybe there are no biblical laws, after all, or moral absolutes to live by. How is one to really know?

Written in 1986

© Kerri Bishop Reece | Kerri Chronicles

The Essence of a Little Girls Loneliness and Pain

The Essence of a Little Girls Loneliness and Pain
Wordless, this photograph has sat framed, in my home, my entire life. No matter where I have lived, I’ve kept it close, hearing its horrifying screams daily, silently grasping for me, bellowing out all the words that you see  from the well of my deepest despair. Words boldly wrestling within my soul, clawing out those tiny eyes, like rusted barbed wire, embracing me, bludgeoning me, shredding all that was left of my vanquished tortured being. Continue reading The Essence of a Little Girls Loneliness and Pain

Dancing with Death

Dancing with Death

Warning: The following story may be disturbing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

Dancing with Death

My heart has only known darkness,
A shadow, looming over my soul.
It’s a dungeon, ever widening,
From an evil I cannot control.

The pain is suffocating,
Hovering – swaying in a dance of death,
Smothering my existence,
As I fight for my last breath.

Searching for a haven,
A harbor for my pain.
My tear drops I am choking on,
My emotions bound in chains.

I struggle to move forward,
Falling further and further behind.
Haunted by the demons,
Plagued by memories etched in my mind. 

Stumbling in the darkness,
A facade of armor,
Confident and strong.
Is this my destination? Is this where I belong?

Fighting through the chaos,
Weeping wounds along the way.
Choking on the bloodshed,
Scars left by those who have betrayed.

Praying for an angel,
Begging at deaths door,
Confusion is my mindset,
I suffer even more.

My home – a torture chamber,
The walls a distorted shape.
Hell is my only playground,
Living this childhood of rape.

Dancing with Death

If you are reading this and were molested as a child, raped, sexually assaulted, etc. I’m sure that you can relate.

When I was growing up, I felt very alone in the world. I knew that what was being done to me was wrong but I felt that it was my own fault because no one that I knew talked about this kind of stuff. My mother, the one person who was supposed to protect me, supposed to love me and keep me safe, she blamed me – she hated me – she made me feel worthless, ashamed and improper so I was too afraid to tell anyone else for fear of losing their love and respect. If my own mother felt that way about me, wouldn’t others feel that way about me too? If they knew, wouldn’t they dislike me and shame me too? I didn’t want anyone to dislike me or to shame me anymore than I already disliked and shamed myself.

I prayed daily, I prayed for the abuse to stop but it went on year after year and as the time passed, my prayers turned to questions. I questioned God – asking him why I was put on this earth. I wanted to know if this was my purpose in the world. Did he bring me into this world to be tormented or were there other reasons. I questioned Him a lot. I wanted to know what I had done to deserve the life that I had. I blamed him. I didn’t need a reason to hate God because I felt that I’d had plenty of them.

I felt that most people don’t understand how that abuse dominated my life. I feared it. It was constantly on my mind. I worried every second of every day. I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. I barely got by in school, I smoked cigarettes and abused drugs and alcohol to the point that I overdosed as a teenager, landing myself in the hospital with doctors forcing lethal doses of drugs out of my system.

When it was over and I was free, it continued by haunting me. I’m still haunted by the memories of each time I was touched. I’m still haunted by my mother’s words, in my head, repeatedly telling me that it’s my fault, my shame and I am even sometimes haunted by the seething anger and the need for revenge that runs through my veins. As a young adult, the reality of my world was harsh. Physically I was no longer being abused but emotionally I was often raped over and over again.

Today, I still pray about it.

Interested in reading more of Kerri Chronicles? Check these out:

No Turning Back
My Life is Utterly Meaningless
Satan Feeds

© Kerri Bishop Reece | Kerri Chronicles