It’s been nearly a year since I’ve written in this blog. I’ve come so far, but there are still days when the pain resurfaces. It will be nine years this October. Apart from one aunt, I haven’t heard a single word from my parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, aunts or uncles. Silence. Occasionally, my aunt will share some news. I know my dad is failing with Parkinson’s. So sad. I’ve since learned that two nieces have been married - each now with multiple children. One of my nephews was also recently married. You can learn a lot from social media or a simple internet search. I wouldn’t be surprised if my biological family is also checking in on me from time to time. It’s one of the strange things about broken relationships. Sort of like driving by a car accident - you don’t want to look, but something deep inside leads you to stare through the flashing lights at the twisted metal in the median.

For the most part, I’ve grown comfortable with the silence. I used to pray that God would lead someone in my biological family to reach out. I’ve since given up on the idea. I still pray for my biological family - although my prayers are more generic. “God, have Your will whatever that might be.” I don’t know how to pray. I have no idea what God even wants. He definitely doesn’t want what I want…at least on my timeline. Even God is silent…or at least it feels that way.

I have a twenty minute drive to work each day. Sometimes, I listen to music. Occasionally, I listen to Scripture. At times, I drive in silence. But it’s not long before I roll down the window…just for some noise…or I start recording a journal…or I call a friend. From time to time, I’ll pray. Yet it’s awkward talking to God…and it’s uncomfortable sitting in silence because I’m reminded of the painful things. I build my life around my calendar and my to do list. Slowing down often reminds me of my brokenness. My heart isn’t fully healed yet, and I’m frustrated that I’m still chained by the past and trapped beneath the rubble of my childhood.

I stopped writing blogs because I thought I was doing better and with that perceived healing, I ran out of things to say. I moved on to writing new songs and streaming. Blogging helped me get the heavy stuff out of the way so I could write songs with a more positive voice. Streaming has allowed me to laugh and connect with my son (he’s the one who encouraged me to start streaming and he’s been my technical advocate along the way). Yet something inside me has drawn me back to this place of brutal honesty. Complacency is one of my worst enemies. I have an incessant need to move forward and to better myself. I can’t sit still long - physically or emotionally. I want to see growth in myself. If a muscle feels weak or if a joint is out of place, I’m not going to sit on the couch and deal with it. In some strange way, verbalizing the pain gives me a sense of control. I have to talk about it or write it down. At the root of it all is a deep longing to have a voice, a need to feel normal, and a sense of being seen and being heard.