Tuesday, October 14, 2025

Coloring

Coloring


To begin this story and end it would be so simple. This page could remain blank—empty and void of words. This story is about just that. I have no memory from age five and younger, and there are gaps that stretch until my teenage years. Even now, in my late adult life, I am drawn to those blank pages, wondering what once filled them.


These missing years are called the formative years of life. What happens during these years defines your later childhood life and determines how you will react and interact with humanity. As of late, words are bringing healing to my life. As many of you know, for more than four years now, therapy has been a big part of my life. I am discovering that building relationships and cracking the door on new emotional experiences is helping to color in these blank pages in my life. Still no memory, but it’s encouraging me to do more with my immediate family, my grandchildren, and those in my inner circle. I’m not venturing out any further than that. 


New relationships are a stretch for me; crowded rooms of people are complex, and places in general can be taxing to my mental well-being. I have grown over the past years to smile, make eye contact, and even offer a handshake and a hug now and then. 


Why now, at my age? Well-meaning people have told me to deal with it and blank it out. The advice I receive most often is to just give it to Jesus. The blank pages have been there for so many years, and I was okay with that until I realized that this was much bigger than me. These pages are much like the tapestry I wrote about, parallel somehow. I think for the most part, the tapestry is about putting pieces in the right place and adding to the project of life until it’s complete, finished or not. This story is defined by the lines drawn on blank pages and the colors that are placed in the lines. They give a clear picture of the time and the event, be it a new memory or one that is just outlined in my mind. 


As the unlocked memories become visible, the lines are slowly growing into a full-blown remembrance. Some are endearing, and some are haunting and difficult to deal with. They don’t come at one time; it’s extremely slow. To give you an idea of how slow, this story started more than two years ago. It’s been sitting on my homepage, open with the first paragraph somewhat outlined. I just picked it back up today. 


After I finish a story like the last one, Behind The Eyes, I enjoy a moment and sometimes weeks of freedom from the pain, the words, the energy, the mental toll, and the expression of my humanity. It’s peaceful here. Then I look, search, feel, and see the eyes of the hurting and the smiles of those in pain, and I must write. I must start to draw the lines of memories. Colors are in my hands, wanting to become life inside my mind. I must let it happen. Every story has a purpose, and sometimes I’m never sure who needs to read it. It’s mostly just for me.


As of late, I have been awakened to deep memories in my soul. I’m not even sure if they are real or not. Some are of tender hugs given by my mom as she said goodbye to my brother and me for the last time. When we were removed from our home, she dropped us off, kissed us on our foreheads, and said, “I love you.” Then she disappeared. These lines are now being colored in with beautiful colors of love. I know you are wondering how my mother could do this. You didn’t experience the environment of our home, the torture done to her, and even worse, the torture done to us. I’m not talking about abuse; I am talking about torture. I hope to color these pages in soon. I have outlines, and I am starting to see the real life we lived in the darkest of times and the battles we faced. These lines are beginning to connect, and to be honest, I’m not sure if I want to see these memories. 


For the sake of those who are coming behind me, I must color these lines in, beautiful or dark; they must be forever written. The beautiful seems the easiest to color in. The lines that outline the dark are too bold, and the colors are even darker. 


For the sake of triggering those who may not need to know what’s in the bold lines, don’t worry, I will handle this with care, and you will understand what I’m saying. It’s healing that brings colors to these lines. We need to color in the good memories and the bad ones to bring closure. 


I learned something recently when we took our grandchildren out to eat. The kids’ menu came with coloring pages, and as they began to fill in the outlines, we joined them. To be honest, I was not interested in this activity, but they seemed to be excited about completing this picture. I saw the outline and already knew the outcome, but they wanted to color, so we did. As we colored together, I realized something: an outline alone is just that—an empty framework, waiting to be filled. It’s the color that gives it life, meaning, and joy. Without it, the picture, and perhaps the memory, feels incomplete. 


No matter the energy, no matter the lines, or the boldness of the lines, we need to color in the picture. It’s what brings the truth into existence. This is living water to our souls. Let the thirsty come. Let those who need to color come. Let those who want to color come; the blessing is in the coloring itself. Every stroke brings life to the bold lines and brings peace and healing to us who need to complete a picture—a memory that needs to escape the mind, cherished or dark. The awesome wonder of our mind was never meant to remain in black and white lines. So, color! It’s okay to color. You have time!  

www.sandwestedit.com 

Tuesday, October 7, 2025

Behind The Eyes

 

Behind The Eyes


Some ideas are expressed more clearly in written form than they are orally. But some words are better left unsaid and unwritten. 


There are times when thoughts should be left deep in the silence of our minds rather than spoken out loud. We’ve all experienced moments when, as soon as the words left our mouths, we wished we could take them back. 


Then there are times when the ideas in our minds remain unspoken, and they could have saved a life, made a difference, repaired a relationship, or mended a heart. This is the tragedy of silence. When should we speak in a crowded world of words? When should we surrender to the spoken word? 


Sometimes I feel like I am the only person on earth who has a consistent conversation with my subconscious and who battles with unspoken words. I wake up at three a.m. and listen to the words deep in my soul, having a complete conversation back and forth. I know you may think that I’m crazy, and to some degree, I will not argue that point. 


I have surrendered to knowing my true self, and if that means having an internal dialogue that is not intended for anyone but me, then so be it. All of my stories are written in the silence of my mind before any typing begins. Even as I write now, I am deciding what to write down and what to leave out. It’s an active conversation going on between me and my hands. 


The words that are deep in my mind may never make it to the pages and to the ears that may or may not need to hear or read those words. It’s the life I live, and I am happy in it. 


This story may sound like it’s about my abusers, but it's not. The truth is simple: It’s not you, it’s me. These are my words alone, not yours. I don’t replay your glances, your tone, your abuse, your cruelty, or even your words. If you were alive, I’m not sure if I would share the thoughts that reside so deeply within my soul. 


The darkness, pain, suffering, and unrelenting battle within my soul are something I long to escape. No, you will never hear the words. Even now, long after you are gone, the effects of your words, your torture, and your evil presence remain visible in me. I will never repeat the words you spoke to me; I will never speak of the pain you have caused me.


I will write them as they are life to me; they break the strongholds that have bound me for many years. These words, while simple in nature, are powerful, never said but written. These words are life! 


The existential words that I hear may only be for me. The conversations give purpose, reason, and direction. Even now, the struggle to write the exact words is a battle. As you have already seen in this story alone, some words made it to the page that may not have ever made it out of the darkness of my mind. They were shouting to get out, so I let them out. It’s my choice in the end. There are more, and maybe one day I will be able to express them. 


This story was born from the deep, unspoken conversations in my mind. When those thoughts are finally spoken in confidence or typed out, they become a part of my healing journey. At my age, I continually ask myself what needs to be healed and why I even need to type these stories out. Yet I know that each word and each back-and-forth conversation in my mind brings another day of living, another day of peace, and another day of loving. There was a time when I didn’t understand how to love myself or accept love from others. This is an ongoing struggle for me. Some will get this and some will not, and that’s okay. Each sentence adds minutes to my life; every story adds months to my life; and every book brings years to me. 


My writing is not about me and my journey. I want others to see these conversations and know it’s okay to have your own contemplations in your mind. You will make it. Don’t quit. 


I’ve left this story alone for weeks now, buried deep in my soul, not sure of the direction or even the message that was evolving. Along the way, I’ve lost so many friends to these silent battles when they became consumed by the lies they told themselves, so I want to be cautious as I bring this to a close. 


The unwritten and unspoken conversations behind closed eyelids have to happen; it’s okay. Give yourself grace to speak freely and the strength to voice the unspoken and feel the unwanted. It’s difficult, but it’s a beautiful way to reconnect with your inner self and nurture your mental and emotional well-being. This grace you give yourself leads to healing and enriches your life in so many ways. These words, spoken or unspoken, will bring you peace and add years to your life. I would be remiss if I didn’t advise you: seek professional help if you need it. It’s okay. 


You all know I am extremely transparent about my therapy. Not that long ago, the voices became so loud and destructive that I didn’t think I would make it. I was so close that looking back now it still makes me tremble and shakes me to my core. That’s why I’m being vulnerable right now so that you might take a different course. Don’t quit! This world needs you, and your purpose is real. You can make a difference with your words, spoken or unspoken. A smile, a hug, a glance, or a comment can change the course of someone’s life. 


You never know what the conversation is or will be until you speak from behind your eyes. Spoken or not spoken. It’s silence that brings the end. 


www.sandwestedit.com 

Coloring

Coloring To begin this story and end it would be so simple. This page could remain blank—empty and void of words. This story is about just t...