Author: e.carol

His Leading Lady

His Leading Lady

It takes a lot of practice ~ To choke on fresh air,

Fall up the stairs, and trip over nothing.

I am highly qualified in all those skills!

Hi, Thank you for visiting my blog. It’s time you heard a little about this writer. The Reverend’s wife.

I loved being the Reverend’s wife. I love being a mum and a grandmother. I like hugs and hearts. Spotty, striped and flowery textiles and accessories. Some of the simplest things bring fulfilment, such as seeing people smile, while feeling loved and valued. Watching those I love eat my fresh roasted potatoes and home baked cake. Observing people open gifts I have bought them. These small gestures give me a lot of pleasure. 

I am happy mostly, even in the dark times, I can smile and reflect on many wonderful blessings and memories.

I have learned that my mind can be what I choose it to be.

Our minds are like a photograph album that can never be lost or taken from us. Filled with many pages of pictures that encourage us and add value and significance, making us want to create even more good memories.

Our minds can very easily get stuck on the negatives, where there is no colour or pleasure. Or the blurred and distorted outcome of what should have been a picture of clear and defining beauty. With a mind continually focussed on negative memories, we are forced to backdown from life, hide in a cave, shielded from the sadness.

If our mind is continually drawn into the dark places we can get lost with the mortals called confusion and hopelessness. Try to choose thoughts that let the light in, which will force the clouds to break up overhead, so then the sun will shine on your days.

When confusion and hopelessness come after you, which they will. Find someone who is facing the right way and will link arms with you to shake the pests off.

I know what it is to be let down, depressed and dissapointed, to be sad, angry, hurt, undervalued and overlooked. I also have experienced pain, sickness and at times had very little money. These experiences are unavoidable for most of us. There is always a light to switch on, and a different page we can turn to in the album of the memories in our mind.

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As a child, my elder sister didn’t share the fear of strangers that I did. We were walking home from school together one day when an elderly gentleman shouted across the street to us for directions. My sister walked over the road to talk to him. I can remember being quite worried that she did that. I stayed on the opposite side of the road, thinking if he kidnaps my sister, I’ll run for my life! Another time we were walking happily home, I had gone a few yards ahead. Suddenly this very tall, stern looking, well dressed man with a big black brief case ran with speed towards me. I screamed out loud and legged it for all I was worth back to my sister, who was completely horrified with embarrassment because the man was running to catch his bus and not running after me with intent to cut me up into little pieces and boil me!

I was part of a group of loyal friends. We made the most of our young single years. Often spending holidays together, and enjoy weekends away too. We would chat and giggle until the early hours as girls do. Day dreaming about our future and all our hopes and expectations.

My parents worked hard and modelled a strong work ethic. They made sacrifices to enable them to provide for their four daughters well above their means. They modelled the importance of the Christian faith and the values and benefits of being devoted to biblical beliefs and principles. To trust God no matter what. They believed it was foundational to faith to belong to a local congregation and be involved in the church community.

All of which led me to becoming a strong Christian as a teenage girl.

A Christian husband was my benchmark, I would settle for no other life partner. I longed to fall in love with Mr Right, and I was ready. I never imagined I had the qualities required to be a suitable wife for a Reverend, with my keen interest in fashion and make up. Along with a nonreligious flair for creativity and shallow frivolity that I expressed through my own unique humour and style.

My knowledge of many lovely wives of Reverends who I grew up knowing well, confirmed my opinion that they possessed an excellence that was exclusive only to them. With an air of serenity and poise that I wasn’t specially gifted with.

I am a Christian, I’m devoted to God. I enjoy fun. I can be dippy at times, and also a little clumsy too. I will be the first to laugh at myself, it has to be said I give others and myself many opportunities to join me in the chuckles. Even with a mouthful of tea I had just gulped, which then projectiles out of my nose in an effort to hold back the giggles and a failed attempt to swallow.

It was refreshing to find that I made many life long Reverend’s wife friends who I completely related to in style, trivia and humour.

I learned from experience how easy it was to become entangled in infatuations in the pursuit of love as a single young girl. I am very grateful that circumstances got me out of some very silly situations, before I made a decision that may have impacted the rest of my life in an unhelpful way.

During the late 1970’s, early 1980’s I was a naïve twenty something single girl, having been sheltered well, and taught good values.

Then I met the Handsome, Born of Fire, Gift of God for the very first time…

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Never underestimate the possibilities that are within you. When opportunity comes through a door of your life, embrace it and be prepared to be surprised with the outcomes. As a young woman I had so little self belief that I would shake my head and retreat in fear of incompetence and failure at the opportunity to venture into the unknown. Because of this I made a promise to God and myself that whatever opportunity or invitation presented itself, I would say YES! I became an ‘I Can Do’ person instead of an ‘I cannot Do’ person. One of the best choices i made…

EE.

 

The Story Was Born ~ The Handsome Gift of Fire

The Story Was Born ~ The Handsome Gift of Fire

One child won’t change the world, but for that one child,

His world changed,  then changed again.

…It was the mid fifties.

A teenage girl became pregnant. This was not an acceptable situation for a single girl and her family, in the country where they lived. The stigma on their reputation would be untenable.

A precious baby boy was born to this poor unmarried mother. There were no celebrations, greeting cards or gifts from family and friends to welcome this baby into the world.  Messages of congratulations to the new parents didn’t spread amongst the neighbourhood where they lived. No other choice was afforded to this young mother, other than to hand her baby boy over to the local authority to wait for adoption.

The grief in her heart must have sobbed violently, though quietly, as she hugged her son for the final time. She gave him his first kiss, her breath was the first scent to fill his nostrils. It was her gaze he first looked into when he opened his brand new eyes for the first time, as she named him Kenneth Theodore.

 Kenneth means ‘Handsome’, ‘Born of fire,’  Theodore means ‘Gift of God’

She gave him very strong names, every time he heard them, he would hear “You are Handsome” “You are a born of fire” “You are a Gift of God.”

He was set up to survive a hostile world because these great names of strength and surety would fill his mind moment by moment. Every day he would hear that he was handsome, that he was born of fire, and was a gift from God. The mother, who painfully bore and birthed him, blessed him by name. Then as a penalty for her moment of unrestrained and extravagant intimacy, relinquished her rights over her baby boy for the sake of honour and repute.

He was taken from his mothers’ arms, the most important person in his life. It was she who was equipped with everything necessary to provide for his wellbeing. The one important nurturer, who he needed for consistency, to form his first and most crucial attachment. The person who should have shaped and secured all his future relationships, was gone, as if vaporised from his life.

Handsome would never remember her, or anything about her. He wouldn’t recall the abandonment or how he felt to be in an unfamiliar environment, with strangers.

Unaware of the severity of his woeful plight he would attempt to make that one vital attachment through communication as an infant child would. Then another child, possibly an older, more persistent baby would cry louder for longer, so he would be overlooked again for possibly the ninth or tenth time that day.

The instinct of the child was seeking for what he was genetically designed to need for his healthy cognitive development. When a child is continually, or overly exposed to stress it causes physiological alterations, that affect the development of the brain. In other words they trigger a malfunction that damages the potential of mental and emotional wellbeing. The calm composure of consistent regular attachment provided through a mothers or a specific others love, along with food, warmth, eye contact and affectionate touch are profoundly significant in a child’s most early days, weeks and months. If these neurological routes have been disturbed in some way, distress will be created in the emotional core of the brain that can then be affiliated to mental health problems as an adult, potentially causing Dissociative and other similar Disorders.

Maternal and paternal instinct does not come naturally to all parents for varying reasons. It is a powerful force in most parents of new borns, the strong natural desire that doesn’t need to be taught. To want to hold their baby close, and gaze into their eyes for a length of time that cannot be measured. To scoop them up in their arms for comfort, to reassure and console them to nestle in closer. Also just for the sheer joy and playful pleasure of watching them look down with trust and security as they’re held high above the head, safe in the arms of the ones who are their first and most pivotal attachment.

Kenneth, the wonderful Gift of God would possibly have cried out with his natural desire for emotional comfort for a few days. To possibly strive for two or three weeks, then would give up in his attempts to capture comfort. The deprived empty void was formed in his mind, where there should have been the psychological features, forming pathological circuits in his brain, that would become habitual sequences required for healthy attachments. All the solace he needed for his moral and emotional strength as nature had intended for his sound security, was lost with his estranged mother.

Doubt, miss trust, isolation and insecurity were established as burial chambers in its place. Infertile to any future growth from seeds of future attachments. The unintentional damage had been done.

It is my very personal subjective opinion, due to my observations of children from troubled life experiences in their early childhood. Females broadly speaking, survive stronger than males. Females talk, they are in the main, more open to embrace help and support and will persist in pushing the boundaries until they get what they need. Males are generally more inclined to independence and apathy. Pride can be a very strong defence to anything that may be interpreted as weakness. Of course there are many surviving males and many despairing females. It has to be recognised the historical trend that inherently men and women were shaped very differently in the long ago past. Little girls would be hugged and comforted when upset, but boys would be scolded for crying. The cries of a cute curly haired little girl would not be ignored. The demand to be gathered up in the arms of her carer outweighed the needs of an infant boy who looked on with a yearning for the same meaningful touch. The culture has changed remarkably in todays attitudes to mental wellbeing. Recognising emotional literacy needs to be taught, modelled and encouraged broadly across both genders. The importance for boys as well as girls to be able to express pain when hurt, then expect and be naturally willing to be cared for and comforted, is pivotal to emotional health.

Contrary to the theories that conditioned our culture in the early to middle 1900’s that hugs, tenderness and affection created weakness, was distinctly the physical language that makes us mentally and emotionally secure, strong and resilient.

Is this the reason why women tend to be emotionally stronger?

Kenneth was not alone. Thousands of babies found themselves subjects of similar or even worse situations. Today they are possibly among our failing parents. They’re our broken relationships, our lawbreakers and victims of addictions. Those who commit violence against others and self harm to their own bodies. Tragically some are convinced the only answer is the extreme act of suicide.

Sadly yesterday’s damage is done, set up to do its worst tomorrow.

There was a remarkable married couple, who were childless. They made inquiries about adoption, their request was to adopt a baby boy. Soon the good news they hoped for came; there was a baby boy, from a background of well standing. His name was Handsome, born of fire and Gift of God, in lesser words, Kenneth Theodore.

At five months old the handsome, born of fire, gift of God, Kenneth, was adopted and placed legally into the care of a loving Christian couple.

This innocent child of only a few months old was reborn and renamed by adoption into his third attempt to begin his life. He was delivered into the care of those who would be his kind, loving and wonderful mother and father for the rest of their lives.

Research proves that the mind has its own memory. Everything that happens to us and everything we do from the moment our hearts beat, is stored in a memory bank of its own. It will all be remembered in our subconscious mind, and carry significance through our entire lives, both the pleasures and the pains. In his subconscious mind Kenneth will not be forgotten, neither will his birth mother along with all the rest prior to his adoption. There is hope of restoring secure mental and emotional health from former damage, It would require the purposeful intention of parents and carers to realign the young mind with many healthy strong and consistent attachments. For an older child such as a teenager they would need to learn healthy coping strategies, that subsequently correct the neurological circuits in the brain required for their stable mental and emotional well being and attachments.

As an adult the ‘Handsome Gift of Fire’ would be very generous with his sincere praise and appreciation for his parents who showered him with encouragement. He boasts of the love they gave and sacrifices they made for him. And rightly so, they were wonderful parents, who loved him unconditionally.

At seventeen, and with his full agreement, Handsome found himself bereft of his mother, again, and in the care of more strangers. Did this arouse and unsettle the deep tangible memories in his subconscious mind and the echoes of a baby’s cry, from the long ago newborn? He did not cry to be held, or need to feel the warmth of comfort from a nurturing attachment this time. He wasn’t a dependent infant now. He could go and get whatever he needed to fill the empty void of loss and loneliness. He couldn’t have recognised that his mental health was scarred and disabled from unknowing neglect. It would be decades later when he would discover where his problems began, through no ones fault especially his own.

As a young adult living in a large city, there were many places he could go to find satisfaction for the anxious yearning within. Easy access to top shelf magazines full with adverts of those all too willing to console with pleasurable sexual brief encounters, to then walk away. Leaving him emptier than ever!

At the age of sexualisation, which varies for each person, it is critical that the first experience is for the right reasons. It is so euphoric, it releases the desire for more, invariably the need will return to where it first sought fulfilment. I have suspicions that there are some undisclosed events around this time frame of his life that made room for his addictive flaw.

Very soon he had found a career he loved in the Fire Service.

The baby born of Fire became a Fire Fighter.

These were some of the happiest years of his life; he would talk of his fireman friends with fondness as though he had found another family and another world he was mutually connected to.

Surreptitiously, the lurking prowler was skulking in the shadows. The Grey opposition of grave destruction, who would eventually peel away his character, repress his humour, while stripping him down till only a carcass was left!

My husband told me the following events. As an experienced Fire Fighter, the bells rang and off the Green Watch went to fight the flames in a two-story house. A person was seen in the upstairs window. Up the ladder he went, without thought for his own safety, along with a colleague. Flames licked up the steel ladder, burning through his gloves causing third degree burns to the palms of his hands.

One after the other they jumped through the bedroom window, hitting the floor. At the same time a ball of fire engulfed the room. It headed for the window that a split second before they had jumped through. They had survived a Flashover. With third degree burns that took the palms of his hands. His helmet had melted into his face. He suffered burns to his ears. The two fire fighters were rushed to hospital. Remarkably the one I was to fall in love with told me he left the hospital within five days. New skin began to appear on the palms of his hands the day after the fire. His healing was miraculous; he needed no skin grafts and has no scars. The new flesh that had grown on his palms was as soft as a newborn babies. After a few weeks of convalescence, he returned to fight fires and save lives. He was presented with an award for his bravery.

He knew he could have died in that fire. He made his peace with God then shortly afterwards left his loved career, to follow a strong spiritual call to Preach the Gospel.

The infant ‘Born of Fire’ was born into Gods family through ‘Fire!’

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Should you recognise yourself or someone close to you as a possible victim of  neglect. Talk to someone you know will support you. Your GP will refer you for counselling, through which the counsellor can assess your mental and emotional well being. You may have no idea that an early life trauma has affected you, but you will possibly find things begin to make sense. Why you react the way you do and other mysteries about some of your personality traits that don’t appear rational will have a foundation of reason.

Talk to me, i am more than willing to help and support you.

EE.

Painting The Picture

Painting The Picture

 A note to self… Life is far too precious to worry about matching socks!

The therapeutic and cathartic process of unlocking the trap door of memories, is a very necessary purging for the purpose of recovery from many harrowing situations. The negative impressions that have left deep imprints on my mind have had squatters’ rights for too long. It’s time for a mindset makeover and a detox in my soul. I need to see and feel the insanity of it all, to re-establish my sanity. I need to see and feel the torment and anguish, to be capable of expressing, not suppressing, the assault and violations committed against our vows. His two identities were never supposed to collide. The one I call…

‘The Reverend’.

He was my husband, he was the wise one who I married. He was lovely and loveable; he was very easy to love. For now, he is lost. The other I call…

The ‘Grey One’.

The other woman has him. Grey is all he is for now. He lives every day on the dark side of  a lifestyle choice; he is a fool, and he would admit that of himself. At the moment my husband is trapped almost totally in the Grey One‘s identity. I miss him desperately. How could the Reverend be the foolhardy Grey One? It was quite simple, because the Grey One didn’t exist. He was a ghost identity, like an imaginary friend.

The name ‘Reverend Grey’ sums up the incomparable uniqueness of the two identities, the Reverend who was wise, the Grey One, a fool.

The Reverend was also, Mr I don’t know, Mr Maybe, Maybe not, Mr I’m not sure, Mr Possibly, Possibly not, Mr I think so, I don’t think so. I could go on. His indifference to what should have been very clear and decisive drove me nuts at times. He survived in an extremely wide grey area. This was the space where allowances were made. 

He would always make adjustment, never judgement.

The Reverend was very aware of the Grey One’s wrongs. His grey area played to his vices. He could not afford to live his private life by the strict narrow boundaries of right and wrong, yes and no.

It is crucial to understand that the Reverend was indeed the real deal who eventually confessed to being two people. It was the Grey One who was the counterfeit identity, the phantom personality that the Reverend concealed, but hopelessly consented to. It is also essential for me to say, without excuse, that it was the Reverend who lied and deceived to keep the Grey One satisfied, while hidden in a cellar, dark and unseen.

I have numerous reasons to praise my husband, the Reverend.                                                                     They are the very many reasons I will always love and forgive him.

The Grey One is everything contradictory. Altogether incompatible with the man I have known for a life time and love with all my heart. Yet the two polarised identities are in one person, distinguished by opposing extremes in values and morals.

The unveiling of the Grey One became more frequent. His dark purposes and threats were even more menacing, foreshadowing tragic and dishonourable evidence to come.

If I had disclosed the Reverend’s secrets to anyone I would have brought devastation to our house – our marriage, our family, our careers. It would be as if I had activated a device that would begin the demolition process on our high-rise home. I couldn’t be, and wasn’t going to be, the person who did this. In faith I handed the responsibility of exposure to the will of a higher authority.

Two years ago someone, anonymously, uncovered the Reverend’s secret scandals. This provoked the necessary outcome and painfully razed our house to the ground.

The Reverend was dismissed from his loved career. His credentials were withdrawn. He came face to face with the Grey One. The duel between them began that day. The Reverend was weak. He lost his authority, then relinquished his rule to the Grey One.

Pornography is an ogre, a personified man-eater. She ignores all boundaries. She is cunningly unseen and silent, and racks up more scores in her favour when ignored. If you are in a similar situation, begin now to rewrite the script for your future. Don’t ignore the inevitable as I did. Give your relationship, family and possibly your career, the strongest chance to survive.

Pornography needs to be forced out from behind the password on an Internet devise and brought into the daylight. I cannot disclose some of the most terrible details of our troubled marriage on this blog. It would be unwise. I hope to release a book one day that completely exposes the nausiating and sinister molestation of pornography. To bring it out from hiding, to face its own shame and disgrace. The symptoms did not just affect the Reverend. They plagued and tormented our love and union. It disabled us chronically. We were both fighting it in our own way, but were unable to help each other.

Then in an unsuspecting moment one Friday afternoon I discovered chilling and shocking evidence that was again going to painfully and significantly change the direction of our lives. I didn’t jump. I was pushed.

The most soul-debilitating fact about our situation was facing the reality that staying together would only ever exacerbate my husband’s addiction. The Grey One was never going to leave as long as he was enshrouded by the ‘good life’ of the Reverend. With the Reverend gone and the children and me out of his life, the Grey One was left completely exposed. Nowhere to lurk to weave his dark magic. Where will the thrill exist now that grey is a normal day? Will the night get even darker? 

The affair between the Grey One and her is all about pornography and a shared addiction to the unrealistic fantasies it creates. Everyone knows addictions don’t get told “That’s enough, no more”. Rather the craving is in charge from the moment it is has moved in, uninvited, and taken up residence in the mind. It won’t leave without a fight. In its greed to continue enticing the addict back into its control, a more depraved fantasy must be created.

The beginning of this story is where it all began. When first his heart began to beat…

Next weeks Blog:  The Story Was Born ~ The Leading Man

One child won’t change the world, but for that one child, the world changed, then changed again.

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I would value all comments, contributions and feed back, especially from anyone with a similar history, or who is living with painful secrets such as mine.

EC.

Breaking Point

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You only have one life, make it matter! Don’t spend it waiting for the perfect  moment, instead, embrace the moment that is now,  And make it as perfect as you can.

Following the discovery of the most hideous and outrageous revelation, my fractured heart broke when I had no alternative but to separate from my darling husband of more than thirty years. He is involved with one of the women he met on the Internet several years ago. She serves the drug to enhance a deviant appetite. Their shared discreet involvements brought them together to eventually engage in casual behaviours with no strings attached.                                                                                                                        

But of course ‘No Strings’ can ever be guaranteed!

I was not equal to my rival, the Internet, or the woman my husband is involved with. It was not a fifty-fifty pursuit for his affections. I fought my hardest to win him back from the clutch of secret pornography and adultery. No human force was strong enough to overpower the pillager who seized my husbands’ soul, in her war against my marriage. One day, long ago he took a fatal step into his secret world, and he was captured. 

The cloak and dagger mystical intrigue that secrets host; will only serve to increase the potency. That will become more and more seductive and destructive. There is no such thing with addiction as ‘The Status Quo’. So take my hand now; I’m reaching out to you. Let me lift you out of the bed of lies that has forced you into silence that dims the light in your innermost chamber where truth sleeps. The cry for help is in your eyes; yet no one can see it.                                        

I will add that my argument is not against alternative sexual practices. I accept that everyone’s desires are varied. My concern is not with the rights and wrongs of the wide-ranging sexual activities.

For too many years my husband stood with his feet astride betrayal and betrothal, managing to keep his marriage and family stable. Until eventually he was unable to keep both feet sure.

He was like a nation in combat against itself; virtue was powerless against the self-indulgent greed of the underhanded strikes against morality. When decency is at war with corruption, one has legal boundaries; the opposition is depraved in its greed to gain supremacy. Win the battles it may for a season, but if honour and truth is brave, they will defeat corruption and win the final war!

Secret porn incites a dark alliance that gets more and more sinister. Then who was once a foundation of a secure moral status with safe boundaries, looses sight of the impending cliff edge that approaches with intensity. Without foresight, blindly find themselves in the intoxicating and exhilarating flow of a free fall that was not planned or prepared for. The law of gravity makes no allowance for mortality, once the leap is taken into its tempting intrigue. Pornography is just as merciless and will remove all possibility of regaining a pure moral footing.

Photos and messages from her would be sent to his phone while he was lying next to me in bed. These are the charms he was powerless against. I couldn’t feed his addiction like she did, instead I shamed it.

My primary purpose is to make aware the unequivocal evidence of the destructive intent of secret pornography. I cannot keep quiet any longer, and secrecy needs a brutal slap. I have never heard a story like mine made public before, but you’re out there men and women, couples and families with a history similar to mine. Living with the fear of exposure.

Sadly, there are also those who are already set up for a future that reflects our past.

I know this because there are thousands upon thousands of men and women in our country and throughout the world, exploring opportinities for undercover casual and ilicit sex that is potentially addictive. I have seen you while trawling through the Internet looking for my husband.

I look back over the decades of my life and wonder, how did all of this happen in one marriage. The soap opera drama of our life’s story went live on air, but this was not fiction, it was our real life. The consequences that were monumental unfolded year by year, and then month by month, now, day to day. The groomer was groomed, and was too dazzled to run the other way and didn’t have the mind, will or foresight to call out for help.                                                                                                                                            

I am unlocking the trapdoor to our very private and personal cellar, where fear is the most loyal ally of shame, and serves as a padlock only to be opened by breaking silence. Hopefully I will draw the attention of people from every status, and orientation of life, without judgement or discrimination who are trapped in a prison of silence and you have no where to go with your heartache.                                                                                                                       

Beware of the Beast it is devouring. It is never satisfied and will eventually strip you of flesh and breath, if cloistered fantasy is relied on to feed addictions of illicit sexual arousals.

The recklessness of the invisible destroyer escalates to demand it’s ultimate price tag – You!

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I assure you, nothing of what I will be posting over the next few weeks is fictionalised, sensationalised, embellished or exaggerated. This is my experience as an indirect victim of the assault of pornography. You will read the unthinkable degrees I allowed it to trespass on my marriage, my most intimate relationship.

Are you are carrying a secret addiction or obsession, fascination or compulsion, either your own or for your spouse, partner, parent or your child or someone else? Are you internalising the worry and anxiety that it causes you because the consequences of breaking silence will cause chaos and possibly the breakdown of relationships and loss.   As a consequence of my husbands addictions I have suffered the loss of my home and career, finances and lifestyle.

Talk it out on here. You may just want to get stuff off your chest to pour out your pain and worry. You may want help, advise or support, i’m here for you. Maybe you are surviving an exposure of adultery. I know how that feels from my many years experience. Post your deepest and most difficult situations. You don’t need to reveal your name or any other personal details. If I had been offered the opportunity to talk completly anonymously over the past years of my husbands secret addictions, it would have been a lifeline for me. I want to offer you a shelter where you will find someone who can empathise as you share your pent up pains. 

I believe pornography and sexual addiction is related to a mental disorder, as with all other addictions. Until this is recognised and addressed and shame is removed from those who are hooked, most of us will choose to remain sealed. In the meantime let us help one another to manage our painful silence.

 You are not alone, you are not the only one. 

E.C. x