Name of the Game

I’ve seen so many work hard for what they have. Underappreciated but undeterred, they worked till their fingers literally bled. With little fanfare or even a thank you, you do what you have to do when it comes to your survival. For the abused, doing anything for praise or respect is a wasted effort; especially if you’re waiting for it from those that didn’t even respect themselves.

Abuse is a vicious cycle, handed down generation after generation. Often bleeding from a misdirected doctrine, where servitude is masked as purity. How can I now live my awakened life, knowing so many are still afraid of their own strength. Giving whole portions of themselves away to a fear and belief that they are nothing without pain.
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Breaking the curse that’s placed upon us is no easy task. Making it simple for us to fall back into old patterns. Especially the abusive ones we learned so well. Often the defensive mechanisms we learned can become abusive themselves . During my “so-called enlightenment”, I often find myself becoming the bully. But at least I catch myself, most of the time. So I’m learning to apologize way better then I used too. Being imperfect, that’s the name of the game. We need to learn to give grace to ourselves, to those that wronged us, as well as, to those we have wronged.