Seana Speaks

Screwtape’s Influence

With just enough truth, any line of thought can begin to confuse, until, eventually, I become aware that there’s a war in my mind and begin to participate. Except, what now is truth and what is born of revelation, and what has been planted and growing without my permission? Which line of thought is it, then, that I am arguing?

Life Outside The Box (let there be cake!)

It’s relatively easy to be a Christian and to walk roads soundly investigated, approved and maintained by the traditional church. It isn’t difficult to live life uncompromised on Sunday morning or at a gathering of like minded friends and family. It isn’t hard to stand your ground when no one is challenging you, or tempting you.

Just confess…and ask for help.

It’s true, I haven’t been doing a very good job at this Christian thing lately. I haven’t really done anything wrong, not those things that make devout people shudder and swoon anyway, I just haven’t really done anything. Between action and apathy, I’d say apathy is the greater danger.

Say something!

  Say something. Say anything. Shout loud and proud and full of wisdom, or whisper weeping remorse.  Just say something, out loud. The silence is what kills you.  Say something. Say anything. Release the noise endless in your head. Give pause to the maybe and the what if and speak your way to peace within. […]

better than alone

Now that I am healing, changing, growing, is it normal to demand a certain level of authenticity in my relationships; to believe that if you say you are my friend, you behave as though it is true? Am I being too demanding or am I breaking old and bad habits? Is the guilt I feel when I assert my rights or my boundaries actually just the last cries of an old identity who has no place anymore?

the beauty of sadness

I am sad today. Today I think somber thoughts and feel tangibly the veil of sorrow settle over me. It’s odd, though, the way this particular sadness feels. It’s a gentle weight, almost a comfort. It’s feels familiar, like a hug from a dear friend when you’ve been fighting to maintain your smile and you suddenly know, in the comfort of that hug, that you’re safe for that moment just to be sad.


I loved you then
in a way I tried to love you now.
Funny how you can’t love what doesn’t exist.
Who…where… are you?

a thousand to spare you the one

You sit, a posture of defense, and speak, an accent of entitlement. I know what lies beneath. What crippled heart can do to lay barren a field of dreams. Oh that it had not been you. I would endure a hundred nights to spare you the one. I laid the promise that was me into the blossoming that was you. He would see us both destroyed.

Drugs? Well, that was easy.

Asking for drugs makes me uncomfortable, like I’m opening myself up to criticism and judgment, like the doctor is going to look at me and know that I like to get high and that’s why I’m asking. At least, that’s what I think they’re going to assume about me. Asking for pain killers, for me, is like openly asking for cocaine. It just feels wrong. It feels like it should be frowned upon.

addiction felt organic

Addiction felt organic. Like I went back in time, to when people worried about the basic needs: food, shelter and warmth. Addiction feels like that, like modern society’s only solution to returning to that level of simplicity, except the basic needs change – to money and drugs.