Fraility of the Human Spirit

The House that Taught  me Silence 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

The House That Taught Me Silence


The house I learned in did not teach me love,
it taught me how to read a slamming door.
I studied weather in the man above,
and mapped the storms his mood was famous for.
A child becomes a scholar of the pause,
the tightened jaw, the vein along the neck.
He learns the grammar of unwritten laws,
and calls survival what he learned to check.
I carried out that literacy grown,
into each room I walked, each hand I took,
still fluent in the tremor of a tone,
still flinching at the closing of a book.
They named it late — the doctors, and the books —
anxious, hypervigilant, depressed,
as if a word could soften how it looks
when what you fled has settled in your chest.
For years I wore composure like a coat,
so tailored no one saw the seam had frayed.
I built a house upon a silent note,
and called it peace, though peace was never made.
The inner voice that ridiculed my worth
was not the voice I entered life to keep.
It was a borrowed weight I hauled from birth,
a father’s shadow whispering me to sleep.
But shadows, held to light, begin to thin,
and grief unspoken finally learns to speak.
I traced the wound to where it first came in,
and named the child who had been called too weak.
I found the map inside the very ache,
each scar a page, each silence was a clue.
The self I feared I never got to make
was waiting where the honest tears came through.
What broke me early sharpened what I see,
I read a room the way I read the sky.
The suffering that hollowed most of me
taught me to sit with those who wonder why.
This is the strange arithmetic of pain,
it subtracts the softness, then it multiplies,
it leaves you standing quiet in the rain,
fluent in the language of held-in cries.
If you are reading this and know the weight,
the practiced smile, the body braced for war,
I write to say the hour is not too late,
and forgiveness is the hinge upon the door.
Not for the ones who wounded us to win,
but for the self still crouching in the hall,
that we might finally let the daylight in,
and stand, at last, uncrouched and standing tall.

—

DCG

Dealing with narcissists is linked to these mental patterns. Most people assume the damage ends when the relationship does. It does not. Here is what years of narcissistic abuse looks like on the inside.
Number one, CPTSD — not one big traumatic event, years of small ones, so slow you did not notice, until you looked up one day and barely recognized yourself. Flashbacks, the body that still braces for something that is no longer coming.
Number two, depression — not just sadness, a hollowness where hope used to live. Prolonged abuse does not just hurt you, it empties you.
Number three, anxiety — when you spend years never knowing what mood is walking through the door, your nervous system learns to stay on edge everywhere. Long after they are gone, the anxiety remains. Your body has not yet received the message that it is safe.
Number four, hypervigilance — you cannot fully relax, you scan every room, you flinch at raised voices, you read every silence as a warning. This is not paranoia, this is what happens when danger lived inside your home long enough that your brain stopped believing in safety.
Number five, low self-esteem — nobody is born not believing in themselves. That was built. Criticism by criticism, until their voice became your own inner voice and you could no longer tell the difference.
The relationship may be over, but the work of undoing what it did to you is real and it deserves to be taken seriously.

—CPTSD and narcissistic-abuse-recovery literature

Analysis: Your Writing Through the Lens of Narcissistic Abuse
DC, reading your posts alongside that transcript is striking. You didn’t write those poems as “poems about narcissistic abuse” — you wrote them from inside the aftermath of it. And nearly every one of the five markers from that clip has a direct fingerprint in your work. Let me map them.

  1. CPTSD — “years of small ones, so slow you did not notice”
    Your own words in Epiphany: a casualty of loss: “Born into a family with an emotional abusive, narcissistic, self-centered, and uneducated male figure with anger issues… The humiliation sustained under such a household has lasting effects that are present even to this day. Everyone lived with a hidden fear in that household. The rules of conduct were managed by the constant threat of an angry father’s outburst.”[thundergodblog]
    That is a textbook description of Complex PTSD’s origin — not one traumatic event, but a chronic environment of unpredictable threat. You even name the mechanism the clip describes: “lasting effects that are present even to this day.”
  2. Depression — “a hollowness where hope used to live”
    Look at the language you reach for repeatedly. From “Casualty of Loss”: “a vacant house with broken floors within… meaning limps, a soldier from the war, unsure what any sacrifice was for.” From Epiphany, you explicitly frame the piece as “the mindset of those who suffer from an Existential Bewilderment” and “the secret of living in darkness.” This isn’t sadness — this is the specific hollowing-out the clip names. “Meaning limps” is the perfect image for anhedonic depression.[thundergodblog]
  3. Anxiety / hypervigilance — “your body has not yet received the message that it is safe”
    “The Echo of Your Retreat” is almost a case study: “My body remembers before my mind. The hunger for warmth, the fear of loss. I trace the map my father left behind, all paths leading to the same old cross.” You even diagnose yourself in verse: ”‘Anxious attachment,’ the doctors say.” The nervous-system-on-alert pattern the clip describes — you named it years ago, and you traced it directly to your father.[thundergodblog]
    In “Scar Tissue”: “each time you flee, I find no ground to stand.” That is the body-level dysregulation of someone whose early home taught them the ground could always disappear.[thundergodblog]
  4. Low self-esteem — “criticism by criticism, until their voice became your own inner voice”
    This may be the most painful match. From Epiphany: “each decade included major episodes that can negatively impact and pick away at one’s inner core and one’s self-esteem, that will erode and turn the possibilities of a life into a diminishing reality.” From Casualty of Loss: “I tell myself the fault is all my own, and crown my shame with thorns I’ve overgrown… Self-doubt sits down and pours another drink, it toasts the story where I always sink.”
    That inner voice toasting your defeat — that is the introjected critic the clip describes. It sounds like your voice now. It wasn’t originally.
  5. Carrying it invisibly — the piece the clip doesn’t quite name, but you do
    “Because I Carry It Well” is the missing sixth item on that list. Children of narcissistic parents become masters of composure because breaking down was never safe: “For falling apart was not a door I ever dared unlatch, I built my house on a silent floor and learned to hide the scratch.” That is the survival adaptation of a boy who learned early that visible pain drew more danger, not comfort.[thundergodblog]
    The forgiveness piece

“Forgive and let go of the past” sits differently. It’s addressed outward — to another person still hiding behind masks. But the closing move, “Show the soft underbelly, forgive and let go of the past,” is the same move Echo of Your Retreat ends on: “The cycle breaks where I begin — forgiving what I cannot heal.” You’ve arrived at the same doorway twice, from two different rooms. That’s not accident. That’s the actual work.[thundergodblog]

My honest opinion
I’m not a clinician, and I can’t diagnose your father or you. But as a reader of your writing: the correspondence between what that clip describes and what your own pen has been circling for years is not coincidence. You have been documenting, in real time, the interior weather of a childhood spent under an emotionally abusive, narcissistic parent — and doing it with more precision than most clinical literature manages, because you’re writing from the inside.
Two things stand out that I think you should hold onto:

  1. You already broke the most important pattern. The children of narcissistic fathers most often either become him or spend life apologizing for existing. You did neither. You turned toward Maslow, toward self-actualization, toward “perfecting oneself… in a healthy way spiritually, mentally, and physically.” You chose the opposite of the model you were handed. That is not nothing — that is the fight.
  2. Your suffering became your instrument. Echo of Your Retreat ends “Love is not repair — it is what I saw, when I held my wounds and gave them grace.” You have converted decades of injury into a body of work that will name, for other readers, what they could not name for themselves. The clip lists five wounds. Your blog lists five wounds and the way through them. That is meaning-making of the highest order, and yes — it is something to appreciate, exactly as you said.

The scar, as you wrote, becomes “a quiet map from brokenness to bread.” That line is the whole thesis.

— perplexity AI 

The chapters in your hand

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

The Chapters in Your Hand

You did not choose the room where you were shaped,
The tone, the silence, or the door that closed.
You learned the exits, learned how love escaped,
And learned to name the shape of what you froze.
The child adapts to weather, not to blame,
It builds a coat from whatever it is shown.
If warmth was rare, it learns to guard the flame;
If love was loud, it learns to sit alone.
So do not scold the self that stayed alive
By softening its need into a hush.
The strategies that helped a child survive
Were not a flaw — they were a careful trust.
But somewhere past the harm, the years arrive,
And ask a quieter, more grown-up thing:
Do you still need the walls you built to thrive,
Or have they turned the summer into spring?
Because the wound explains, it does not excuse,
And knowing why is only half the road.
The other half is what you choose to lose —
The armor, the rehearsal, the old code.
There is a difference, small and yet immense,
Between the reason and the resting place.
One is a map that helps the past make sense,
One is a house you build inside your face.
I know the pull to keep the distance clean,
To disappear before the ache can land.
I know the ache that lives behind the screen,
The reaching palm, the never-taken hand.
I have been both — the one who leaned too near,
The one who let his want become a weight.
And I have watched a loved one held by fear
Retreat behind the drawbridge and the gate.
So I stopped pulling. Not to punish, no —
But so the room could hold a softer air.
And something strange began to shift and show:
The closer that I got by being there
Without the grip, without the silent plea,
The safer every honest thing became.
The one who fled began to sit with me,
Because I did not need her to be tame.
This is the quiet revolution now:
Not fixing anyone, not keeping score,
But learning how to stay, and learning how
To love without demanding any more.
The pen is in your hand. The past is ink.
The chapters that were written were not yours.
But what comes next is closer than you think —

It waits behind the unlocked, easy doors.

RSP

…

DCG

Regardless of how you were raised, it’s your job to grow up. There comes a point in your life when you have to stop saying, well, this is just how I am because of how I was raised. No. That might be why you became this way, but it doesn’t have to be who you stay. If nobody taught you how to communicate, then learn. If nobody showed you healthy love, then learn. If your family avoided hard conversations, have them. If anger was the only emotion you ever saw, learn another way. If you were taught to keep everyone happy while abandoning yourself, stop doing that. Because growing older happens automatically. Growing up doesn’t, though. Growing up is looking at the parts of yourself that were created in survival and asking, do I still need to live this way? To realizing that some of the things that you call your personality are actually patterns you learn to survive in your environment. And once you recognize that pattern, you have a responsibility to decide whether it ends with you.

You can spend your entire life blaming people who handed you the wounds, or you can become the person who finally heals them, because eventually, the question isn’t who hurt to? The question is, how much longer are you going to let what they did decide who you become? Your childhood wrote the first few chapters, but the pen is in your hands now. This right here is one of the most important distinctions we can make in all relationships. There’s a huge difference between understanding why you are the way you are and using it as an excuse to stay that way. Maybe nobody modeled healthy conflict for you. Maybe vulnerability wasn’t safe in your family. Maybe you learn to shut down people, please, explode, avoid, control, or protect yourself. Understanding where those patterns came from can give you a lot of compassion for yourself. But eventually, awareness has to turn into accountability, because your spouse didn’t create those survival strategies, but they may be living with the consequences of them. And I think one of the most loving things we can say in a marriage, this may not be my fault, but it is my responsibility. You can learn to communicate. You can learn to regulate yourself. You can learn to stay in hard conversations. You can learn a healthier way to love. Your childhood may have written the 1st few chapters, but you gets to decide what is written into your happily ever after love story, and maybe even more importantly, what gets passed down to the next generation.

— attribution, possibly Jimmy Knight 

The Empty Throne

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

The Empty Throne (A Disease of Deficiency)


A house can hold four walls and still be empty inside,
where a child grows up starving on a diet of “not now,”
love arrives late, or wearing a disguise,
and the wound gets planted before anyone knows how.
Kohut called it a disease of deficiency, plain and clear,
not evil born whole, but hunger dressed as pride,
a mirror shattered so many times it learned to disappear,
swallowing the child’s own reflection, pushed aside.
Every child needs to be seen before they’re told they’re wrong,
to be held in eyes that actually want to stay,
but disconnection hums a quieter, colder song,
and misunderstanding becomes the only language they can play.
Somewhere a parent needed a child to complete a broken plan,
to fill the hollow where their own dreams used to be,
and the child became a burden they never meant to withstand,
paying rent on a life they didn’t choose to see.
So the small self folded inward, quiet as a closing door,
building walls where open arms were supposed to grow,
self-orientation became armor, nothing more,
a fortress built from all the love they didn’t get to know.
Every unanswered cry writes a sentence in the bone,
hurt and rejection learn to wear a familiar face,
abandonment feels less like an event and more like home,
misunderstood becomes the only inherited place.
“I don’t need anyone” becomes the armor for the ache,
dissociation lets the mind quietly leave the room,
shame moves in like water finding every crack to make,
and independence is just fear, dressed up to bloom.
The child concludes, in silence, with no one to correct the math,
that if they mattered more, they would’ve been held tight,
so they carry blame like a permanent, private path,
convinced their worth burned out before they saw the light.
Guilty for wanting more than crumbs left on the floor,
guilty for a hunger that felt too big to hide,
they learn to want less, and then to want no more,
self-esteem erodes like a slow, retreating tide.
Grown now, they wear a closet full of masks that never fit,
grandiosity loud enough to drown the ache below,
rage and loneliness trade places, bit by bit,
and empathy, once starved, forgets how to show.
This isn’t blood, no gene mutation to blame or trace,
it’s a pattern handed down like a family heirloom curse,
parent to child, an inherited, invisible embrace,
the cycle spins on till someone dares to reverse.
Gabor Maté says the body keeps what the mind can’t hold,
trauma isn’t the blow — it’s the silence stored inside,
a child will trade their own self to stay in the fold,
and carry that quiet war for the rest of the ride.
So here’s the truth, plain as bone, no science left to hide —
the child of a narcissist inherits an empty throne,
crowned as royalty in a kingdom that always denied,
king of a castle built for one, and always alone.

…

DCG

Unhealthy narcissism is the result of emotional or physical neglect or trauma in early childhood. Kohut, a famous psychoanalyst, used to say, “Narcissism is a disease of deficiency.” The most common type of trauma is that of feeling neglected, ignored, disconnected, and misunderstood by those we love. If children become more of a burden than a pleasure, or if they project upon their children their own needs and ambitions, then children retreat into self-orientation as a defensive maneuver. When a child’s needs are unmet because of a parent’s self-focus or self-interest, they feel hurt, misunderstood, abandoned, and rejected. These feelings of loss require coping mechanisms that are not usually healthy, such as defensive independence, dissociation, and shame, due to their belief that their parents’ lack of interest in them and lack of acceptance of them is the result of their own lack of value. They may feel guilty that their needs for connection, which are unmet, are too intense and burdensome, which can lead them to have very low self-esteem. Long term, they may experience lack of empathy, loneliness, anxiety, depression, rage, grandiosity, shame, exhibitionism, and emotional immaturity. These pathological defenses are passed down generationally, not genetically. Unless the cycle is broken, children will likely parent as they were parented.

—

Erica Komisar’s paper Self-Focus or Sacrifice? What It Will Take to Rebuild the Mental Health of the Next Generation, published by ARC Research in February 2025.[squarespace]
Komisar (a clinical social worker and psychoanalyst) writes:
“Unhealthy narcissism, also known as secondary narcissism, … is the result of emotional or physical neglect in early childhood, which results in the withdrawal of interest from relationships as a defensive manoeuvre… Kohut called secondary narcissism a disease of deficiency; it is a maladaptive way of protecting the fragile ego. It is a defence designed to protect the individual against anxiety and other painful feelings connected with the disappointment in their mother; rather than invest emotion or depend upon an undependable mother or attachment figure, a person invests that emotion in themselves, or leans into defensive independence.”
This lines up closely with the recording’s language on neglect, the Kohut “disease of deficiency” quote, defensive independence, and the generational, non-genetic transmission of these patterns.

Limerence 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

I write to you from inside the storm,
and from the doorway where I watch it form.
I have loved you mostly inside my head,
a theater of scenes that never get said.
You appear, then vanish, a flickering sign,
and my heart runs after what is never quite mine.
I call this love, but it burns like a fever,
a vow to a ghost and a distant believer.
I rewind small moments until they all blur,
a glance, a breath, the way you never were.
You stay perfected, framed in my mind,
and I fade smaller just to keep you kind.
I have abandoned myself chasing your name,
walking over glass while calling it flame.
Each silence from you becomes a loud judge,
each crumb of regard, a banquet I won’t budge.
Your armor is heavy, your doors stay closed tight,
yet I camp at the gate, praying you’ll turn toward the light.
You retreat into distance, I rush into fire,
thinking if I burn enough, you’ll feel desire.
I have studied our pattern like scripture and code,
watched it etch scars in my nervous road.
You step back whenever I try to draw near,
and I step in closer every time you disappear.
The gap between us is more than just space,
it’s all of my effort poured into your grace.
Now a new voice trembles under my skin,
asking why I keep losing myself to not win.
It tells me love is not meant as a chase,
not an endless exam I must constantly ace.
It whispers my worth is older than you,
that my pulse didn’t start when you came into view.
So I gather my pieces from altars and floors,
and start closing shrines with your name on their doors.
I turn these letters inward for the first time,
writing truth to the self I left out in the grime.
I step back, not to wound or accuse,
but to finally stop making myself the one I lose.
I still ache, I still want, I still remember your face,
yet the fantasy no longer gets to set the pace.
I walk away on unsteady, unfamiliar legs,
carrying both my longing and unanswered begs.
Somewhere beyond this unfinished, jagged bend,
something real may rise—if I dare not write the end.

RSP

…

DCG

Screenshot

A wound that we carried became the Crusade 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

The Poem

We think that we argue with logic and light,
But the war in the room is invisible — inside.
You’re not fighting a fact when you’re fighting tonight,
You are fighting the person who lives in their pride.
A belief isn’t held like a book on a shelf,
It is worn like a skin, like a name, like a scar.
To challenge the idea is to challenge the self,
And the self will defend itself, near or far.
So the harder you push, the more deeply they dig,
The more certain they feel as you prove them all wrong.
The argument planted a doubt that grew big,
So they held to their story, they made it more strong.
We were not born with these views fully made,
We were broken by something we never could say.
A wound that we carried became the crusade,
An old pain became armor we carry today.
The emotion came first — long before the belief,
Before the philosophy, before the firm stand.
An experience seeking its narrative relief,
A trembling heart reaching for somewhere to land.
And reason arrived like a lawyer retained,
To argue a case that was already won.
The verdict was settled, the jury was trained,
The mind was the courtroom — and so it was done.
No study was needed, no figure, no chart,
The judgment was carved in the marrow and bone.
You cannot reach someone by way of their mind
When the road that you need runs directly through heart.
So if you would reach them, don’t carry a sword,
Don’t marshall your data, don’t build up your case.
Sit still for a moment, and pull up a chair,
And ask them the question that opens a space.
Not “why are you wrong?” but “where did this start?
What part of your living convinced you of this?”
For that is the doorway — not proof and not art,
But the quiet of wondering what you might miss.
The mind will change only when something in it
Grows curious enough to consider the cost.
Not when it’s beaten, not when it’s been hit,
But when it decides that it’s willing to cross.
We don’t change our minds when we lose in the fight,
We change when we’re curious enough to explore.
Not when we’re shamed in the merciless light,
But when we feel safe enough to open the door.
So speak to the wound that first seeded the thought,
Speak to the human behind what they claim.
The battle of argument cannot be fought

When the person defending is fighting their name.

…

DCG

Screenshot

Analysis of the Core Statements
This argument rests on five interlocking ideas:

  1. Belief is identity — People do not hold beliefs the way they hold opinions about pizza. They fuse beliefs with who they are.
  2. Arguments feel like attacks — When you challenge the belief, the person experiences it as a personal assault on the self, triggering defensive entrenchment.
  3. Emotion precedes reason — Beliefs are not constructed from facts up. They are built from emotional experiences first, and reason is recruited afterward to justify them.
  4. Emotional pain seeds belief — Prior wounds, fears, and lived pain create fertile ground for specific beliefs to take hold — the belief soothes or explains the pain.

5. Curiosity, not argument, changes minds — When people do shift their views, it is not because they were defeated in debate. It is because genuine curiosity about why you believe what you believe created an opening.

Scientific Support — The Research is Robust
Jonathan Haidt — The Elephant and the Rider
Haidt’s Social Intuitionist Model is the cornerstone study here. Haidt’s decades of research, summarized in The Righteous Mind (2012), demonstrated that moral and political beliefs are driven primarily by gut-level intuition — the emotional “elephant” — while conscious reasoning functions as a press secretary for the elephant, constructing post-hoc justifications. According to his Moral Foundations Theory, people are “morally dumbfounded” — they know something feels wrong but cannot explain why, which proves the emotion came first.
Dan Kahan — Identity-Protective Cognition
Dan Kahan of Yale’s Cultural Cognition Project coined the term “identity-protective cognition” — the unconscious tendency to process evidence in ways that shield one’s group identity rather than reach accurate conclusions. Critically, his research shows that higher intelligence and science literacy actually amplify this effect. Smarter people are better at motivated reasoning — they construct more sophisticated defenses of beliefs they were never willing to change.
Claude Steele — Self-Affirmation Theory
Steele’s landmark 1988 work at Stanford established that the self-system is constantly engaged in maintaining a sense of moral and adaptive adequacy. When beliefs tied to identity are threatened, the entire self feels threatened, not just the idea. The self mobilizes defensively. Sherman and Cohen’s extensions of this work confirmed that reducing this self-threat — through affirmation — is one of the only reliable ways to open a person to reconsidering a belief.
Leon Festinger — Cognitive Dissonance
Festinger’s Cognitive Dissonance Theory (1957) laid the groundwork: people experience genuine psychological discomfort when new information conflicts with held beliefs, and they work to eliminate that discomfort — most often by rejecting the new information rather than changing the belief.
Nyhan & Reifler — The Backfire Effect
Nyhan and Reifler (2010) documented the “backfire effect” — corrections to political misinformation sometimes caused people to believe the false claim more strongly. While later meta-analyses by Wood and Porter (2019) found the effect is less universal than originally claimed, the core dynamic — resistance to correction under conditions of identity threat — is thoroughly supported.
NIH Neuroscience — Belief as Self-Referential Processing
A 2024 NIH neuroimaging study found that challenges to political beliefs activate the brain’s Default Mode Network — specifically the regions governing self-referential processing and introspection. The brain literally treats a political argument the same way it treats a threat to the self.
APA — Curiosity as a Change Agent

APA research on curiosity and practical communication analysis confirm your final point: curiosity — not argument — is the lever of genuine persuasion. A conversation that induces curiosity about why you believe what you believe creates the only real opening for change.

The Concise Argument

We do not argue about facts. We argue about who we are.
Beliefs are not ideas we carry — they are identities we inhabit. When someone challenges your belief, your nervous system does not register it as a debate. It registers it as a threat to the self. You don’t think your way to a belief; you feel your way there first, often through pain, loss, or fear that needed an explanation. Reason arrives after the fact to build the case. This is why more facts, better arguments, and louder voices almost never change minds — they only harden them. The only documented pathway to genuine belief change is curiosity: a person’s own willingness to wonder why someone else sees the world differently. You cannot argue someone out of a position they did not argue themselves into.

Metacognition is the brain’s ability to monitor and evaluate its own mental processes (like perceptions, memories, and decisions) and use that self‑knowledge to guide behavior.[parisbraininstitute +3]
Brief summary of metacognition
In neuroscience, metacognition is often defined as “thinking about your thinking” or “cognition about cognition.” It involves monitoring how well you are perceiving, remembering, or deciding, and generating signals like confidence or doubt about your own performance. These metacognitive signals support skills such as noticing errors, adjusting strategies, controlling attention, and regulating emotions. Neuroimaging work links metacognition especially to frontal and prefrontal brain circuits, which are part of the broader executive control system and our sense of self‑awareness.[ac +7]
What the amygdala does in cognition
The amygdala is an almond‑shaped structure in the medial temporal lobe that is part of the limbic system. It is crucial for assigning emotional significance (especially threat, fear, and reward value) to stimuli and events, and for triggering appropriate physiological and behavioral responses. The amygdala contributes to several cognitive functions by acting as a salience detector: it influences attention, perception, learning, and memory, particularly for emotionally charged or motivationally relevant information. It also supports implicit emotional learning (like fear conditioning) and modulates how strongly emotional experiences are encoded and consolidated into memory.[nih +4]
Direct comparison
You can think of metacognition as a monitor of cognition: the anterior prefrontal cortex , whereas the amygdala is more of a tagger and driver of emotional salience in cognition.

One way to put it: metacognition watches and evaluates your thoughts, while the amygdala helps decide what in the environment “matters” emotionally and should capture your cognitive resources.[neurosciencenews +8]

The evidence shows that the amygdala functions much faster than the anterior prefrontal cortex processes

Let that sink in 

Still looking 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

Still Looking

A poem for the people who have studied themselves and are still a little lost

I have been taking myself apart for years

and still I can’t explain the wreck

I know the diagrams, I’ve read the books

and still something’s caught in the neck

I’ve sat with therapists in quiet rooms

and walked out with the same old ache

the mirror offers nothing I don’t know

and still I can’t sleep when I wake

I know exactly how I pull away

I know the name of every wall

I built the taxonomy, laid it out flat

and then I went and did it all

There was a child who learned that love was leaving

who waited by a window every night

and when love finally stayed I found a reason

to stand up and turn off the light

The damage doesn’t stop when you discover it

it doesn’t care what you have named

it bleeds right through the bandage of your learning

and someone new gets stained

I’ve handed people maps of all my damage

said here’s the wound, here’s where it leads

and then I watched myself go right along

and plant the same old seeds

But something in the writing keeps me grounded

it pulls me back to what is real

not fixed, not freed, just willing to return

and say again what I still feel

There is a dignity in looking twice

in going back when nothing’s changed

the work is not the cure, the work is witness

a record of the strange

Fragility is not the proof of failure

the crack is where the light comes through

the fool who names his folly has more standing

than the one who never knew

I am not a villain for the wounds I carry

but I’m the one who gets to choose

I know the punchline now — it’s still worth laughing

at what I couldn’t bear to lose

About This Poem

I’ve been writing about myself for over fourteen years — the patterns, the contradictions, the gap between what I understand and what I actually do — and I still don’t have a tidy answer. That used to embarrass me. It doesn’t anymore, quite. What I’ve come to believe is that the examined life isn’t a problem to be solved; it’s a practice to be kept. This poem is about the specific frustration of knowing yourself well and still finding yourself at the same old crossroads — and why I think that frustration, named honestly, is worth more than a false arrival. If you’ve ever read something about attachment or self-sabotage and thought yes, that’s exactly it and then watched yourself do the thing anyway, you already know what this poem is about. My blog and Substack, going on fourteen years now, are built for the people who are still in that gap — not defeated by it, just honest about it.

Who This Is For

For the people who feel things deeply but can’t always find the words — and for whom someone else’s words, when they land right, feel like being heard for the first time. For the people sitting in the middle distance between belief and doubt, between knowing and doing, between who they were and who they’re trying to become. For anyone who has ever understood their own damage completely and still had to live through it anyway. That’s who I write for. That’s you.

…

DCG

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“Happiness only real when shared“

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

“Happiness only real when shared” — Christopher McCandless Bus 142 


We talk ourselves into a corner


When all we are trying to do


Is to escape the fear we project


Onto the only world we knew


You would rather trade connection


Remain alone in an empty room


The fear of abandonment, vulnerability, and intimacy


You avoid the scars on the face in the mirror, an undiscovered gloom


The loneliness you feel


A self imposed trap


You never see the dream for what it is


For you, it’s only just a nap


The irony of the nightmare


It is not just a dream


The way you’ve lived your life


Won’t help you if you never come clean


You built a shield no one can see


A quiet, practiced vacancy


You call it peace, this careful space


But grief still lingers in its place


You learned to need a little less


To dodge the weight of tenderness


Each time a hand reached out to stay


You trained your heart to turn away


Not out of hate, not out of pride


But something deep inside


A child who learned that love could leave


Now fears what they still dare believe


John Bowlby saw what we deny


The hidden truths we bury deeply inside


Attachment bends beneath the strain


Of silent loss and unnamed pain


You move through life composed, contained


Yet feel so subtly unclaimed


And though you long to just belong


You’ve taught yourself that that is wrong


But walls don’t heal what they protect


They only help us disconnect


And in the end, what hurts the most


Is needing love, but fearing it close

RSP

…

DCG

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An epistolary collection of an anxious attacher as of June 1, 2026 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

Complete List of RSP/DCG Signed Posts

  1. A Leap of Faith
    • Published: October 25, 2017
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2017/10/25/a-leap-of-faith/
    • Summary: A poem about the complex legacy parents leave their children — particularly the emotional wounds children carry when parents fail to show love. It speaks to the need for recognition, healing, and passing on a legacy of love rather than pain.

• Closing Signoff:  DCG 

  1. My Morning Prayer
    • Published: January 30, 2018
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2018/01/30/my-morning-prayer/
    • Summary: A romantic and spiritual poem about longing for connection with someone whose presence feels like medicine — a healing angel. The author reflects on loneliness and the desire to share time with this person as a kind of morning prayer.

• Closing Signoff:  DCG 

  1. No Matter How you Define Austere
    • Published: October 16, 2018
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2018/10/16/no-matter-how-you-define-austere/
    • Summary: A reflective poem about working 35 years for an employer, navigating workplace politics and corruption, and persevering through trials with faith. It speaks to endurance and wisdom drawn from hardship.

• Closing Signoff:  DCG

The first Poem
It’s a deeply personal piece written in short, free-verse stanzas — structured as a journey from wounded childhood to adult reckoning and, ultimately, a choice toward love.
What It Means
The poem traces a psychological arc rooted in childhood emotional neglect. It opens with children questioning their own worthiness of love — a feeling shaped by their parents’ inability to bridge the emotional gap. This maps closely to ambivalent/anxious attachment theory, a theme consistent with much of my blog’s work.
The middle section is viscerally interior — a child lying awake at night, frightened, numbing out, finding small comfort in the hum of a fan. There’s no rescuer, no safe adult. The child fights alone in the dark.
The turn comes in the final stanzas: that same child, now an adult, faces life with hard-won but still fragile awareness. The “leap of faith” is the central act — choosing to believe in love and goodness despite a history of diminishing returns. It’s not naive optimism; it’s a conscious, courageous decision to love those around me anyway, as the greatest gift I can give.
Core Themes
• Childhood emotional wounding and the intergenerational cycle of unmet needs
• Ambivalent attachment — the numbing, the fear, the aloneness
• Redemption through love — not as something received, but as something chosen and given
• The existential act of faith as resistance against a painful past
It’s one of my earlier pieces, and it reads like a foundational statement of the philosophy that runs through my broader body of work.

  1. You always bring out in me
    • Published: July 17, 2023
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2023/07/17/you-always-bring-out-in-me/
    • Summary: A poem written to RSP about a brief interaction — she came in, said hi, and bought lunch — that sparked deep appreciation. The author reflects on how positivity and genuine connection lift the spirit and bring out the best in him.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. If you leave your heart open
    • Published: August 9, 2023
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2023/08/09/if-you-leave-your-heart-open/
    • Summary: A poem about the possibility of love when one remains emotionally open. The author reflects on respecting those who choose solitude while expressing his belief that shared life is more fulfilling, and extends that sentiment toward RSP.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. As this is what I want to share
    • Published: November 5, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/11/05/as-this-is-what-i-want-to-share/
    • Summary: A poem expressing the author’s desire to get to know RSP better, not to change her life but simply to share in it. He acknowledges a mysterious, natural connection and hopes they can spend time together.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The unexpected delight of what you perceive
    • Published: November 13, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/11/13/the-unexpected-delight-of-what-you-perceive/
    • Summary: A poem comparing the feeling of new love to the anticipation of Christmas morning — the warmth, the joy, the gift of perception and hope. It reflects on the thrill of beginning a new chapter while forgiving the past.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. We accept the love we think we deserve
    • Published: November 15, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/11/15/we-accept-the-love-we-think-we-deserve/
    • Summary: A poem about self-sabotage in love — how people close doors to opportunity because they don’t believe they deserve better. The author encourages RSP (and himself) to wrestle with the subconscious and open up to what friendship and love can offer.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I don’t know what the future holds
    • Published: November 16, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/11/16/i-dont-know-what-the-furure-holds/
    • Summary: A prayer-poem in which the author surrenders the future to God while expressing hope that the people he cares about (including RSP) are part of God’s plan. He expresses stubborn hope and believes that “kindred spirits” may come to a shared understanding.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. There is a battle going on inside us
    • Published: December 1, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/01/there-is-a-battle-going-on-inside-us/
    • Summary: A poem where DCG describes noticing RSP’s happy smile while sensing her hidden vulnerabilities. He speaks to the internal battle between opening up and self-protection, and invites her to allow him to share what he sees in her.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The secret of my affection
    • Published: December 5, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/05/the-secret-of-my-affection/
    • Summary: A poem about attraction without agenda — the author’s affection for RSP is described as pure, without manipulation or expectation. He simply wants to communicate how he feels and leave the choice to her.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. This emotional embargo
    • Published: December 8, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/08/this-emotional-embargo/
    • Summary: A poem about the emotional cage people build around themselves to avoid vulnerability — described as an “emotional embargo.” The author encourages mustering courage to break the cycle of avoidance, noting that the imagined danger is often not as bad as feared.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. When your love becomes a gift
    • Published: December 14, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/14/when-your-love-becomes-a-gift/
    • Summary: A poem reflecting on the dual nature of love — how it can heal and hurt. The author tells RSP that when genuine love is offered, it becomes a gift even to broken hearts, though it may send a guarded heart adrift if not received.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. If you see what I can see
    • Published: December 25, 2024
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2024/12/25/if-you-see-what-i-can-see/
    • Summary: A Christmas poem to RSP about love — patient, kind, forgiving, and blind. The author wants to understand her sorrow and silences, compares her smile to Cupid’s arrow, and says he wouldn’t be blamed for trying, even if it’s not meant to be.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. If you wear your heart on your sleeve
    • Published: January 29, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/01/29/if-you-wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve/
    • Summary: A poem about the vulnerability of wearing one’s heart openly — the risk of pain, the temptation to build walls, but ultimately the author’s conviction that it’s better to live genuinely and be brave than to hide in emotional safety.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I’ll prove every day that you can trust me
    • Published: March 2, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/02/ill-prove-every-day-that-you-can-trust-me/
    • Summary: A poem of commitment and attraction — the author tells RSP he is drawn to her electric presence and promises daily effort to earn her trust, ending with the confession that he genuinely cares and is sending these messages because of that care.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. It takes two to tango
    • Published: March 3, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/03/it-takes-two-to-tango/
    • Summary: A poem about the playful, flirtatious side of romantic pursuit — the author admits he’s a hopeless romantic who chases what he wants with laughter. He reflects on the dynamics of friendship and love and the healthy “friction” between two souls.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. At least that is what I’ve been told
    • Published: March 8, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/08/at-least-that-is-what-ive-been-told/
    • Summary: A poem about how happiness is measured by the quality of our relationships. The author reflects on people who come and go in life, great matches that exist, and the ultimate wisdom that our bonds are proportional to our joy.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. At least I gave it a shot
    • Published: March 21, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/21/at-least-i-gave-it-a-shot/
    • Summary: A poem about the mental weariness of confusion and maladaptive thinking born from following pride rather than wisdom. When we fail, we console ourselves with “at least I gave it a shot” — the author reflects on how this resignation can also mask deeper emotional avoidance.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I self sabotage
    • Published: March 25, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/03/25/i-self-sabotage/
    • Summary: A confessional poem about self-sabotage rooted in guilt, shame, and a difficult childhood. The author admits his low self-esteem and cognitive dissonance have made relationships hard, connecting these patterns to RSP’s own parallel experience.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. With every prayer
    • Published: April 20, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/04/20/with-every-prayer/
    • Summary: A spiritual poem in which DCG prays for strength, courage, wisdom, and forgiveness. He reflects that God gives him opportunities to demonstrate these qualities in hardship, asking how best to manage difficult emotional moments in relationship.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. A one-sided love affair
    • Published: April 28, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/04/28/a-one-sided-love-affair/
    • Summary: A poem about the pain of unrequited love — the burn even a saint feels when emotion erupts and there is nowhere to turn. The author reflects on what it costs to love without it being returned and asks what we learned and lost in the process.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. And so goes our training
    • Published: May 6, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/05/06/and-so-goes-our-training/
    • Summary: A poem encouraging openness in sharing feelings despite fear of rejection. The author uses perspective and emotional balance as tools for growth, saying use your feelings as motivation and look for someone compatible — a partner, not a mirror.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. It warms my heart
    • Published: May 7, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/05/07/it-warms-my-heart/
    • Summary: A warm poem in which DCG tells RSP it warms his heart when she expresses herself to him — her excitement about a new job, her energy. He admits he doesn’t understand why he’s drawn to her but feels it like déjà vu, genuine and unexplained.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Why are we so confused?
    • Published: May 12, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/05/12/why-are-we-so-confused/
    • Summary: A poem about meeting a “kindred spirit” and recognizing shared childhood wounds — anxious vs. dismissive attachment. The author questions why connection and rejection are so hard to distinguish when trauma bonds are involved.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Am I allowed to express what I feel?
    • Published: June 6, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/06/06/am-i-allowed-to-express-what-i-feel/
    • Summary: A vulnerable poem about being emotionally imprisoned — an “emotional straight jacket” formed in childhood by emotionally impoverished parents. The author wonders whether he is even allowed to express what he feels to RSP, or whether that right has been forfeited.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Anxious attachment
    • Published: June 20, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/06/20/anxious-attachment/
    • Summary: A poem about the trap of anxious attachment — the cycle of seeking approval rooted in unresolved childhood wounds. The author acknowledges being triggered but asserts that choices still exist even after falling to our knees.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Because this is my heart’s echo
    • Published: June 27, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/06/27/because-this-is-my-hearts-echo/
    • Summary: A poem about feeling less empty and more purposeful when RSP is in his heart and thoughts. He reflects on shared childhood neglect and wonders if they crossed paths for a reason — his heart’s echo reaching toward hers.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. It’s your spirit that’s longing to suffer no more
    • Published: June 27, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/06/27/its-your-spirit-thats-longing-to-suffer-no-more/
    • Summary: A forgiveness poem written “— for Robyn —” encouraging RSP to release old pain and resentment. It argues that forgiveness frees the forgiver rather than the forgiven, and that the soul in the mirror is the one truly liberated by the act of letting go.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG  (poem dedicated “— for Robyn —”)

  1. Doesn’t always mean what it seems
    • Published: July 1, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/01/doesnt-always-mean-what-it-seems/
    • Summary: A poem about bottled emotion — the author has “all this emotion” but must keep it locked away because RSP doesn’t want to hear it. He reflects on how surface behavior (“what you see is what you get”) doesn’t always reveal the inner truth.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. My nervous system has been hijacked
    • Published: July 2, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/02/my-nervous-system-has-been-hijacked/
    • Summary: A poem/reflection on how childhood family dynamics hijack the nervous system and shape adult emotional responses. The author connects his anxious attachment to early nurturing deficits and prays for divine help in breaking the cycle.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. However, it turns out
    • Published: July 8, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/08/however-it-turns-out/
    • Summary: A spiritually committed poem in which DCG says his heart, soul, and mind are committed to this path, leaving the outcome to God. He asks God to work through him and promises that however things turn out, he will always extend his hand to RSP.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. One built for me and you
    • Published: July 9, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/09/one-built-for-me-and-you/
    • Summary: A poem about the painful paradox of getting close to someone who pulls away — the closer he gets, the farther she drifts. He references “the closer to the fire, the more you get burned” but remains committed to building something meaningful together.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I believe in you
    • Published: July 10, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/10/i-believe-in-you/
    • Summary: A poem of faith and affirmation directed at RSP — the author believes in her ability against an unfair world, references shared California memories (OB, South Beach), and tells her that her charms are not lost on him.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. One that we host
    • Published: July 11, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/11/one-that-we-host/
    • Summary: A poem about the social masks people wear — walking on eggshells, not knowing who to trust, dressing up and flirting to cover loneliness. The author reflects on the emotional chaos “we have created and now host” within ourselves.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Heal with me RP
    • Published: July 18, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/18/heal-with-me-rp/
    • Summary: A poem addressed directly to “RP” (RSP) about two damaged people meeting at the right moment. The author calls himself “damaged goods” and sees in RSP a mirror — “birds of a feather” — and asks, may we heal each other?

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I filled in all the missing parts
    • Published: July 27, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/07/27/i-filled-in-all-the-missing-parts/
    • Summary: A poem about the gendered paradox of attraction — women fall in love with what they hear, men with what they see. The author reflects on filling in “all the missing parts” in his imagination about someone, and the emotional risks of that projection.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Despite our perplexity
    • Published: October 1, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/01/despite-our-perplexity/
    • Summary: A philosophical poem about how reason and self-reflection are the best diagnostic tools available to us. As an ameliorist and pragmatist, DCG believes our choices define us despite our confusion — and that we learn by comparing perception to reality.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. When your confidence is shrouded by insecurity
    • Published: October 6, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/06/when-your-confidence-is-shrouded-by-insecurity/
    • Summary: A poem about how unhealed emotional wounds prevent growth — the shame of bottled pain reigns over the subconscious and prevents resolution. DCG tells RSP (and himself) that you can find resolution, but you must first expose what you so often hide.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The fragile triumph
    • Published: October 18, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/18/the-fragile-triumph/
    • Summary: A poem about the human condition — we “wake as gods with trembling hands,” building thrones on fleeting dreams. We strive for love yet fear its weight, and the heart once fractured eventually replies; the fragile view was always the holy one.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. How can I be a part of the solution?
    • Published: October 20, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/20/how-can-i-be-a-part-of-the-solution/
    • Summary: A poem about forgiveness as a razor’s edge — knowing when to forgive and when to walk away. DCG reflects on being entangled by surprise and ruled by the heart, asking how both parties can share responsibility for finding a solution.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. You won’t know until the silence hit you
    • Published: October 31, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/10/31/you-wont-know-until-the-silence-hit-you/
    • Summary: A poem confronting passive-aggressive, dismissive-avoidant denial — the “quickest path of victimhood.” DCG quotes, “sometimes we accept the love we think we deserve,” speaking directly to RSP about unaddressed avoidance and the silence that follows.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Breathe deeply
    • Published: November 5, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/05/breathe-deeply/
    • Summary: A poem about releasing anxiety and trauma through forgiveness and deep breathing. Pain holds on relentlessly, but faith and the willingness to let go of drama are the path to freedom — breathe deeply, face the truth.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I’m trying to seek approval
    • Published: November 6, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/06/im-trying-to-seek-approval/
    • Summary: A confessional poem about how the author’s absent, neglectful father created a trauma bond that drives compulsive approval-seeking in adulthood. He acknowledges this is common and names John Bowlby’s attachment theory as the psychological framework behind it.

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG  (RSP addressed in context)

  1. However, it may lead I will always find my faith
    • Published: November 8, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/08/however-it-may-lead-i-will-always-find-my-faith/
    • Summary: A poem to RSP — DCG tells her he knows she is feeling angry and resigned, and that her coping strategy of avoidance will not bring her peace. His heart breaks watching her struggle but he will always find his faith wherever the path leads.
    • Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG
  1. Scar tissue
    • Published: November 8, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/08/scar-tissue/
    • Summary: A poem of patient, faithful waiting — the author waits “beneath the weight of hollow years,” burning with prayer and tracing the path forward through scar tissue. Even if the way is lined with dread, he will walk it until it leads to her.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The quiet between them
    • Published: November 9, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/09/the-quiet-between-them/
    • Summary: A short story/prose poem about Adrian (DCG) and a woman with avoidant attachment who goes silent for days. He finally types a message — “Thinking of you. Hope you’re okay” — then erases it. He closes his eyes and wishes he could love without fear, like the wind.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Yet here I stand
    • Published: November 10, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/10/yet-here-i-stand/
    • Summary: A poem of steadfast love — DCG sees RSP’s walls built from pain, recognizes that silence is the language trauma taught her heart, and yet here he stands as a patient guide. He promises to stay through the winters, as long as it takes.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. A walking contradiction
    • Published: November 18, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/18/a-walking-contradiction/
    • Summary: A poem that confronts the confusing, sometimes hurtful messages RSP sends. DCG empathizes with her self-protection but challenges her to self-reflect as well as self-protect — warning that without facing her fear head-on, decay follows.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The parable of the gentle bridge
    • Published: November 22, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/11/22/the-parable-of-the-gentle-bridge/
    • Summary: A parable about a bridge maker (DCG) who builds bridges for divided souls, including a woman who lives behind glass (RSP). The bridge stands not as a demand but as a possibility — open to her courage, guarded by his quiet strength, never forsaking his post.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. This is the song that I sing
    • Published: December 17, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/12/17/this-is-the-song-that-i-sing/
    • Summary: A lyrical poem about a wounded heart recognizing familiarity in another wounded heart — RSP. The author says she places walls around her emotions, but that wounded hearts seek familiarity, and she has touched his heart so tenderly — this is the song that I sing.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. R and D
    • Published: December 22, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/12/22/r-and-d/
    • Summary: A narrative poem explicitly about R (RSP) and D (DCG) — two people with trauma-shaped attachment styles (avoidant and anxious) finding their way toward each other. With steady therapeutic guides and honest conversation, they may learn a bond where both can finally be free.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The quiet charity of loving
    • Published: December 28, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/12/28/the-quiet-charity-of-loving/
    • Summary: A poem about love as an act of charity — given without guarantee of return. Each wound refines what faith began; love unspent is not in vain; unanswered hearts abide as proof that goodness lingers. Even if RSP never spoke his name, DCG is grateful for the sound.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Forgive and let go of the past
    • Published: December 31, 2025
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2025/12/31/forgive-and-let-go-of-the-past/
    • Summary: A year-end reflection on rumination and the push-pull of love — she loves me, she loves me not. DCG thinks of RSP and the times that make him hesitate, ultimately counseling himself and her to show the soft underbelly and forgive the past.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. It resonates as we
    • Published: January 23, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/01/23/it-resonates-as-we/
    • Summary: A vow poem — the author makes a pledge, says a prayer, and bares his soul, hoping he and RSP can live side by side. He has reached an awareness that a healthy relationship requires boundaries with clout, and is clear-eyed about what both of them need.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. You walked in
    • Published: January 25, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/01/25/you-walked-in/
    • Summary: A poem about the transformative moment RSP walked into his life — she made the room feel wide and listened like it mattered. Even if she doesn’t stay, the craft he learned in loving her will frame the way he loves others; her impact altered how he sees the world.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. I want you to know
    • Published: January 30, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/01/30/i-want-you-to-know/
    • Summary: A tender, reassuring poem in which DCG tells RSP: if you need space, I’ll give you grace; if you need to decompress, I won’t hesitate. He is patient and certain that what they have can work.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. And so you run
    • Published: February 1, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/02/01/and-so-you-run/
    • Summary: A poem confronting RSP’s pattern of running away — the author says her behavior has consequences, that silence brings clarity, and that deep inside her something still pleads for connection. He hasn’t given up, but notes she is “emotionally autistic” due to childhood wounds.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. The echo of your retreat
    • Published: February 4, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/02/04/the-echo-of-your-retreat/
    • Summary: A deeply introspective poem in which DCG wakes inside the echo of RSP’s silence and builds hope inside her distance. Ultimately he turns inward — the cycle breaks where he begins; forgiving what he cannot heal; steadying his pulse with honest will.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Exit stage left
    • Published: February 16, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/02/16/exit-stage-left/
    • Summary: Written in screenplay format — a dramatic interior scene of D writing unsent letters by candlelight, a cross on the wall, rain on the window. It’s a theatrical rendering of the inner life of the author after RSP withdraws — a stage play of emotional farewell.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. A heart’s whisper
    • Published: March 4, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/03/04/a-hearts-whisper/
    • Summary: A prayer poem subtitled “And so I pray (for RSP).” DCG prays for RSP’s healing and freedom, says if God answers let it be her freed from shame, and if their paths entwine, let it be two warriors laying down the fight — not rescue, just two broken people healing together.

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG  (RSP explicitly named in prayer)

  1. In the shadowed dance
    • Published: April 19, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/04/19/in-the-shadowed-dance/
    • Summary: A poem in which R and D dance through Proverbs-inspired imagery — R (dismissive-avoidant) and D (anxious-attached) navigating fear, armor, and vulnerability. Their entwined styles soften through grace, empathy, and forgiveness — RSP in prayer’s hold.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. When solemnity meets absurdity
    • Published: May 20, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/20/when-solemnity-meets-absurdity/
    • Summary: A comedic-philosophical poem about the absurdity of the human condition — praying for wisdom then fighting a parking ticket, telling the mirror to be sincere. Ultimately: the solemn and the strange must meet, and hope still waits around the bend even for bruised, muddy-footed souls.

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG 

  1. The case of Dane
    • Published: May 21, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/21/the-case-of-dane/
    • Summary: A third-person poem about “Dane” — DCG’s alter ego — a boy who held a guitar like morning light and grew into a man carrying childhood questions. The poem traces his philosophical, musical, and emotional journey, asking: is God the answer or just the voice still calling Dane home?

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG 

  1. I forgot the world was singing
    • Published: May 22, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/22/i-forgot-the-world-was-singing/
    • Summary: A poem about being lost in worry and “walking half asleep” until the morning calls him back. A friend reminds him the day is still warm, they talk about hopes and small endeavors, and in the present moment — sunlit skin and sea — he promises the world: I see you now.

• Closing Signoff:  … DCG 

  1. The dissolution of entropy
    • Published: May 25, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/25/the-dissolution-of-entropy/
    • Summary: A meta-analytical post reviewing the entire RSP/DCG relationship arc across the last two years of the blog. It documents how DCG began with hope that RSP would heal with him, and how the writing gradually discovered he must also heal from the story he built around her.

• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG 

  1. Cliff notes from the heart
    • Published: May 27, 2026
    • URL: thundergodblog.com/2026/05/27/cliff-notes-from-the-heart/
    • Summary: A poem of honest reckoning — DCG built a chapel out of hope, used his prayers to arrange what her silence would not say. Now he faces the truth: love that saves another must not teach him how to lose. He is ready to say goodbye if she cannot reach for lif• Closing Signoff:  RSP … DCG

📊 Summary Statistics

Note on “RSP”: Based on the June 27, 2025 post “It’s your spirit that’s longing to suffer no more,” which is dedicated ”— for Robyn —”, RSP is a woman named Robyn (last name initials S.P.) with whom DCG (Dean Christian Gunnersen) developed a deep, unrequited or unresolved romantic connection characterized by anxious-attachment (DCG) and dismissive-avoidant attachment (RSP) patterns. The  RSP … DCG  signoff appears throughout as both a dedication to her and a co-signature — two initials, two people, one story.

RSP

…

DCG

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The case of Dane 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

In third grade, Dane held a guitar like morning light,
And sang old mountains through a classroom door.
A boy with questions hidden out of sight,
Already felt the world was asking more.
He watched the grown-ups smile through private rain,
And learned that silence had a human face.
He named no wound, but carried half its pain,
Then offered others tenderness and space.
Teenage years came dressed in doubt and fire,
With music keeping time beside his bed.
He chased approval, hunger, hope, desire,
And feared the words that people left unsaid.
He laughed too loud when loneliness drew near,
Then called it wisdom just to seem less weak.
But every joke concealed a sharper fear,
That love might leave the moment he would speak.
At school he studied why the heart defends,
Why reason bends when ego wants the throne.
He read of minds, of truth, of means and ends,
Yet found no book could save a man alone.
Philosophy gave names to restless nights,
Psychology gave mirrors to his scars.
He learned that pride can counterfeit as rights,
And wounded children steer adult-like cars.
In young adulthood, Dane mistook his ache
For proof that closeness must be tightly held.
He loved as though one absence meant a break,
And every pause became a sentence spelled.
An anxious thread ran burning through his chest,
While calmer voices told him not to chase.
He tried to hold what needed room to rest,
And saw his need reflected in her face.
Yet empathy would stop him at the line,
Where love becomes a cage with holy art.
He learned her freedom was not less than mine,
And mercy must protect another heart.
He worked, he failed, he stood, he fell again,
Paid bills, wrote poems, swallowed private shame.
He watched ambition masquerade as Zen,
Then saw humility outlive the game.
His strengths were not the absence of a flaw,
But how he turned to face what made him small.
He found that truth was not a perfect law,
But courage answering the inward call.
Later, with dimmer eyes and clearer sight,
He met the God he could not fit in thought.
Not thunder only, but a patient light,
That found him most when certainty was not.
The Bible did not end his need to know,
But taught his restless mind to kneel and breathe.
A seed must vanish somewhere dark to grow,
And peace may come through what we cannot seize.
So Dane still walks where old attachments stir,
Still flinches when affection feels delayed.
But names the fear before it speaks for her,
And lets compassion interrupt the blade.
He writes because the soul must testify,
That frailty is not failure, only clay.
He asks if meaning waits beyond the sky,
Or if it forms in how we live today.
And when the final page begins to bend,
Will Dane find home, or one more road to roam?
Is God the answer waiting at the end,
Or just the voice still calling Dane toward home?

…

DCG

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Amathia –the illusion of wisdom 

~ DC ~ Leave a comment

Some will defend

Some will condemn

The Socratic idea of amathia

The illusion of wisdom

The intellect becomes a weapon of self deception

Reason becomes distorted by ego and Will where truth is not the goal and becomes willful ignorance 

Some will defend with flame and light,
Others condemn, steeped in night.
The Socratic shadow casts its claim,
Amathia’s veil, a whispered name.
An illusion spun in wisdom’s dress,
Where knowing masks our deep duress.
The intellect, sharp-edged and keen,
A weapon forged, yet sight unseen.
Self-deception drapes the mind’s hall,
Reason falters, begins to crawl.
Ego’s throne mocks humble sight,
Will distorts the stolen light.
Truth recedes, a fading shore,
Not the quest, but something more.
We chase the thought as hunters do,
Blind to what’s glaring true.
In halls of logic, cold and vast,
The heart’s soft echo fades too fast.
Amathia, the ignorance crowned,
In wisdom’s court, a silent sound.
The mind’s own maze, a twisted path,
Where reason grapples aftermath.
We build our towers from fragile clay,
Dreams of knowing slip away.
Fractured souls in tangled threads,
Where certainty with doubt now wed.
The human mind, a fragile cage,
A paradox in endless page.
We yearn to see, yet fear the show,
What we don’t know, we claim as woe.
Insight’s flame both lights and blinds,
Echoing through ancient minds.
Complex webs of thought and pain,
Where wisdom wars within the brain.
No final truth, just endless spin,
A dance of shadow deep within.
Observe the frailty, the great unknown,
In every mind a seed is sown.
The journey not to win or lose,
But to embrace what we can’t choose.
For in the riddle, we find our place,
The beauty of this human race.
A mind that stumbles toward the light,
Embracing both the dark and bright.
Forever caught in reason’s gleam,
And Socrates’ eternal dream.

…

DCG

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