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Freedom From Narcissistic Abuse

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December 6, 2018December 6, 2018 Cherilyn Clough

Cookie Angel

November 21, 2018November 21, 2018 Cherilyn Clough

The Worst Thanksgiving Ever

August 18, 2018August 18, 2018 Cherilyn Clough

Journey From the Cave

July 23, 2018July 23, 2018 Cherilyn Clough

Why You Can’t Let the Narcissist Shut You Up

June 29, 2018June 29, 2018 Cherilyn Clough

Stop Telling Me I Can’t be Political and a Christian Too

June 7, 2018June 7, 2018 Cherilyn Clough

Don’t Let the Narcissist Accuse You of Living in the Past

June 3, 2018June 3, 2018 Cherilyn Clough

God as Our Mother

June 1, 2018June 1, 2018 Cherilyn Clough

If My Wounds Were Visible

May 18, 2018May 26, 2018 Cherilyn Clough

Narcissistic Feed

May 14, 2018May 14, 2018 Cherilyn Clough

Remembering the Good, Even When it’s Bad

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Welcome to Little Red Survivor Freedom From Narcissistic and Religious Abuse

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Cherilyn Clough

Cherilyn Clough is a Shanachie, Stargazer, Cat Whisperer and Survivor of Narcissistic Abuse. She’s writing a memoir because what happens in childhood, never stays in childhood.

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It’s Memoir Monday Friends, One of my first memories is of my father telling and reading stories to me as a toddler. This instilled a love of stories in my heart even before I could read. He read children’s books at bedtime, but when we camped, he always told stories around the campfire. Some came from books, but others were his own life stories. One of my favorite stories was a poem he recited titled, “The Cremation of Sam McGee,” by Robert Service. I had no idea what cremation meant and I knew the story wasn’t true, but it was the cadence of the poetry and the surprise ending that thrilled me no matter how many times I heard it. I’d almost memorized this poem by the time I was eight years old and met my paternal grandmother. I’ll never forget the surprise and thrill of sitting around the campfire one night to hear her repeat this story and others word for word with the same voice inflections my father used. He had learned this gift of animated storytelling from his mother and they both passed this on to me. I love stories. I love hearing them and telling them. When stories get passed down from generation to generation. they not only provide entertainment, but they remind us where we’ve come from and unite the generations with suspense and laughter, but sometimes telling our stories stirs up fear within the family. “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.” -Anne Lamont People can say what they want about your story, but no one else is an expert on your life and no one can tell your story the way you will. “If we own our stories, we can avoid being trapped as characters in the stories someone else is telling.” -Brené Brown Sharing good stories—whether through books or telling it to a live audience is one of the best gifts we can give each other. #seanachie #storyteller #memoir #writingmemoir #yourstorymatters #tellitslant #enjoythejourney #godstories #littleredsurvivor #bestgifts

In this time of history, when violence has reared its ugliness in corner after corner, and the earth seems cold with hardened hearts, we need the hope of advent more than ever and quibbling over whether Jesus was born in winter is irrelevant. What matters is Jesus was born into earth’s midwinter when the earth was covered in darkness and we most needed him to appear to bring us warmth and light. The earth was full of darkness when he came the first time and it’s dark right now as we wait for him again. Some people wonder if there are any safe places left as the world grows bleaker and bleaker. And sadly, some of the very people who claim to wear his name have turned a blind eye. “What can I give Him, poor as I am? If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb; If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part; Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart." Jesus was a refugee child, fleeing with his parents from a tyrant king who was murdering innocent children. History repeats itself, refugee children are still fleeing, what will we do? Perhaps Jesus said, “Whatever you do to the least of these, you have done to me,” for such a time as this. In this bleak midwinter, Hear the children weep, Crying for their parents, Wondering where to sleep. Pain inflicted, pain on pain, With nothing of their own If I could find you, Jesus, I would bring you home. #leastofthese #letthemcometome #refugeechildren #setthemfree #reunitewithparents #tyrantking #fakechristians #littleredsurvivor #callyourrepresentatives #wakeupchurch #jesusweeps #littlelordjesuscries

Hi Friends, It’s Freedom Friday! In this season where every one is seeking light, we pay little attention to the darkness, but even darkness leads us to freedom. If you think about it, you might even say the darkness is where things get baked. “...New life starts in the dark. Whether it is a seed in the ground, a baby in the womb, or Jesus in the tomb, it starts in the dark.” -Barbara Brown Taylor It’s hard to find ways to be grateful for the darkness of narcissistic abuse because it’s stolen so much from us—honesty, respect, affection, trust, family, peace of mind—the list goes on and on, but even this darkness—even the gag gift of a flying monkey or the false title of being called scapegoat are gifts to help us find our priorities. Narcissistic abuse has been a gift to me because it’s taught me how to live a better life and seek healthier relationships. Narcissistic abuse taught me to stand up for myself and find my boundaries. Narcissistic abuse taught me that I can never take honesty and respect for granted, but must cultivate them and require them in all my relationships. Narcissistic abuse taught me the value of empathy and kindness for myself and others. Narcissistic abuse taught me to refuse to accept rude behavior and seek people who love instead. Narcissistic abuse taught me pure religion doesn’t have an elite group that puts down any people, but ALL are God’s beloved. In short, narcissistic abuse woke me up to the ways I treat people and in response to such darkness, I’ve become a new person who loves better. So yes, narcissistic abuse in a family is a big ol’ crappy box of darkness and it’s broken my heart several times, but it’s also directed me to the light. There is a light that shines in the darkness which is only visible there. -Barbara Brown Taylor #freedomfriday #narcissist #narcissisticabuse #narcissism #survivor #gift #darkness #gratitude #giftofdarkness #lightinthedarkness #littleredsurvivor

Little Red Survivor ©2018 Cherilyn Clough

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