I’m in the mood to say some shit people don’t say. That usually makes for an interesting day. If you’re a man, avoid me (my bad fellas).
Thank you for doing for me what I haven’t found the strength to do for myself
I will get there though
And I’ll have you to thank for this day
I will sit with this sadness instead of wishing it away
Because you do mean something to me
What that is, I’m not so sure
I want for you to accept your situation and for you to escape it but you choose your prison and that is something I cannot change
Although feelings were forming, I never forgot who you are but that’s what is so beautiful about acceptance
It just is
Breaking free from the roles others have placed on you is scary
Believe me, I know
From warrior to Queen hasn’t come without it’s challenges
But once you taste its freedom, you can’t go back
You deserve peace from a life of pain but as bad as I want that for you, I cannot force something on you that you do not know exists
Where you live breeds evilness and its power is stronger than me
But one day, you’ll see
And when you do
I hope you know
Still here, just…
Hey y’all! I’m still here just not as active. Ever since Kid was eight, I believe, her father and I rotate weeks during summer break. She was 11 (2013) when she went to live with him as her custodial parent, giving me more free time than I knew what to do with.
With my sobriety date being 4-20-2015 those two years is a blur. From 2015-2017 I spent my days sleeping and my nights working as I adjusted to life as a mom without full custody. Hard doesn’t come close to describing such an adjustment. When I think about it, I have no clue what I did in my free time but if I’d have to guess it was absolutely nothing. When I picked up blogging mid-year 2017, I wondered why I hadn’t done so for years prior but oh how quickly I am reminded.
We are on week three of summer and week two with Kid. It isn’t that she requires a lot as much as it is me wanting everything to be perfect for when she needs something. I try to accommodate her every move by limiting her movement – if that makes any sense. Basically, she sits back and I cater to her. Not because of her but because of me.
I know many will say that me doing so only hinders her and I agree, buttttt… I am stopping!
I bet you thought I was gonna say, “she’s my only”!! Tricked ya!
All I want in life is for my child to be a kind, functional, impactful human being. All the rest, I could care less about. The reality of her being functional is for her to be able to do things independently and this includes feeding herself, managing chores, and maintaining her personal hygiene (mental and physical).
Each week she is with me she is learning to cook two meals. Her chores are a work in progress more so on my behalf than hers. She needs to tweak her attention to detail and then she will be fine with that aspect. This summer she will see my therapist alone and with me so we can overcome any obstacles that will restrict further growth and she has signed up for a membership at the gym right up to the road from where I live. Gasp! When she returns to school she will be a senior and with that comes a lot of preparation and responsibility. To avoid excuses we are mapping out the year as well as meeting deadlines for college applications and scholarship/funding requirements. We are making her a Senior/College mini binder with monthly calendars that require something for college to be taken care each month. The purpose of this is to calm any anxiety and also to not miss out on an opportunity because she “forgot”.
Alllll of that on top of her working, soccer training, and hanging with friends…shew!! And still…she impresses me. Her work ethic is legit, her attitude about readjusting [I shut down as a full-time mom because in my eyes someone else was fulfilling that role] isn’t bad at all and life seems to be falling in place.
**It’s important I own my part and I am working through that with my therapist and will write a post once I process it**
And as it falls into place, for what seems so natural to me and even her, ” my” time is once again limited but I will never complain about that.
I know it is important not to submerge ourselves in roles but there is only a short period of time that she will be fully reliant upon me (and her father) so I will soak up all the time I can have with her trying to continue preparing her for the real world but also realizing that I cannot be replaced so there is no need for me to step down.
Low self-esteem and lack of confidence show up in my everyday life and I am ready to tackle it head-on. I have never fully healed from the emotional and verbal abuse of my childhood and instead, I shut down. I have been learning to reflect my feeling through art but my low self-esteem hinders me from showing it and even worse, sharing it with the world.
But with all of that said, the total number of visits to my site seem minuscule compared to what is brewing/being planted within myself. Like with everything come the downsides and that is me not being as active in reading the up to date news with each of you. I feel guilty that I have comments I have not responded to, YET…but I am also not allowing that guilt to consume me. It is important for me not to.
Please know that I think of each of you daily. I remember your encouraging words when I need a boost and I am grateful you still visit my posts although at the moment I show little to no support. Keep in mind I am cheering y’all on but now, I am also rooting for me. Thank you for helping build me up to this point. A point to where I will need strength to rip off the bandages and sit with things I’ve never understood. There is so much to come to life from this moment forward and I can only hope that you will continue on with me through my journey.
I am beginning to notice the closer I inch towards peace, the pain tries to pull me back.
The teen I became screams from within. She feels deep rejection when I shove her back down. I’ve not ever tried to hide her but she is only seen if I allow. She craves the attention of a boy. But that has gotten her nowhere. I love her yet must let her lie. And with her… my attraction to rejection must die.
I am not ashamed of her. I do not blame her. I want nothing more than for her to grow but…I must let her go. She tugs from within begging to roam free. But she doesn’t realize she was constructed out of necessity. No longer is she my priority. I seek the youngest of me.
She who was first in line. First to be criticized. Ostracized. Demoralized. Characterized and cast aside. It is her the layers protect. Finding and loving her is my life’s project. Hidden beneath the ashes of self-hate, guilt, shame, confusion, rejection…she wait. An innocence and forgiveness is all she has to offer for she knew no better.
I do not want to part with who I chose to become, without them, I’d never made it this far. I wish to respect and love all of me. Just because. If only others who have no choice but to be in my life (temporarily – one year count down began in February) could just lay them to rest, I can reach my best. But…what a shame. Belittling me to elevate yourself stands for nothing-surely no gain. It doesn’t work that way. A one-sided battle is being fought. I surrendered so long ago.
I can only imagine, that at my best, I pose a threat.
A woman awaits to emerge. She’s kind and gentle yet firm in her boundaries. She finds acceptance in peace. She refuses to play guilty or the victim role. She knows that who she is is enough. Her story is full mistakes that caused pain for her to share wisdom only experience can obtain. Accept her or walk away.
A healthy version of myself is someone I have not met. The great thing about her is that I place no limits nor do I have expectations set.
The depth of
sear her soul.
Armor so heavy,
Fatigue she wears
to earn a spot.
To hold her space
Hold and cuddle them while you can.
Before you know it, it is you they cannot stand.
Wipe their noses and butts,
Help them out of ruts,
Watch as they drive you nuts!
Eyes that once glowed with pride
Go on to swollen and full of tears.
Before you know it, you question
“What happened to all those years?”
You do your best not to pass on your fears.
You give them room to grow.
But we aren’t taught how to cope when our daughter becomes a ho
Or our son an abusive asshole
Or a drug addict,
But, HEY! At least you get ONE day!
So to all the mothers out there…
Don’t think you are alone in a world of perfect moms because none of us have it figured out. All you can do is be the best version of yourself and if anyone wants to judge you for that, fuck them, wink back.
Today has started
Today I have woke in a significantly better space. My sleep was a bit restless as I tossed and turned. An idea came to mind about creating a canvass and that idea kept me thinking about my own experience. Not an experience that I wanted to keep me awake, I will say that. One of being molested at the age of fourteen. I was a willing participant in the act but I can’t help but to think of how sick the 32 year old man was/is. Although I was willing how can a man for one minute believe that a fourteen year old knows what she is doing when it comes to sex and the activities that it involves. It is disturbing to say the least. Disturbing that I thought it was cool that a man of his age would want anything to do with a young teen and more disgusting that he did.
I’m not sure if I’ve ever disclosed this information but the weight of it felt extremely heavy last night and so, I decided if I hadn’t wrote about it, I would. The man is my step-uncles twin brother. Gross, right? I will not allow this to consume my thoughts today but I will tell y’all the idea I had. In the world of creative journaling, tabs are a big deal. Tabs? You ask. The tabs that stick out to make it easier to find a specific section, rather the tabs I reference are for decoration purposes.
These tabs can be made of sturdy cardstock, cardboard, fabric, anything you can staple to the side of the paper to make it easier to access a specific page. Well, for one reason or another, I thought it would a neat idea to have those who have been molested, willing or not, make a tab that represents the act they wish to forget. The tabs would be mailed to me and I will staple them to a thin canvass, creating a piece of art that collectively has been created from victims across the globe. Once the canvass is full, it could be auctioned off with 100% of the proceeds to victims of molestation. Let me know what you think of this idea. I will provide photos of what I mean when I say a tab, below.
This isn’t to distract from me as much as it is to get out of pity. Let me know what you think of the idea. If it so happens you experienced such acts more than once, make tabs for each occasion. The tabs do not have to be pretty. They can be torn, wrinkled, ink-stained, whatever your idea is, I support. If there is an interest, we can do this together. I’m sure I could scan an outline of a tab for those who would prefer there to be a guide. If you wanted to write your abusers initials on the tab, do so. My hope is that this will help with letting the act(s) go.
**Post update: I will purchase a post office box soon and will publish a post with the address for those interested. This can be an anonymous participation. I will not attach any personal information to the piece of canvass related to the tabs.
I’m Not Well
That is the most honest statement I’ve written. I am not well. It is taking everything in me at the moment to type these words. What happened? Nothing specifically but enough to leave me in my bed going on a week now. This post won’t be full of frill or begging for sympathy. I am just curious if it is possible to write myself well.
What does that mean? I’m not sure but I do know I love my blog and this community. I apologize for not responding to any of the comments and I will get to that soon. Currently, my hands shake as I type and I want to close my laptop. I may. I may not. I don’t know what to say. I am learning that just because I do not want to be bipolar, does not make me not bipolar.
I’ve had a manic episode for approximately nine months now. That’s a long time to be up and my plan is to not be down that long. But here’s the catch. I don’t have a plan. Oh but wait! I am working on one. I see a new counselor on Monday. I am here, writing and I plan to touch base at least once a day. What I write is all dependant on how I feel. I will try to be social but at this point, no promises. I consume myself with others as a distraction from working on myself. I’ve said this for years but the reality of it has slapped me in the face. It hurts. I am hurting.
What does writing myself well mean? I don’t know but I am at the point I will try anything. Over the past two years, I have slowly come to understand that I am worthy of life. Even typing that confuses me because I have learned it but find it hard to believe 100%. Who determines…I have a million questions that will never be answered. I’m not hoing to waste anymore time on those. I want to be better.
I’ll admit there have been times when being sick was easier than putting in the work it takes to get well but that is not the case this go ’round. This time is different. What’s even harder for me to understand is the number of people who believe that being this way is a choice. Why on Earth would anyone choose to live this way? How is this my fault? How do I stop it? I’d rather not exist but instead, I have this and a life that I have been given. For what I have yet to discover. But I, like you, have a purpose.
I’m done with role play.
Either accept me
Or walk away.
I will no longer coddle
I am setting
Respecting this boundary
And if you take this personal,
That’s on you.
I hate to sound
Like a cold-hearted
No longer will I claim
Bipolar, alcoholic, introvert,
….I could go on
But instead, I
will move forward.
With or without you
that’s up to you.
I am just a girl
Who wants to
Believe in herself.
Today I was on the verge.
The verge of suicide.
I wrote my note.
I looked for the gun –
It wasn’t there.
I’ll never know.
It was the calmest I’ve been in a while and even I commented such, out loud.
My guardians, I called upon.
One by name.
A decision was made
No bother to reach out.
Attention is all that would stand to gain.
I sent my I Love You’s to the four that matter.
“None of this fuck’n matters“
Replays over and over in my head.
The realization that I’ve played a role, one assigned to me, is a harsh reality.
Why wouldn’t they give me a glamorous one?
There is no time for blame.
Ironically, those who ask
are the ones that aren’t ready to see their part in your shame.
Expectations to be a no-body carries a weight.
One that I must shake,
For my life is at stake.