the (not so) pretty truth

* This post was written by me in 2013, but the original host site it was posted on does not exist anymore, so I am re-posting it here.

Fun fact, this post is how my husband found me, by reading these exact words and connecting to everything I had to say. 6 years married now, because of such a random twist of fate.

A lot has happened since writing this, including clarity that I was still very very mentally unwell. I was still living with and surrounded by my toxic family. I wasn’t in therapy. And I wasn’t being completely honest with myself yet. Nevertheless, I still want this to be out there as part of the beginning of my healing.

I am also disabling likes & comments. This just needs to be here, left alone.

Continue reading

one day, maybe i will fly

Sometimes its so hard for me to see beauty. I feel so blackened, so burnt. Pieces of my skin fall off, and I leave my ashy mark on every path I step foot on. The public bathrooms are my sanctuary; I lift my feet up above the door, and I curl up, and I wait to be alone. I don’t want this world to spin anymore. Why won’t it slow down? Why is everyone out to hurt me? I want to look around and see good people; to allow myself to believe that their smiles aren’t fake. I want to breathe in kindness, authenticity, loyalty. I want to see beauty in the eyes of these ugly people, whose shadows give their burdened hearts away. Continue reading

hi phil

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My skin still burns. The pain feels current, even though the waves of the abuse have long since washed away. Why do I still feel you? Why do I still see you? Your touch leaves a residue; a grime that I cannot scrub off. Your prescence is hiding in my closest, under my bed, next to me while I sleep. I feel your eyes on me when I stand naked in the shower, when I cry alone on the floor.

You are not gone yet. Continue reading

win or lose, mom?

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Look at me. Look me in the fucking eyes. I am here. I am human. I am equal to you.
Look at me.

Listen to the words coming out of my mouth. Or the silent thoughts. The grudges. The venom. The lies. The truths.
Listen to me, hear me. Continue reading

broken, healing

There are pieces of me strewn along the office floor. There are parts of me hiding in the drawers of the guest room. Pieces of me hiding under my bed, thrown into the closets, sleeping under my pillow. Each pile of things represents a different part of me, of my life. They are unorganized and unmindful. They are sad and mean. They are kind and empathetic. They are reaching out to be held. Continue reading

trigger

All it takes is a click
A flash
A voice
A smell

Passing someone that looks familiar
or passing the one that actually did it
or getting into a car with the same seats as before
or hearing a name

or seeing a coin fall out of a purse
or catching a hint of a specific cologne
or driving past a freeway exit

All it takes is a second
and the trigger sets
trickles down my spine
numbs my legs
buckles my knees
knocks out the breath
whitens my vision

All it takes is a question
and I am immobile
I dig my nails into my skin
because I no longer cut
because I no longer drink
because I no longer use
I shake
I curl up into fetal position
I run to hide in a secret space where the tears can fall in private
because no one can ever see me cry like that

All it takes is that one irrelevant moment
to load the gun
and boom
you have it next to your temple
roulette
will you live or will you die?

Not even sure anymore just how many there are
new ones pop up each day
some are dormant
some are fresh
some are fucking masters of manipulation

I’m sitting on your bed
surrounded by his weapons
and all I can say is nothing
because you would never understand
and I could never help you to
because I cannot talk about it
and so I sit
and I cry beneath my skin
and I silently beg for mercy
but you will never know
and you will never see it
and I suffer alone
Your fantasy
is my hell

one second
one word
once voice
one smell
one sight
one object
one touch
trigger pulled