I’m Saying A lot Of Things I Shouldn’t Say

God never showed up. Now, I believe that he left long ago.

I have been taught that love, and trust are often illusions that few can maintain, and even fewer truly possess.

Ink is soothing to my soul. On paper, on skin, as art, ink is my oldest friend.

For my child who is living, I remain strong to build a life for you.

For my child who is dead, I live in anguish for a life I will never see you live.

I am finally learning how to take the bricks you threw at me and make them into a path beneath my feet.

My body is always at war with itself. Fighting illness and pain. I have learned to look the other way, unless it screams too loud to ignore.

I am not crazy. I am broken and afraid. Are you intelligent enough to see the difference?

Mental illness is not a joke. You pretend it is an annoying monkey throwing shit around. It is really a ravenous lion you are always trying to lock up.

I was a dog, always loyal, hoping for scraps of affection at your feet.

I am now a wolf. A fighter, beautiful, strong, relentless, wild, and not to be underestimated.

I am human therefore I will fail. But a fire inside of me smolders It never gives up. Therefor I will rise.

I have had enough drama, and I’ve carried enough pain. I am done.

I travel through movies, and books to worlds unlike our own to escape. Sometimes bourbon and music work too. Don’t judge me for escaping, because sometimes, so do you.

My heart is raw, and my brain is tired. My emotions are bleeding for all to see. I hate the attention. Can I hit delete? I post it because I know that there are people like me.

I can’t have more children, and I don’t really like them. But I felt so worthless and unloved when they ripped out my uterus, and you left me alone. I would have had more children for you, if I could have.

Everyone is undeniably messed up at some point in their life. But what you do with it makes you a coward, or a king. Or maybe you are just the jester. Enjoy wearing your stupid hat.

This woman takes the crown. I choose to be a King.

You Are Good Enough-What Loss Teaches You About Self Worth

When you loose someone the “good enough” question always comes up.

When you divorce-Was I a good enough spouse?

When you loose a child- Was I good enough parent?

When you loose a parent- Was I a good enough child?

When you loose a friend- Was I a good enough friend?

You get it.

Dear one, I want you to know that you were good enough. Were there mistakes? Probably. We are all human, and mistakes are a part of that. They are the jumping off point for growth. We need those mistakes to keep building who we are into someone better. But if you did the best you could, that is always good enough.

Asking yourself if you were good enough is a common question. But, getting past that question is a struggle that has to be worked through. Our minds will dwell on the loss, and the mistakes, and the questions. It’s a natural response.

Did you do your best? You were enough.

Did you try to fix your mistakes? You were enough.

Did you do all that you could? You were enough.

Did you grow as a person? You were enough

Today, I sit here writing, and exhausted. Last night I was made to feel like I was not enough. It kept me up at night, like it has so many nights before. Our self worth, value, and wholeness is brought into question when we experience a loss. We wonder what we should have done differently. We wonder if we will ever be enough. We wonder if we can be whole again.

The truth is, yes we can, but not without work. Telling yourself that you are enough isn’t going to change how you feel. Realizing that you couldn’t do any more that what you did, and accepting that is what changes us.

How do we accept that? How do we convince ourselves that we were enough? It’s not easy, but it is simple. We have to love ourselves right where we are. We have to see that we did make the effort, that we poured ourselves into the lives of others, and that we can keep growing.

I struggle everyday with this. My mind wants to go back, and dwell on all the things I did wrong. It wants to repeat my mistakes over and over in my mind until I feel like I was never enough, and never will be.

It’s a matter of knowing truth, and repeating it to yourself until you not only believe it, but feel it deep in your soul.

I did the best I could. I was enough. I am growing. I am whole.

Like a song on repeat, these words have to be said to you over and over and over until they become ingrained in who you are. Until they are something that you say without prompting. And, they have to be said by you.

Changing the feeling of not being good enough takes time, and work. But, dear one, it is so worth it. Because, you are worth it. You were good enough. You will be good enough, and you are good enough.

Don’t let the narrative that you play in your mind consume you into a deep hole of anxiety. Change your narrative. You can do this. Because, you are good enough.

Random Thoughts From My Unhealed Mind

It’s been a quiet month. Writing has been a frustration. The only thing I have managed to jot down are the random thoughts that fly through my brain at the most inopportune times. Some are dark, some depressed or angry, and some are just desperate. What follows are things I never expected to share with anyone. But, then I realized, it’s possible that these thoughts are exactly what I needed to share. Because, maybe you have thoughts like this too.

I never have enough time to work through the pain. I stay stuck in the confusion of once being so loved, and now never being enough.

I can’t get you out of my head today. What you told me. What happened to you. I don’t know how to deal with it. I want to love you. I want to hate you for not telling me. I want…..something

My days are long. Or maybe my nights are just short. Either way, I work a lot, and sleep very little.

I hate that when I look at you I still see the man I loved. It would be so much gentler on my heart if I could see you for who you have become.

There is more than one kind of death. There is physical death. It is devastating, and sometimes sudden, and almost always tragic. But then there is death of love, death of belief, death of hope. Death is haunting no matter what capacity it is in.

God is an asshole, dependent on people’s pain. And you are his spitting image.

I used to love you. That feels so far away now. My heart is more robotic, and my head is more direct. But the facts are still the same. I used to love you.

He asked me why I’m so mean to myself. I told him “Because that is how you’ve taught me to be.”

Some days my heart just breaks under the weight of all the pain. You would think there would be nothing left to break, but there is.

Somebody love me. I feel unlovable. He taught me I was, and you can’t un-teach the broken, can you? Don’t they have to be put back together, and made whole again to be taught how to love? And, my shattered heart was broken into so many pieces that it turned to dust, and blew away in the storm that is my life.

I have to go back for the lost pieces of myself.

Losing ones shit accomplishes nothing. But, I feel better now.

All at once she remembered how to turn her emotions off, and become the bitch he had made her out to be.

My life is so different now, and I can’t seem to get it to stay still long enough to get a grip.

My mind is a mesh of thoughts that always want to implode.

When Mother’s Day Is Hard, I See You

Mother’s Day sucks. I know I can’t be the only one to feel this way. I’ve know many other people who feel the same. It’s painful and crushing, and can be so hard to get through.

I struggled to get pregnant. It was several years of thinking that it would never happen, and feeling that pain when Mother’s Day came around, and I wasn’t a mother. It was staying in my seat when they asked the mothers to stand up in church. It was going home, and crying instead of out to eat. It was gifts never gotten, and it was flowers never received.

After I did have my daughter it was several more years of trying to get pregnant again. When I finally did, I miscarried. After that I never got pregnant again. We tried. We tracked. We used fertility drugs. We prayed. We ate better, walked more, rested more. It never happened.

Then three years ago my doctor said that it was time to stop, and do a hysterectomy. He thought I had cancer. So I did it. I sealed my fate of ever carrying a baby again. Sadly it also played a part in pushing my marriage over the edge.

My ex husband hated Mother’s Day too. His mom died when he was 16. He hated going through the day without his Mom to see, and love on. I understood that. So he rarely celebrated Mother’s Day, and I didn’t protest.

This year will be my first Mother’s Day since my (step) son died. The last several years he has always asked me to come see him on Mother’s Day. I realized earlier today that this year he won’t be asking me. That this year there is only a crash site to go to. That I can’t talk to him, hug him, tell him that I love him.

I’ve been dreading this weekend for a while now. My daughter wants to go to church, and I will probably take her. But, I already know that the acknowledgement of Mothers is going to be hard for me. I know that not getting the text asking me to come see him will be hard for me.

I don’t really know how to deal with that. But, my daughter is looking forward to the day, so I will try to be happy for her. I adore her, and am so grateful to have her. But, having her in my life doesn’t stop the pain of not having my other children.

I wish I could write out a list of things you can do when Mother’s Day is hard. But really I have found that the only thing you can do is hibernate, and wait for it to be over.

So here is what I want to say. I see you, and I know you, and you will make it.

Dear one who doesn’t have their mom, I see you.

Dear one who no longer has their child/children, I know you.

Dear one who is in so much pain on this day, you will make it.

I see you.

I know you.

You will make it through.

Much love to you this weekend dear one.

Quiet Is How I Survive

Words are hard to find these days

I’ve been more quiet lately.

A friend tells me I seem tired all the time.

I am.

Another friend tells me I seem off

I am.

I spent the weekend at parties and it sucked the energy right out of me.

People wanted to talk. They had questions

So many people wanted to know how I’m doing…really.

There are no words. I crave the quiet. I walk with headphones in because I want to drown out the world.

I lay on my couch with the sound of every electronic muted as I work.

I cant handle the words that people say. And I can’t find my own.

I need the quiet because it is so loud in my mind. The words aren’t lacking there. They swirl around and beat me up. They remind me of the things I want to forget. They bring out the pain that I keep locked deep.

Keeping life quiet feels like control. I like to have everything around me controlled. Chaos doesn’t settle well with me. I plan everything I can, including space for spur of the moment things. I do this, because I want just one thing to be controlled by me in my life.

I go on play dates, and coffee dates, and to birthday parties, and family dinners and appointments. I do this because connection is essential. But it drains me.

It’s hard work for me to be around people and chaos and loud spaces. When I become overly drained the words stop. I can’t boot back up if my system doesn’t get some time to shut down.

I’m not lazy. Quiet doesn’t mean I don’t do things. I just take time to do them in silence when I can. And if I don’t get that time I become very…ummm…..unpleasant to be around.

But lately the quiet is a safe haven. It is refreshing and restorative. And it never lasts long enough.

I haven’t been sleeping much. It has provided me with extra time to think. But it’s also time to just be in the quiet.

Anxiety tries to overtake me, and I push back. But, it’s never far away.

I have been walking almost everyday. It gives me space to breathe, and be quiet.

I journal, but the words are random, and weak.

Quiet is how I survive.

I Changed My Life : You Can Too

As a married woman I took my husband’s opinion very seriously. I didn’t follow everything he wanted but I did try to look appealing, and pleasing to him. I often had red hair, wore dresses and skirts, started using more makeup, and swapped out my black clothes for color. I didn’t mind this most of the time. I enjoyed doing things that seemed to make me more attractive to him.

After our divorce I wanted to feel more attractive to myself. I got bangs- and it looks fierce. I dyed my hair black with added shades of purple and blue. I learned new ways to wear my make up. And I reverted back to a black and gray wardrobe, wearing mostly skinny jeans, t-shirts, and leather jackets. I started to feel comfortable in my own skin again.

There were other things too. I stopped spending my nights watching TV-it was his way of ignoring me. I started working harder. It wasn’t that I didn’t work hard before, but what was once a list of hobbies became my source of income. I have to support my daughter, and myself. I am determined to do it my way. To stay home with my daughter, as I have always done. In the last three years I have ran five businesses, and taken on some odd jobs like being a nanny and painting a house. Best of all, some of those jobs have been lifelong hopes made into reality.

I have also been able to minimize the amount of stuff in my home. My daughter has not enjoyed this part of the changes as much. But, I find so much freedom in it. I grew up in a full house. I have many siblings, and that means we had a lot of stuff. Over 14 years of marriage, we had accumulated a lot too. So when I really started to embrace minimalism it was a sigh of relief after years of finding our worth or being overwhelmed with all we had consumed. I am no where near as free of stuff as I would like to be, but taking only an hour to clean my house a day, having space in my home, and knowing that we have what we need but are not overwhelmed are steps in the direction I want to be going.

There are other areas that I haven’t changed as much in-but I’m working on it. One of the main things I’m working on is not letting myself be used. I’m the oldest of 10 children. I was attempting to be a submissive, obedient wife. I was active in the church for decades. I did what I could to serve others but never stopped to ask myself if that is what was best for me. I spent years upon years of my life reminding myself to keep my mouth shut, and do what is asked of me.

Not all churches/families/marriages are like this, but mine was. I learned to always say yes. I learned to put others first all the time no matter what consequences it held for me or my kids. That is still the behavior that follows me and challenges me to this day. I still have a hard time saying no. I, sometimes, still jump when I’m told too, and especially if it comes from specific people. But, I am growing, and learning.

I’ve also seen changes in my parenting. I used to follow the lead of my husband, and before you misunderstand me, He loves his kids, and was a great dad. But I wasn’t the best mom I could be. I always put my husbands wants first, and didn’t give the attention I should have to my kids. I didn’t choose him over them intentionally, but it happened. I really came to recognize this after we split up. I started seeing my son more often, going to lunch and movies with him. I tried to make it to every single sporting event. I am still not sure why I didn’t do this before, other than I was so wrapped up in being a good wife that I forgot how to be a present mom. I had also become my daughter’s caretaker instead of her mom. I did what as needed for her challenging health, but I stopped having fun with her. This is something that being single has allowed me more time for, and as we have faced hard things I have made more time to rest and play with her.

When life changes you can choose to stay stuck in the same cycles or you can adjust and improve. Sometimes you do both in cycles. So today, I am again evaluating what needs to change, what things I have in my life because I want them, and what things are a result of someone else’s influence.

To keep moving forward, you have to keep evaluating. Spend time learning about yourself, what you want, and how to accomplish it. Spend time reading, writing, and letting yourself absorb what you take in. That is how you bring about change.

Keep Fighting : Thoughts On Depression, and Loss

Photo by Sydney Sims on Unsplash

There is never a break in the heartache. Sometimes the pain just subsides. But it’s always there. Barely below the surface, and waiting for the protective layer that is starting to scab over to be ripped off again.

Words cut deep. They strike your soul, and rip it apart so that all the pain is exposed and bleeding red.

Life never lets me fully heal

Some people fare better than others. I am not one of those of those people. I catch my breath after a heart beating, and another one begins.

This life can be cruel to those with a fragile heart. And, while I am strong in every other area it is obvious that the inner me, the one that loves, and dreams, and never lets go, is the part of me destined to never be whole.

I never gave up. I saw who he was, and I still believed in him. Now, I see him being the man for her that he never was for me. I can’t keep thinking that he loved me when clearly he didn’t. He broke me. I loved alone, and I lose what I love. It always happens.

I’ve been trying to survive. Waiting, and hoping, but I never had a chance. I’m not okay, and I want to be broken. Being fixed just means I will be broken again. It always happens.

I lose what I love. My soul was intertwined with his, and now it is shattered.

I had a great love. I had a son. I knew who I was, and lived out my days serving in that capacity. Now my love has broken me, and is off healing another. My son is dead, and everything I thought I was has changed.

When your soul goes through the pain of being torn apart, and losing all you love, recovery is a long road. I’m not sure it every stops. You can keep walking it, and hope that in the end you get to somewhere beautiful. But, it is painful, and tragic, and the hardest thing you will ever do. You barely catch your breath, and you want the warmness of giving up. Sometimes laying wrapped in a blanket in the silence is appealing, and you just want to go there.

I am trying to figure out how to keep going. I have a daughter left that needs me, so I don’t have a choice. Becoming emotionally, and mentally strong is a choice. I could give up right where I’m at, and be comfortable in my pain. But, that doesn’t serve anyone well. So I keep going.

I get up in the morning, and I put on clothes. I eat breakfast. I take my meds. I clean my house, and make the meals, and work. I snuggle my daughter, and help her with school. I run my errands, and text my friends, and I do it all because this is living. I don’t always want to, but I always need to.

It may be just going through the motions, but that’s something. Going through the motions will get me to where I need to be. Not today, or this week, or even this month, but eventually.

I know, I will never be the same. Loss does that to a person. It changes them to the core. But, at least I’ll be a person. So many days I wish I could just be a robot. Get my stuff done. Not feel a thing, and have no issues speaking my truth, and sticking to my boundaries. But, that isn’t really living, now is it.

Depression, sadness, and an overwhelming need to be alone in the mess, it all hits me every day. It isn’t a stranger, it is close, and inside me. It is comfortable, and friendly, and it swallows me some days. I know it swallows you too. Find the little things that connect you to life. You will have battle scars. Things that you had to fight though to become who you want to be. You will hurt sometimes, and you will have to fight your way out of it again, and again, and again.

Keep fighting.