Category: struggle

Thursday Straight Talk (a day early)

Tw: mention of abuse, suicide, and rape.

I have ptsd. This is not something that I tend to talk about often because it has a stigma attached. I get claustrophobic. I hyperventilate. I dissociate. I struggle with the urge to hide. I am an insomniac. I am a survivor. None of the things I have listed make me a bad person. Most are the result of trauma and of keeping myself so hypervigilant for so long. I see a doctor. I take meds. Some days are better than others. I have learned coping methods. I have learned to be aware of my triggers. No I am not a snowflake. No I don’t have to have a safe place. I don’t even know what a safe place is. I take life one day at a time. I have panic moments as so many people do. They are from knowing that real monsters exist in this world. Monsters that hide in human skin. I am not suicidal. I really don’t want to die. However on my bad days I find that I wish I had never been born. I struggle with telling my story. I spoke my truth. I was called a liar. I came forward with one piece… And was not believed. I only told one person, because I was a child. If a child tells you their pain… Believe them. For you may be the only one they tell. My journey has been long. I was so fractured that I had at one point nearly 13 separate “alters” I am down to two. I used to have nightmares nightly. I am down to on average twice a month. Struggling with this does not make me less. I have come an amazingly long way… From losing months of time to now I lose an hour rarely. I am healing.

This is not something that I expected to post, if I am honest. I am careful about letting this all be “known” because I have others in my life that I know are embarrassed when the topic comes up. I have no reason for embarrassment. I am not ashamed of who I am. But, I love them. So I hold my tongue sometimes. However, I have been thinking about it. Perhaps it is not the right thing to do. I think that perhaps sharing the struggle might be more helpful for others who are struggling. I don’t know if I will share the details, yet.

I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. The man who did it abused others. He served time for one, and only one, of his victims. He has never been to court for what he did to me.

I survived a gang rape. And I survived another rape.

I survived domestic violence, by more than one of my relationships. My current love is the first time I have not been physically abused by the man in my life.

I have been homeless. I have been without food. I learned how to survive in each of these cases.

I have done things that I was not proud of. Hasn’t everyone? So, if I have a bad day… I might post some depression memes on social media. My poetry may get a bit darker. My art angrier.

Still. I survive. I am always here ready to listen. I understand what survival costs. Some days are better than others. Today I did not sleep. My mind would not quiet. Today my mind was attacking me with my faults in litany. Tomorrow may be better.

I know that this is published on Wednesday. I will post the art for Wednesday a day late because I think that this is important.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255, the Trevor Project at 1-866-488-7386 or text “HOME” to 741-741. Head here for a list of crisis centers around the world.

If you or a loved one is affected by sexual abuse or assault and need help, call the National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline at 1-800-656-4673 to be connected with a trained staff member from a sexual assault service provider in your area.

Writing Friday

Writing. Crap. What do I say? Do I sit here and try to explain that, at least for me, writing is something akin to breathing? That there’s never been a time when I didn’t need to put words together? And then I would have to tell you just how it feels to read what I wrote and think that I am not cut out for this. How many people who I know personally who are brilliant at this whole writing gig. Still… I would have to mention that the idea of stopping is actually painful. It has been how I was able to see the answers to life, since before I ever realized that there was a question.

Usually, I try to use the Friday post to give tips, and help with the whole writing and publishing thing. And I think that is great to keep the blog going… But today I was thinking about the reason why I write. Yeah… I could probably claim that I was trying to add beauty. But I don’t generally lie. My art is more how I do beauty. Abstract and pencil drawings to encourage happiness in the eye of the beholder. My children’s books are a way of connecting with my daughter, as they have thus far been stories I told her, or wrote for her. Serena’s stuff is stories that I want to read. But if I am honest with myself… My main writing is my poetry.

My poetry will never be hallmark stuff. My poetry is raw emotion and survival. I have lived a survivors life. My poetry is how I have been able to express myself even when my voice was stolen. I could write my story… Even though I was being told I lied. I could write it and it was accepted because it was poetry. It was written in a way that meant I was non-threatening to those who were part of hurting me. And it was written off as just an angsty teen writing depressing poetry… For don’t we all have that stage?

After I was free, and I was no longer needing verse to speak my truth, well it was still the easiest way to speak my pain. To spread my views. It was habit. I may never be able to sit along with the likes of Poe or Dickenson… But my words will remain. I will be there when another lost soul seeks to know that they are not alone.

Insomnia attacks

Since I am sleep deprived and have no spoons to spare… Here is some poetry to make up for the lack of a post.

Thankful Thursday

So, yesterday I had a fair few comments telling me that I had done well with this blog. I am grateful for all comments and interaction. Sometimes it feels like I am screaming into the void, unheard. So, it is nice to be told that I have been heard.

Today I feel that I have so much to be grateful for. I have the ability to do the stuff that I want, and still live my life. I struggle. I don’t have everything I could want. Still, I don’t have a bad life.

So I decided that today I will be thankful. Tell me what you are thankful for?

And because I was asked for a donate button… this is my paypal and you can sponsor me on Patreon.

Snafu

So I was supposed to update twice more yesterday and again today. Guess who has no internet, except for my phone. (Which is on the slow data atm) Yes, I normally do use my phone, but not my data plan. So when I get net back.. Probably later today… I will post all four posts! However as it is dealing with the Isp… I don’t know for sure that it will be so soon.

Tuesday tea party

So I realized this week I am overloading myself, again. Trying to do a weekly newsletter, a healthy weekday blog, a weekly patreon post, and still trying to both write and live life. Some weeks I can juggle it all. Others I think it may take double my allotment of spoons just to live. I plan on keeping up with the patreon. More or less with this blog. (Hiccups happen).. Life and writing don’t stop… But I think that I will be more realistic about the newsletter. I am moving it to a biweekly affair. That may be easier to keep up with it. I skipped last week unintentionally. I was just overwhelmed by all that I had to do.

To be honest I wonder how some people manage to juggle the huge amount of stuff that they accomplish.

Temporary Temporals

How fleeting life can be. A string of moments, all connected with something called a lifespan. I recently got news about a friend who is fighting cancer. It hit harder than I ever could have expected any news to hit. She is younger than me. And it feels damned unfair. Now mind you, as usual, she has it under control. She has always had it under control.

It seems like it is easy to react from outside of a situation with righteous indignation, and fear. Those two emotions cause us to fail to see the weight we put on the one inside with each question. Sometimes, it would be kinder to just be an ear.

It’s hard to be just an ear when we want to scream frustration. It will pass but what damage do you do to those around you as you fight to calm yourself down?

That is the stage I am in. I am fighting to remind myself that this too shall pass. It is not about me, and I have to learn how to be there for her. I have to not let my own fears come between me and supporting her. It is Damned Unfair, but life is not about what is fair. It is about learning, loving, and creating. So I wish for all of you…

May you love deeply,

May you learn happily,

And may you always

be able to create beauty!

Throwback Thursday

I don’t usually do pictures of my self here. I usually stick with my art and go…. But I feel like this is the best way of expressing my thoughts here. Each of them are pictures of me at the various stages of life. Picture #1 is child… I think that I was 2? Maybe 3. I had no thought of the future… It was all about living and playing. Picture #2 is my senior year. I made the jewelry I was wearing. I saw everything I wanted in life become impossible. I worked so hard just to find out that life was unfair. I didn’t see myself reaching 30…and I was beyond over caring. I couldn’t go to college. I couldn’t get custody of my son… Life was sucking, but I didn’t care because I could survive. I had friends and family. I was incredibly oblivious and it worked. Picture #3 I was in my early 30’s… I had a toddler. That is the best picture of that time in my life. I was out thousands of miles from home, stuck in what seemed the most foriegn land I would ever know. I had made it… Now what did I do. I was healing my mind and raising my girl. I think that I spent the next few years just asking myself what now. How does one plan for an age they never expected to reach? And when they do, how do you find that steady point? Picture #4…that is 4 years ago. My life is in chaos. That is the year I decided to start a blog. I published more, that is the year two of my kids books and another poetry volume was released. It was the beginning of another chapter in my weird story. I don’t want to put another picture here because I don’t feel like I am in another era for me. I am in my crone phase, and I think that I am rocking it. I am growing. Each day I learn.

When I started with the whole blog thing I was really green. Now I watch my following grow daily. I only hope it is because you are enjoying the content. Thank you for seeing me! Btw Friday will be prompts again and I am hoping to do the monthly links post on Saturday. I am just over 350 following. At 500 I will do a drawing for a hand written or unique drawing from me. Till tomorrow.

Ciúnas

Words have power… Sometimes more than we realize. Take the title of this post for an example. It is a Gaelic word for silence. Yet, when spoken silence is broken.

Too many times we speak with no regard for those who hear. We react to our own version of things. It is a flaw in how human beings are made. We are tender underneath. We react when we are in pain, and we are not always nice. I, myself, have been guilty of this. If I were honest, the only regrets I have in life were just that. Speaking from a place of my own pain, without consideration for who I may have hurt in the process.

This quote has been popping up in my life a lot lately. Though I don’t know who said it. It has made me think. Yes, I am crazy. The muddled mind of a half mad poet and all…. But I don’t try to be cruel. I make mistakes. I apologize. But I also try to learn. I am trying to practice ciunas. The silence. The pause.

Some days I need to practice it so I don’t hurt me. Your inner voice is just as easily able to harm as your outer voice can. Only there it just adds to the bleeding. I think that is the hard part… Silencing that damn inner voice.

I struggle with mine. I know that my friends see me as better than I see myself. I asked for a gift for my birthday this year. It will be in two weeks on the thirteenth. I asked for my friends and family to tell me what they liked about me and what irked them. I got five comments. One was a joke (I think, with the guy in question it may have been serious) about more “nekkid pics.” Two couldn’t think of an irksome quality. The other two… Well both of them said the only thing that irked them about me was my self doubt. Self doubt is one of any artist’s sharpest blades.

I think that I am going to try to pack mine in the back of the drawer. It is time to be the artist who I was meant to be. I will today tell the inner voice “Ciúnas! ” and I suggest that you do the same.

Poetry

Following poetry prompts on tumblr and I ran across a prompt… A visit to a grave. This resulted.