9secondsago

[9secondsago]

I feel like my life is separated into clear cut sections of time and different versions of me live inside of each. It causes a lot of distress when those versions collide in my head and im forced to accept they are all the same person; me. There are versions Im deeply ashamed of. Versions I feel empathy for. Versions I dont recognize anymore. Compartmentalized versions of me that I dont want to accept. 

[9secondsago]

I went to a workshop on working with children that have experienced sexual trauma I work at a homeless shelter in Colorado now and work with a community that has gone through a significant amount of trauma  Ive worked with people in the middle of deep addictions to meth and heroin and victims of incest and abuse and sat with a woman with two black eyes and a cast in the middle of a very manic episode after being beaten by her partner.  ive had to call the police on a man that brought a gun into the shelter and taken crack pipes from people on the back porch ive done things I never thought I could do  but during that workshop I cried I couldn't stop it I could stand in front of a man high on meth screaming at me and calling me bitch and throwing things in front of the shelter but a seminar on how to properly speak to a child in the middle of being molested fucked me up how long will this affect me? will I ever be free?

[9secondsago]

I believe in mercy. The world is brutal and harsh, yet I won’t be.

I believe in forgiveness. Who am I to act like I’ve never asked for it? Let the cycle of bitterness end.

I believe in redemption. We turn our backs on each other, I refuse to turn my back to you.

I believe in hope. Through this despair, we thrive and endure. The universe marches on, and so will I.

I believe in kindness. Charity and goodwill are the seeds of growth, I’m going to watch my garden grow.

I believe in peace. War has taken too many lives, destroyed countless souls. I won’t let it devour yours.

“I Believe in Salvation” by Madeleine Rose.

[9secondsago]

if I could name days like we name stars  id create constellations out of all the days you made me feel like something beautiful could be seen in the dark

[9secondsago]

Im moving to the west coast in a couple months and honestly,  Im not sad or afraid For the first time since I left for college Im going to start completely new 

[9secondsago]

I dont know what I want from blogging again I know this is the most comfortable form of communicating my emotions I dont want to text anybody I dont want to draw or talk on the phone I just want to be here Unfortunately, this form of expression is also completely tied to you even now, years later, I feel like im writing a letter to you as if I should explain myself as if I should lead with all the unspoken thoughts Ive had about you over the years as if youre a ghost or dead and I come here to still feel connected to you like how I still check your likes and you still check mine and how important that tiny little connection is to me how I cant and dont want anymore but still feel so incredibly fucking excited seeing my likes in yours and seeing new things you find interesting  this isnt for you or to even to talk to you none of my problems or life has anything to do with you anymore and yet here i am typing to the omnipresent “you” because I dont know who else to talk to when Im this deep within myself because I never let anyone else see this part of me becuase it brings me comfort to think that one day you will read this I dont know why that would bring me comfort considering where we last left off i mean you didnt destroy me but god damn did I have a hard time getting over the mess we made we really made a huge fucking mess of our own lives of each other and sent shrapnel hurtling at so many people around us, so many people caught up in the chaos the chaos of keeping you alive keeping the apartment  keeping the police away keeping up appearances and keeping the show running so no one saw what it was like when alcohol wasnt making our eyes heavy and our thoughts too slow to hurt each other it feels like a dream when I think about it now our little messed up life together but of course, theres always the other side of it: i found the text you sent me at The End while i was looking through my notes and ill put an excerpt here: “Everyone who falls in love always says ‘oh ill never meet someone like them again” and that is so true with you. I feel a closeness with you that i have only ever felt with the stars. That may sound cliche and stupid but you know what that means coming from me. When i think of you...well, I dont really even think. I feel. Same with the stars. When I think about the stars, Its like my brain stops being able to work and something else takes over. I dont think about space, I feel it. It feels right. It just....is. and its the same with you. You arent michelle. You arent my best friend. you just...are. and we work. and we are right. its just a truth that i know deep down in my heart. we just are and always will be. there are two things i know. two things i feel. two things ill ever truly love” it makes me think of the long nights where id sit by your side and unwind the spool of tightly wound thread inside you see you unpack your heaviest thoughts and breathe a sigh of relief when I’d finally see the root of your tension from the day and we could work through it together I remember sketching you and me on the futon in hoey under those stupid fake stars from that cheap machine you bought online I remember sketching it because it meant so much to me you threw away the machine and I always wished you hadnt i liked that we always needed stars to really see each other but the point of this isnt to relive our good and bad times i spent a long time really sad about you and then really really angry and after a couple of more phases i think youre buried snugly in my past atleast deep enough in my past that i only talk to you in a blog format ive used since i was 17. but i still hope you are well and thriving  i think we were equal parts good and bad for each other and I know I wouldnt be who i am today without you and i hope you were also changed from meeting me it was a long and grismal journey but we both made it to the end intact I dont know how im going to format this blog without speaking to you but i guess i didnt really think I could live my life without speaking to you and ive learned to do that

[9secondsago]

Performative self-hatred is not the same thing as meaningful self-reflection

shit

[9secondsago]

How To Be Loved Part 1

To be seen is the greatest form of intimacy To be looked at without judgment or awe To be held within their open, soft gaze and realize for the first time in your life you’re not staring back in fear ____ I once saw love as watering down enough of me to let people swim unpoisoned in the cavernous pools lining my skin I once trickled out little bits of myself hoping it wouldnt leak from their ears to their open mouths I once saw my self as poisonous _____ This is my apology to myself for thinking that I was not enough when I wasn’t your version of me For thinking that you fracturing me into shards was making me sharper and more deadly more stronger than when I was whole _____ This is my apology to you for holding you on a pedestal that I didn’t have the strength to maintain and for caressing your demons tenderly when I should have helped you fight them off _____ This is the last time I want to cry over the scared young girl you shoved yourself into to escape the pain  as if our physical connection would transfer your pain into me as if you weren’t at least partially right the pain did transfer and doubled like a disease and now your patient zero for every person thats thrust pain at my feet and left with more scars than me _____ I thought you left my shattered but then I reached back within myself and started collecting the bandage scraps from every knife fight we ever had I started storing the little mantras and bits of good I could find and then mended the fractured pieces you left me in until they healed and then I went back deeper to places that hurt even more and I ripped those sloppy scars open until I could kiss each open gash tenderly and tell them  im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry he did that to you im sorry I did that to you im sorry i didnt let you heal properly and now I have to break you all over again im sorry some of these wounds are metaphors and some of them are real_____