franzaneli

[franzaneli]

No one ever says,  “I made that mistake  because that’s something I’m really good at.”

It’s not usually our strengths that trip us up. “I’m so good at that, of course I fucked it up.”

We are still working on it, whatever it is. “I’m realizing every day, I’m not quite there yet.” 

We strive to do things differently, awkwardly.  “Forgive my struggles, my missteps.”

We droop and wilt along the way, as we grow. “I’m not quite there yet, but I’m getting there.” 

We stand a little taller every time we dip and fall. “I’ll try again so I can keep moving forward.” 

[franzaneli]

Abuse, simply, is holding someone else responsible for your happiness, whether it is holding their happiness hostage or destroying their happiness until and unless they ensure your happiness, whatever it demands.

[franzaneli]

Playthings

We are not playthings. We are not objects to be collected and assembled with intent concentration and then toppled with mirthless glee. We are not meant to be rescued by anyone, nor do we deserve to be tossed around at anyone’s whimsy. 

We are not relegated to be told what to do, where to stay, where to go, who to be with, who to leave, what we stand for, or where we fall. We have that choice, even when we do not take it. We must give others that choice, even when they do not acknowledge it.

[franzaneli]

a healer’s journey: I weep because I still have wounds and they still bleed

to heal means to expose and assess the wounds, to flood out the emotions and thoughts, immerse in them and yet not drown, to cauterize away the necrotic tissue, to find the clean edges and sew them together. 

pretending my wounds do not exist has not healed them, neither has parading them in broad daylight. numbing myself simply allows me to accept fresh wounds in silence, in ignorance, because I refuse to feel the pain, to heal. 

 others cannot heal me, they cannot see the depth of my wounds, they cannot understand my pain more than they can theirs;  they do not know where the sword will pierce, they do not know my wounds, they only know theirs.

when I acknowledge my wounds, I let them bleed, ooze, weep, and be less than picture perfect. slowly, my wounds heal, they form scars. 

perhaps one day I will no longer seek to heal others to escape my pain, because I will have healed, and know that their healing is not my journey, just as mine was not theirs. 

[franzaneli]

In Mantra Form:

She is the creator of her life.  Any persecution she perceives as facing can be reframed as challenges she can equip herself to face. It is not my responsibility to rescue her, nor is it my intent to persecute her. Rather, I can serve as both a coach and challenger to support her, providing positive encouragement as well as suggestions for change.  She is not obligated to take either. It is her choice. She is the creator of her life. I am the creator of my life. Any persecution I perceive as facing can be reframed as  challenges I can equip myself to face. It is not anyone’s responsibility to rescue me, nor is it anyone’s intent to persecute me. Rather, people around me can serve as coaches and challengers to support me, providing positive encouragement as well as suggestions for change. I am not obligated to take either. It is my choice. I am the creator of my life.

[franzaneli]

We tell ourselves lies to keep us happy. 

The lies, they seem so real, so within our grasp, we cannot allow them to be false, to be mistrue, and so we claim them to be our undeniable truth without room for any reality that threatens to expose our lies, even to ourselves. 

We cling to the lies because there is something so true, something we want so desperately underneath the lies. We believe the lies so unconditionally, so blindly because we wish they were reality, and that truth of what we want from these lies is the truest truth, no lie.

There is always truth within the lie if you look hard enough. 

If we expose the lies, face them bravely and squarely, see through them to see and isolate the true essence of what we are looking for, then we free ourselves and allow us the chance to make our reality reflect our inner truths, our true desires. We could finally stop settling for intangible delusions that keep us unsatisfied, with their enticing false promises. 

The more we isolate our truths and test reality against them, the more we will choose real experiences that fulfill our truths. The sum of our real experiences that fulfill our true desires could then bring us more real happiness without the fear and despair that accompany the fragility of any fantasy or delusion. 

[franzaneli]

They want me to be a court appointed proxy for them, to enforce the rules they are no longer able to, to collect the data they are no longer privy to.

[franzaneli]

We are bound to wound and scar others if we hug them to show our love while we still have embedded thorns from our past.  

[franzaneli]

I stood there with you and together, we hammered the last nail into my coffin. Once six feet under, I’d finally be mist in the air, so I brought flowers by the gallon and dirt, to cover all my mistakes past, to make sure my story would end at last.  

You promised me I’d never fear again, you would make sure of it, you’d stand guard over my dead body. You’d make sure I never came to life again, that I’d never die a second death. I applaud you for your care and concern, thank you very much, but I can take care of myself.

And though you vow to stand between me and darkness, you forget I’m already safe, I’ve died and found my escape, you are the one left alive, the one whose story remains unwritten, the one left to face the darkness alone, so save your strength.

When you join me in the afterlife, I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise much. I have no mind to live in the past, and your scars I cannot fully heal, even if you paid the price for my freedom, though you ransomed me and took my place.  

I promised you I’d be there for you if ever you gave up the strength to give in, and I will. We’ve all been bruised and trampled, and not everyone is put out of their misery just for standing up and speaking out; sometimes it gets worse.

And so if ever you die before your time, if ever your wounds cause you to bleed out beyond hope and you make it over to the other side, I won’t let them relegate you to the heap of cautionary tales, you will stay a survivor while you heal �� .   

[franzaneli]

When the illusion shattered and I stepped into my reality, a universe where failure was imminent and it seemed I was the failure, for the longest time, I couldn’t quite understand my experience - it felt like I was fighting, but I couldn’t tell who or what or which side I was on.

It felt like I was fighting for myself, but I had never felt so distant from myself, so unlike myself. For the first time, I was coming face to face with my own demons, my weaknesses, my insecurities, my anxieties - all the darkness I had hid before and never given a second thought to because I had everyone else’s light to shield me.

Other people’s approval will only go with you so far - eventually, when their insecurities and anxieties creep in and your failures threaten to become their failures, everyone takes back the light they lent you, some quietly, some openly.

And you are left with the fact that the light you thought was your essence was not yours truly, it was a luxury you borrowed, something you didn’t fight for, something that was made of fairy dust.

And so now when the dust settles and you see these unfamiliar, unwanted figures and shadows that claim to be your inheritance, you want to kill them with kindness, bury them in the light you knew before, tell them, you are not me and I am not you.

Yet, if you listen closely, your heartbeats are one and the same, these fragments you’d rather look past are the pieces that make up you and all the generations past; these are the mistakes they hurried past and haphazardly buried, hoping you would rise above.

These are the roots that are tangled around your feet from birth, that threaten to be your downfall if you run as if they were not there. These are the chains that to loose, you must first acknowledge they exist.

Perhaps you will learn to love what they never could and in doing so, break the curse that calls for love imperfect, love that is passed on with scales and measures and weights. 

[franzaneli]

I write to live. And I live to write. If I cannot leave to live, I am stagnant and have nothing to write about. If I cannot come back to write, I suffocate and have nothing to live for.

[franzaneli]

“I fought a battle, I fought a war, I felt the rain on my face.  Sometimes to find what you're looking for, you've gotta learn from your worst mistakes. 

I made a wish on a satellite that I mistook for a star, guess when you build up to break down, you find out who you really are.

How did it all get so heavy, I used to stand up so tall, there's only so much I can carry before I fall.

And they tell me "girl you're so lucky" - "you've got the world in your hands" but you know, the world gets so heavy, you don't understand. Sometimes I lay awake in bed at night, I close my eyes and all I see is see the dreams I used to dream about when I was younger. I wonder where I took the path of no return, I might've lost my way a hundred times but no, I never ever lost the hunger. 

Oh and I know every cut and every stitch and every scar, I know they've gotten me this far, they only made me tough, they made me stronger. But when it's hard to breathe and I just can't get off the floor, I long for days when I was free a life I lived so long before.”                                                                                 -Delta Goodrem