His embrace molds her silhouette
The intricate curvature of her body is met
Before he explore her body
Jigsaw piece by piece
He tease her senses with light strokes of touch
Tempting her erogenous zone
His touch alone
Feels like home
His whisper chill to the bone
As he tighten his grip
Biting her lip she arches
Piecing into his shadow
Embodiment of one
A soul’s union
Unites
Yesterday’s struggles give today clarity.
It’s crazy how I forget that I surround myself with some truly amazing people. Keep in mind that I am claustrophobic so it is a select few but damn, do they have great souls.!! It is disturbing that I have to have days like yesterday (Wednesday) to realize this but I am so thankful to be conscious of their greatness today.
Personally speaking, I can confidently say that I have never been friends with a large group of people. I am an extremely private person and require space; yes probably an abnormal amount but… I have found that most others are not like that, therefore, it becomes more of a hassle for me to maintain friendships. It has taken me the majority of my life to recognize this and learn how to set my boundaries so that others do not get offended or take my me-time personal.
The people who I am about to pay homage to not only respect my space and other boundaries but they also seem to know when it could become unhealthy for me to be alone. I enjoy my time alone and depending on what is going on within me, isolation is my go-to. These people notice my absence and for me, those are the people I need to keep close. Never do they accept my apologies because they check on me out of concern, not to remind me that I am a terrible friend. In fact, one of them that will be listed has been in and out of my life, most of my life, and we pick up without skipping a beat. As I type that I realize that is how all of my true friendships have been.
I’m not one to throw the term friend around loosely. I also do not think those I call friend should feel honored rather quite the opposite. Being of the unaffectionate type, I rarely express my admiration for my friends. I would like to think my actions speak for my lack of verbal expression but I am beginning to realize they may need to hear it. And they deserve too. I am not wired that way so it is a distant thought for me yet I am trying to be more … what’s the word? Oh, yeah…grateful for what I do have.
I am bringing this to the light because I have made a new guy friend (not toy). I have plenty of associates and even more enemies (many I don’t even know) but for me to gain a new friend, is out of the ordinary. We have been in the same circle for years now (see second paragraph) but it has only been in the recent month that we have really chatted it up. This has been an eye-opening 2 weeks in the sense of how much others really do not jive with my personality and how often I literally have to contort all of me for them to give me a chance.
It’s fuck’n with my livelihood but that doesn’t mean shit to the judgmental assholes. And that is what I am so utterly sick of…being fake to survive in a money hungry, ego-driven, insecure society – off that soap box…so…instead I have taken a step back to evaluate those that are there in my life and wow, they are the real MVP’s. I was meeting my new friend for lunch when I walked in his house and saw a mutual friend asleep on the couch. Immediately it took me back to my younger years and I realized exactly why my friends are my friends.
We have been there for each other when one of us were down, mentally or unemployed, without question, without doubt, without a time frame, without a hand out for reimbursement once they found their footing…without expectation.
Now that I have written that, there are two handfuls of people who I occasionally speak to (they have moved away or drifted) but the love remains. I’m not sure I should list names in fear I will forget someone but nope, I’m gonna do it. I’m going to list all of those who have been there for me throughout my life. Those who have accepted me and gave of themselves to me without expectation of something in return. Most of these folks do not even follow my blog or know about it but maybe one day they will stumble across it and see their name.
For those who consider themselves to have been there for me yet do not find their name listed, you were only doing for me because of what I could do for you. You are the people who I allowed to fade out of my life and when we run into each other, the whole interaction is fake! No apologies given or accepted. It is what it is.
This isn’t to say that this list of people and I haven’t had our fair share of rumbles but what it does say is that our friendship has overruled any selfish, intoxicated, hangry, premenstrual induced arguments. And there is also a pretty big chance we didn’t start off as friends but that’s how realness goes. We ward off the fake and test the trueness of others. We do not stoop to the levels of society by judging and following the crowd. We stand out from the crowd.
I ignorantly discredit my sister as my friend and even disregard her attempts to lift my spirits. I noticed I do so over the past week. When I have had difficult moments she offers a listening ear and then she uses encouraging words to try to help me get past the moment. In my head and even verbally I tell her thanks but you only say those things because you are my sister. When I complain about taking on this journey called life, alone, I make sure to say, I know you are here but….. I realized how terrible this is because her acceptance means more to me than anyone’s. My sister is my number one fan. She spoils my child, she is who has helped me when I’ve been suicidal, in rehab – all eight times, and still to this day she is my numero uno. How dare I exclude her from any list of thanks.!!!
Felicia, I love you more than I will ever be able to express. You have loved me even when I didn’t love myself. Although you have helped me finically this go-round, that isn’t what this thanks is about (because I am doing your chores as payment-lmao). It is about all of the times no one has been there and without asking you show up. It’s for the hand me down clothes, for me and the other girls in rehab. It’s for loving your niece unconditionally. It’s for saving (literally) me more times than you realize. Thank you for accepting me when I wasn’t at my best and threatening you with a rip stick (yikes) to your face. This post could get really long if I kept going with all you’ve done for me. I apologize from the bottom of my heart for saying and thinking that you’ve only done so because you are my sister and feel like you have too – that isn’t true at all. I know in my heart you do so out of love. Thank You Felicia Annabelle – I Love You!!
I’m in the mood to say some shit people don’t say. That usually makes for an interesting day. If you’re a man, avoid me (my bad fellas).
Hey y’all! I’m still here just not as active. Ever since Kid was eight, I believe, her father and I rotate weeks during summer break. She was 11 (2013) when she went to live with him as her custodial parent, giving me more free time than I knew what to do with.
With my sobriety date being 4-20-2015 those two years is a blur. From 2015-2017 I spent my days sleeping and my nights working as I adjusted to life as a mom without full custody. Hard doesn’t come close to describing such an adjustment. When I think about it, I have no clue what I did in my free time but if I’d have to guess it was absolutely nothing. When I picked up blogging mid-year 2017, I wondered why I hadn’t done so for years prior but oh how quickly I am reminded.
We are on week three of summer and week two with Kid. It isn’t that she requires a lot as much as it is me wanting everything to be perfect for when she needs something. I try to accommodate her every move by limiting her movement – if that makes any sense. Basically, she sits back and I cater to her. Not because of her but because of me.
I know many will say that me doing so only hinders her and I agree, buttttt… I am stopping!
I bet you thought I was gonna say, “she’s my only”!! Tricked ya!
All I want in life is for my child to be a kind, functional, impactful human being. All the rest, I could care less about. The reality of her being functional is for her to be able to do things independently and this includes feeding herself, managing chores, and maintaining her personal hygiene (mental and physical).
Each week she is with me she is learning to cook two meals. Her chores are a work in progress more so on my behalf than hers. She needs to tweak her attention to detail and then she will be fine with that aspect. This summer she will see my therapist alone and with me so we can overcome any obstacles that will restrict further growth and she has signed up for a membership at the gym right up to the road from where I live. Gasp! When she returns to school she will be a senior and with that comes a lot of preparation and responsibility. To avoid excuses we are mapping out the year as well as meeting deadlines for college applications and scholarship/funding requirements. We are making her a Senior/College mini binder with monthly calendars that require something for college to be taken care each month. The purpose of this is to calm any anxiety and also to not miss out on an opportunity because she “forgot”.
Alllll of that on top of her working, soccer training, and hanging with friends…shew!! And still…she impresses me. Her work ethic is legit, her attitude about readjusting [I shut down as a full-time mom because in my eyes someone else was fulfilling that role] isn’t bad at all and life seems to be falling in place.
**It’s important I own my part and I am working through that with my therapist and will write a post once I process it**
And as it falls into place, for what seems so natural to me and even her, ” my” time is once again limited but I will never complain about that.
I know it is important not to submerge ourselves in roles but there is only a short period of time that she will be fully reliant upon me (and her father) so I will soak up all the time I can have with her trying to continue preparing her for the real world but also realizing that I cannot be replaced so there is no need for me to step down.
Low self-esteem and lack of confidence show up in my everyday life and I am ready to tackle it head-on. I have never fully healed from the emotional and verbal abuse of my childhood and instead, I shut down. I have been learning to reflect my feeling through art but my low self-esteem hinders me from showing it and even worse, sharing it with the world.
❤❤❤
But with all of that said, the total number of visits to my site seem minuscule compared to what is brewing/being planted within myself. Like with everything come the downsides and that is me not being as active in reading the up to date news with each of you. I feel guilty that I have comments I have not responded to, YET…but I am also not allowing that guilt to consume me. It is important for me not to.
Please know that I think of each of you daily. I remember your encouraging words when I need a boost and I am grateful you still visit my posts although at the moment I show little to no support. Keep in mind I am cheering y’all on but now, I am also rooting for me. Thank you for helping build me up to this point. A point to where I will need strength to rip off the bandages and sit with things I’ve never understood. There is so much to come to life from this moment forward and I can only hope that you will continue on with me through my journey.
I am beginning to notice the closer I inch towards peace, the pain tries to pull me back.
The teen I became screams from within. She feels deep rejection when I shove her back down. I’ve not ever tried to hide her but she is only seen if I allow. She craves the attention of a boy. But that has gotten her nowhere. I love her yet must let her lie. And with her… my attraction to rejection must die.
I am not ashamed of her. I do not blame her. I want nothing more than for her to grow but…I must let her go. She tugs from within begging to roam free. But she doesn’t realize she was constructed out of necessity. No longer is she my priority. I seek the youngest of me.
She who was first in line. First to be criticized. Ostracized. Demoralized. Characterized and cast aside. It is her the layers protect. Finding and loving her is my life’s project. Hidden beneath the ashes of self-hate, guilt, shame, confusion, rejection…she wait. An innocence and forgiveness is all she has to offer for she knew no better.
I do not want to part with who I chose to become, without them, I’d never made it this far. I wish to respect and love all of me. Just because. If only others who have no choice but to be in my life (temporarily – one year count down began in February) could just lay them to rest, I can reach my best. But…what a shame. Belittling me to elevate yourself stands for nothing-surely no gain. It doesn’t work that way. A one-sided battle is being fought. I surrendered so long ago.
I can only imagine, that at my best, I pose a threat.
A woman awaits to emerge. She’s kind and gentle yet firm in her boundaries. She finds acceptance in peace. She refuses to play guilty or the victim role. She knows that who she is is enough. Her story is full mistakes that caused pain for her to share wisdom only experience can obtain. Accept her or walk away.
A healthy version of myself is someone I have not met. The great thing about her is that I place no limits nor do I have expectations set.
Her words
her ammo.
Pain
her battle.
Branding her
war’s cattle.
The depth of
wounds
sear her soul.
Armor so heavy,
slicing her
flesh.
Onlookers
smell
defeat
without
a second
glance.
A woman
forced
to war,
as society
cast stones.
Fatigue she wears
to honor
her
struggle.
She fight
to earn a spot.
To hold her space
in this
fucked up
place.
Today I have woke in a significantly better space. My sleep was a bit restless as I tossed and turned. An idea came to mind about creating a canvass and that idea kept me thinking about my own experience. Not an experience that I wanted to keep me awake, I will say that. One of being molested at the age of fourteen. I was a willing participant in the act but I can’t help but to think of how sick the 32 year old man was/is. Although I was willing how can a man for one minute believe that a fourteen year old knows what she is doing when it comes to sex and the activities that it involves. It is disturbing to say the least. Disturbing that I thought it was cool that a man of his age would want anything to do with a young teen and more disgusting that he did.
I’m not sure if I’ve ever disclosed this information but the weight of it felt extremely heavy last night and so, I decided if I hadn’t wrote about it, I would. The man is my step-uncles twin brother. Gross, right? I will not allow this to consume my thoughts today but I will tell y’all the idea I had. In the world of creative journaling, tabs are a big deal. Tabs? You ask. The tabs that stick out to make it easier to find a specific section, rather the tabs I reference are for decoration purposes.
These tabs can be made of sturdy cardstock, cardboard, fabric, anything you can staple to the side of the paper to make it easier to access a specific page. Well, for one reason or another, I thought it would a neat idea to have those who have been molested, willing or not, make a tab that represents the act they wish to forget. The tabs would be mailed to me and I will staple them to a thin canvass, creating a piece of art that collectively has been created from victims across the globe. Once the canvass is full, it could be auctioned off with 100% of the proceeds to victims of molestation. Let me know what you think of this idea. I will provide photos of what I mean when I say a tab, below.
This isn’t to distract from me as much as it is to get out of pity. Let me know what you think of the idea. If it so happens you experienced such acts more than once, make tabs for each occasion. The tabs do not have to be pretty. They can be torn, wrinkled, ink-stained, whatever your idea is, I support. If there is an interest, we can do this together. I’m sure I could scan an outline of a tab for those who would prefer there to be a guide. If you wanted to write your abusers initials on the tab, do so. My hope is that this will help with letting the act(s) go.
Revenge of Eve 