Anyone Still There?

*A note from the writer* I started this blog nearly ten years ago along with my stent as a freelance writer for a local publication here in my hometown; “The Evening Whirl”. My “career” as a blogger started out as something just for fun, but my journey as a writer began as therapy. When I was a fifteen years old and a freshman in high school my father dropped dead from a heart attack at the age of thirty-six. I had just spoken to him only hours earlier and he was ok. When I lost my daddy I lost a piece of me and I turned inward; I was sad. It wasn’t until my ninth grade English teacher told me that I needed to figure out how to channel all I was feeling into something worth while; he told me to write. And so I did, hence the start of my journey. That was well over nineteen years ago. For a long time I used writing as my tool to get my point across. Not to anyone in particular but just to let it out. And then I stopped! Literally just stopped, the last post on this blog is from December 2016; nearly two years ago. When I stopped writing I starting hurting myself, both in a physical and mental way. Instead of using my outlet in times of stress or crisis I began to hold everything in until I would explode. But not only that, I’d become so lost in myself and self pity that I lost myself (does that make sense? I hope it makes sense). My identity had changed hands, I was now a wife, a mother on a crusade for justice for her son, a friend, a daughter, an advocate for mental illness and  I forgot who I really was, who I was really born to be; a writer.

The title of this post is “Anyone Still There?” but really the question is rhetorical because I don’t care if one or one thousand people read this blog I’m not doing it for them, I’m doing it for me. However, if in the process the right pair of eyes should come in contact with this content know that you are not alone. I’m here with you. This is the first day of doing something again for the first time. Thank you for reading. ~B

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Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell

frida-11“leaving is not enough; you must
stay gone. train your heart
like a dog. change the locks
even on the house he’s never
visited. you lucky, lucky girl.
you have an apartment
just your size. a bathtub
full of tea. a heart the size
of Arizona, but not nearly
so arid. don’t wish away
your cracked past, your
crooked toes, your problems
are paper mache puppets
you made or bought because the vendor
at the market was so compelling you just
had to have them. you had to have him.
and you did. and now you pull down
the bridge between your houses.
you make him call before
he visits. you take a lover
for granted, you take
a lover who looks at you
like maybe you are magic. make
the first bottle you consume
in this place a relic. place it
on whatever altar you fashion
with a knife and five cranberries.
don’t lose too much weight.
stupid girls are always trying
to disappear as revenge. and you
are not stupid. you loved a man
with more hands than a parade
of beggars, and here you stand. heart
like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas.
heart leaking something so strong
they can smell it in the street.”

*I wanted to share this for many reasons. When dealing with relationships over any nature as women we tend to be thought of as the weaker, believing that no matter what we will always come back. This poem is the epitome of strength and it drips self worth! Be strong, Be Bold Be Beautiful!” ~B

Humpty Dumpty….

“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the king’s horses and all the king’s men
Couldn’t put Humpty together again”-Mother Goose

humpty-dumptyI remember learning this nursery rhyme as a child and thinking, “What a stupid poem! Why would Humpty Dumpty sit on a wall knowing he’s a damn egg and he could fall?” Today I still wonder this same thing but in completely different terms. Since the age of sixteen I have been a survivor of domestic violence, suffering mental, emotional and physical abuse at the hands of someone I loved. Now at the age of thirty-one I try my best to be conscious of the feelings I inflict on others. Careful not to subconsciously treat them as I was once treated. For anyone who has endured any kind of abuse [mental, emotional or physical] you understand how difficult it is to break the cycle. Once you break free from the chains that once held you captive all you want to do is run as far away as you possibly can and never look back. For some running away overshadows the healing process and you never quite heal; sure, the bruises fade and the bones mend but what about the damage that was done to your emotional self? Those are the wounds that require the most first aid.

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Open Wounds

“Until you heal the wounds of your past, you are to bleed. You can bandage the bleeding with food, with alcohol, with drugs, with work, with cigarettes, with sex; but eventually, it will all ooze through and stain your life. You must find the strength to open the wounds, stick your hands inside, pull out the core of the pain that is holding you in your past, the memories and make peace with them.” ~ Author Unknown