it floods my body in an instant, becoming a waterfall of red irony
dripping down my thighs
Not sure how i got here with my life popping out as bubbles in thin lines sliding down my ankle to the white tiles
piles of paper written-crimson ribbon tied to a gleaming release

If it is wrong after a child turns a certain age, then why is it ok in the first place
If it is wrong for the law to use on a criminal why is it right for a parent to use on a child, they say spare the rod spoil the child, I say spare the rod and spare the bad relationship with your children
I say spare the rod spare the decrease of grey matter in your Kids brain
I say spare the rod spare the higher chance of alcoholism as an adult

Parent should be associated with comfort not fear
discipline should be associated with correction not pain
and spare the rod spoil the child is *******
It’s is not eve a verse from the Bible

And yes I am biased mom because according to my sister you started physical punishment at the ripe old age of 6 months old and continued until I was almost thirteen

Ever since I can remember I have been afraid of you and I cannot come to believe that is my anxiety’s fault because all anxiety has some truth to it

I still remember when my little sister had temper tantrums you would send her to her room and spank her every hour until she stopped crying and I recently talked to her and she does not remember it her brain blocked it out
and yes it was not a deadly beating but it still hurt her, and that hurts me

And I do not blame you I do not blame me
I blame this messed up system of our government and religion that tells people it is ok to hit a child but not another adult because hitting an adult will send you to jail but hitting a child In the name of discipline is praised  
I have more to say, but I don’t have all day

Sometimes, I miss being sick.
I miss the way I didn’t fight the bad thoughts.
I miss the way anything that made me feel better, was a go.
Cutting, burning, starving, eating,
It was all fine with me, so long as no one else was doing it.
I miss the way being a hypocrite didn’t bother me.
I miss the way I was proud of my scars.
I miss the way I hated myself
Because it is so much work to not hate yourself, it's exhausting, infuriating, and overall terrifying.
If you have been sick for a long time you begin to become used to it, I know, it sounds horrible, and yes it is horrible, but I became used to being sick, in fact, I became so used to it that I didn’t remember being healthy, my sickness took over my reality, and I just stood there, quietly accepting it.
I used to count the things i could use to **** myself that were in a room, now I count the reasons to live,
I used to hide razors in my bedroom, Now I gear up the courage to shave my legs without cutting them
I used to hurt myself when I felt anything, Now I try so hard not to snap the rubber band around my wrist because I know even though the doctor said it is ok, it’s still a form of self harm.
I finally accepted that when I hurt myself. I hurt other people, and even though I am getting better for others, at least I am trying to get better

Recovering is not a ski lift sailing straight up the mountain,
it is a hike up and down
through tunnels and valleys
to try and reach the top
of a possibly never ending mountain.

I will beat you
Yes, I have relapsed and probably will again
But I will beat you
I will beat you into the ground so hard, that you will never think of afflicting an innocent twelve year old, like you did me
I am still fighting you
Its been two years, one year of me trying to get better
I wish I could take you on the mat
Beat the living daylights out of you
I should not crave pain
That is not a natural human impulse
But it is now mine
Because of you
If I feel any emotion
You whisper in my ear to _
That is not normal, I know it's not
How do I change it
I try so hard
But you, so often, try harder
I will beat you, _, if it is the last thing I ever do.