Few words often speak the loudest.

My hands shake, so does my heart. I can see in my head pictures of what happened like I watched it happen to myself. Everything goes foggy and muffled, there is nothing but me and the frightful memories. I hate that so many things remind me of what happened. I hate that I can't even say the name of what happened. Tears come, burning in my eyes along with the pain and shame. I start to hyperventilate, then wonder if I'm going to die from feeling all of this, wonder if maybe that wouldn't be so bad. I want to be held, but I don't want anyone to touch me. The thought of someone's hands on my skin makes me nauseous. I know what could have happened, but I also know what SHOULD have happened, and more than that I know what DID happen. And oh my soul, why can't I think of it or speak of it without trembling? For anyone who is reading this, does that ever go away? I want to shed the chains of what happened, I want to claim the words that have such control over me right now, and most of all I want to forget. I want to forget everything. My gosh I want to forget everything that ever happened.

Some famous author said that we come from the ocean. I don't believe that's true, but I do believe that there's a reason why we are so drawn to the tide - a reason why we have such a fascination with stories of pirates and vikings.  It's because they have lived the lives that something inside us aches to live. A life where all water returns to its source.

I can't seem to let go of this bitterness in my heart, eating me up inside. It's been a year today. I know we are both better apart, and right now, my biggest worry is sleep, but there are still times when I see your name on my phone, and remember how it all went wrong.

On Easter marked the one year anniversary of a huge turning point in my life. A turning point that was in the making for 20 years. And it's okay to remember that it was hard. I still remember the long nights crying in my room wondering what I would do without you. And I'm not saying that it doesn't make me feel sad when I think about how awful it was, but I think we are both more peaceful when we are apart. I'm sure those of you who follow my poetry are probably sick of seeing my poems about the same instance, but to be honest, as hard as it was, I don't want to forget. And poetry isn't about pleasing the crowd. It's about turning the tune of your soul into written words.

It's happening again.

I'm having some old memories from my childhood resurface, and I'm having trouble feeling...safe...and I'm thankful that I finally found someone who doesn't want me for what I can give Him, because I can't offer Him anything more than what He already has. But thousands of years ago, before I was born or my parents, or their parents, He gave up His son's life for me. He doesn't want to own me as property, He doesn't want to hurt me, or use me, everything I could offer, He already has. And yet, when I'm alone, I can feel His arms around me. Not to touch me, or take anything from me, just to hold me and let me know I'm safe in His embrace. 😌

All I want is to let him coax summer from my wintery lips.

Depression, anxiety, meniers disease, fibromyalgia, all words that seem to be fighting to overtake my life. So few things in my life are constant. Friends, family, comfort, safety, but those things have stayed with me for most of my life. I hate them and I love them, I hate how hard they make my life, but I love the ability and excuse to depend on something other than myself.

I want to start writing more poems with rhyming and the same canter etc, but I'm struggling to find motivation and inspiration. 😒

I feel like I can't even talk to her anymore. It's not her fault, I just wish I could be okay for her. I'm sorry, mama that I couldn't be normal and okay.

Here's a "shocking" surprise: I'm 21 and I've never been in a relationship. Yet another Valentine's day spent without an s/o. It's just rough watching all my friends/siblings getting engaged, and married, and having babies when I'm just the single friend who sits alone on Saturday nights. 😒

I don't always FEEL like He loves me. In fact, a good deal of the time, I FEEL like he doesn't. Life is long and hard, and I am a sinful woman. I sin, which makes me FEEL like I am further away from Christ, and that FEELING drives me to sin even more by doubting that He is with me at all. I am a loveless, depressed, angry, impatient, unkind, wicked, unfaithful, harsh, chaotic sinner, and I often FEEL like that makes me unacceptable to God. But I have this hope: That He didn't come to save perfect people. He came to save people like me. People who are lost, and broken, and angry and afraid. He didn't come to save my FEELINGS. FEELINGS are fleeting and deceiving. I can't trust them. But I can trust the one who promises to give me love that trumps my lovelessness, joy that conquers my depression, peace that washes away my anger, patience that overcomes my impatience, kindness that tears away my unkind heart, goodness that breaks apart my wickedness, faithfulness that covers my unfaithfulness, gentleness that soothes my harshness, and self-control that teaches me to do away with chaos. I can't trust my FEELINGS, but I can trust Him.

I've thought long and hard about posting this. It's been sitting in my Drafts folder for months, being edited and changed here and there while I decide if I'mbrave enough to share it. I've been too afraid to post this, but I knew that one day, I would have the courage to let other people read it, because I'm healing. It's slow and hard and painful, but I'm healing. I am. I'm doing it with my hands shaking, but I'm doing it, and my eyes are open.