Do you ever feel like nothing will ever change?
The depression, the anxiety,
Your way of living?
Sometimes I feel like I am not where I should be at twenty-five,
I do not make enough, I do not do enough, and have nothing to show for twenty-five years.
Will I always be this sad?
Will I ever be proud of the woman I have become?
Or am I doomed to live like this forever?
Never truly happy with myself.

I want to take a moment to apologize
For trying to make you bear the weight of my personal trauma.
At the time,
It seemed easier to blame you than to admit the cold hard truth of the situation.
This was something that would forever change me,
Yet I tried to change you as well
And that was not fair to you.
The weight was mine to bear alone.
I forgive you for not knowing how to deal with the situation or how to comfort me.
Only time could do that.
I apologize for demonizing you for not being able to handle it,
The trauma was too great for anyone to ever comprehend.
I apologize for saying awful, demeaning words because I was hurting emotionally,
What I said I can never take back.
But most of all,
I forgive you for leaving
I wish you nothing but the best this world has to offer.
~sdr

I don’t know why I ever started,
Maybe I was just trying to fill the empty void I felt inside.
Chasing the rush of happiness,
The sheer euphoria I craved.
The bad memories diminishing like a million shooting stars in the night sky,
Every thin white line making me forget the cold, hard truth.
I am an addict,
The person I swore to myself that I would never be.
I don’t know how to stop,
But the saddest part is I don’t want to.

As a child I was always the shyest in the room,
I never started conversation for fear of rejection.
Maybe it was because I never had a strong father figure growing up,
I strived to be perfect for everyone I met.
I carefully viewed those around me,
Taking in silent notes of the values, morals, and hobbies they held that were “popular”.
They had the best clothing?
I decided that I needed a whole new wardrobe.
If they traveled a lot, I wanted to travel just as much.
I took all of these things and “built” a better me.
One that I thought people would like.
Every morning I put on that mask for fear that nobody would like the real me,
But I’ve been wearing this mask for so long I cannot tell which is the real me from the imposter.
Which begs the question,
Who am I?

~sdr

I remember twirling around in circles, bare feet on the gray concrete floor of the one car garage.
The space filling with the thick smoke from your cigar drifting about, filling both our lungs with the poisonous chemicals.
My five year old self wearing a loose fitted Barbie dress,
“Daddy, look at me! I’m a Princess!” I shout with laughter, posing dramatically.
“Not now, the adults are talking!” You said sternly.
I cower away from you and go back to my childish dancing,
Oh, how badly I wanted your validation,
Your love and attention.
But I was a mere child,
Not worthy of your time.
Perhaps, that was how I learned to be silent,
To be submissive.
How I lost my voice,
But did I ever have one to begin with?
You stole my voice before I even found it.

~sdr

At one point I called you father, and meant it.
You were not my father by blood, simply by marriage.
I had longed for a father figure for as long as I could remember,
A man who would love and raise me as his own.
The good memories were brief snippets of happier times,
While the bad were vivid, distinct memories that lasted for what felt like hours.
A nightmare that I could never escape from,
They were engrained in my memory like the words to my favorite song.
I wish I could forget all the difficult memories and focus on the good times that we had together.
What little they were, anyways.
I wish I could forgive, the way my five year old self did,
Oh, the love and admiration she had for you.
Now all that was left was anger and a bitter resentment.
The anger and confusion that came with the abuse that you perpetuated.
I would never call you Father again, if I ever saw you
I would look at you in disgust and pity,
For you will never know true, selfless, love.
And for that, I feel sorry for you.

~sdr

The morning light shines through the blinds
My eyes squint shut trying to stop the pain.
Head pounding, throbbing, sharp pins and needles
Memory gone, complete darkness.
What happened last night?
I don't dare ask my friends for fear of what they might bring to light.
I remember the sips of tequila on my tongue,
I can still taste it.
Dancing all night long,
Then it's all black.
I cannot remember when I left the bar,
Or how I got home.
What I did in those few hours,
I cannot remember.
I look in the bathroom mirror and see a cut on my forehead.
How did that get there?
Sure, I had a long, painful relationship with alcohol in the past.
I was a lightweight learning her limits,
And some of my worst memories involved alcohol consumption.
I used alcohol as a coping mechanism but it only made my problems worse.
No matter how hard I tried,
I still could not figure out how I injured myself.
Tears rush down my face in frustration.
Drinking was no longer fun.
I was no longer proud of who I was.
The tequila taste in my mouth making me gag in disgust,
Disgust with myself.
No longer would I let alcohol continue to destroy my life.
Sobriety is hard but my memory and wellbeing is more important than being intoxicated.

~ sdr