Time has passed, and you’d think I’d be over it by now,
But I still blast music in the shower to drown the memories out.
Can’t stand to be clean, but I don’t want to be *****.
Healing’s been so slow, and I am in a hurry,
Trying to feel like a whole human being
Find the places on my body that you haven’t been.
This landscape’s all mountains to climb when I long for the valleys
Of hips, knees, and skin that don’t feel like dark alleys.
I wear these scars like armor, but they don’t protect me from myself
Try to box up your images and put them on a shelf.
I lay awake at night alone in the dark
With visions of the marks you left- your own kind of art.
Telling myself I wouldn’t wish it on my friends,
Thinking in the quiet spaces the name that I would give,
And it’s hard to think about how used and empty that I feel
When I remember your literal blades made of steal.
You could always take what you wanted
Knew how to override a “No” leaving me feeling haunted.
I don’t feel safe at night when I go to sleep
Because even when I was unconscious, you couldn’t keep your hands off of me.
I shudder to think what kind of man you think you are
You said everyone was out to get you as if you weren’t the one leaving marks.
I struggle to tell my story out of embarrassment and shame
Am I just a product of your own twisted game?
I’d like to think someday the nightmares will be few and far between,
And my body won’t feel so much like a crime scene.
Until that day comes I keep it all locked inside,
Trying to lay down my weapons because I’m tired of the fight

They say it is a silent killer
but I have never heard a din so loud as the chemicals consume my brain
the voices in my head screaming for more
coercing my conscience

"just one, wait, that wasn't enough, a little more.. just a little more"

over and over
the cycle repeats
again and again

My heart is racing
my body is numb
I exhale
all the hurt
all the haunting memories
gone

over and over
the cycle repeats
again and again

"just one, wait, that wasn't enough, a little more.. just a little more"

I lay a girl to rest in the flowers.
She sleeps softly in her meadow bed.
I stand by, Woman, strong.
I love her with all my heart
But I am glad I am not her.
Not anymore.
A snake slithers through the grass
His name is Death
And I am, at last, afraid of him.
When he strikes at my heel,
I crush his head.
All my force aided by
The blankets of comfort I wear around my shoulders-
Collected from my Dear Ones
And from the One above.

Suicidality fades,
Suplexed by love.
I loved myself with all the violence of a wrestler.
I threw my self-hatred on the ground;
Crushed the head of my snake.

Now-
Back straight
Head high
Hair curling around a sun bonnet
Skirt rippling out
Boots splashing in puddles
Music in ear and heart

I graduated at last
From barely surviving
To fully living.

sometimes I listen to my old favorite songs and I think
of how those words don’t echo in my heart anymore
how the chains we shared have formed my
feathered wings,
and now I breathe, I breathe the salt air
not where we started, but where I begin

I’ve been sad so long I’m afraid of what it means
When the world isn’t weighing down on me
Don’t know what to carry when it’s not heavy.
I’m skeptical when I’m happy,
Unsure of my identity when it’s easy,
Feel suspicious when I’m breathing freely.
Who am I when the sea isn’t tumultuous?
Lost when times are prosperous?
What do I do when I can’t trust this?
I’m uncomfortable with the blank spaces empty of mental illness.
Who am I when there’s no battle to be faced?
I feel hollow and out of place
Like I am made of clay that hasn’t quite taken shape.
I want to be someone when there’s no foe to vanquish
Have a meaning beyond my aguish.
I know there’s more to me than sickness,
But I feel no strength without my weakness.
How do I become the person I am meant to be?
How do I find myself when I am happy?

Recovery, Initially, is about knowing;  Knowing that change is necessary,
Accepting that your life is not where you want it to be,  About facing up to your fears and anxiety
Then taking the first step eventually… When you, and you alone, feel you are ready.

Recovery, Critically, demands pure honesty, requires the utmost integrity
Most Especially, when confronting your past traumas, your history
Though it may make you feel angry, sad and often times guilty
This process is key if you really want to move on, to change truly.    

Recovery, Truthfully, is far from easy,  It can be fraught with challenges, setbacks, difficulty.
It can hurt physically and even worse emotionally, Testing your will power to the extremity.
It takes great Strength, Courage and Bravery; Determination, Resilience, in the face of adversity

Recovery, Thankfully, need not be a lonely journey, Though you alone must take ultimate responsibility.
There are lots of supports out there happily; from good friends, family and in your community
Though it can be hard to ask for help, understandably…Let not pride undermine your recovery.

Recovery, Ultimately, is about getting where it is you want to be, about starting anew daily
About achieving realistic goals you have set regularly, Learning from the process; what worked successfully
Starting to believe in yourself gradually, Gaining an insight into what you are capable of ...potentially

Finally, Recovery is for all, a lifelong journey, Guarding against ambivalence, relapse, constantly.
Knowing that every day will, in reality,  pose real threats for you in your recovery
But every day also presents an opportunity… to engage with, enjoy, your life more fully.

Vancouver Bay, viewed out the front
window, as out the back door,
the snowcapped Olympics loom..
A beautiful ocean breeze  here
in Port Angeles.. and amazing
warmth,  in the sun.

Hours long visits with my Mother
yesterday and today.. and then us
finding a long lost cousin  on
ancestry .  com  when we get  back
to the house. Pictures of dad there
when he was young before the war.
Stories and memories  from Mom
about before  and after, everything
went bad.

And pictures, pictures, pictures
of before it went bad..

      but none after.

I feel the distance  of the memories
but not the pain. I hold Momma close
within the knowledge  that nothing
whatsoever  has a hold on me. Elaine
is serving meals and catering to
our mother in her Rainman-like
attempt, to keep all her pain at bay;

    She is flesh of my flesh..
    blood.. of my blood.
    There with me  from the beginning--

    amidst the horrors  far beyond
    a child's innocent vocabulary
    to describe.

Back home she opens up
ancestry . com again  as Harlan talks
about his adoption  and attempt at
reconnection with his blood family,
once he finds out who they are.  Few
even want to acknowledge his  existence.

   The distant cousin of ours
   wants to tell Elaine about Dad
  right after the war.

After she responds, I **** on her
leg and then wave another, directly her way.
She's trying  to keep from laughing
as she fakes throwing up.

   I **** on her one more time
   just to show her who's boss..

She's like a machine  in her need
to take care of Mom. We take pictures
when again,  back over there..
I keep messing the timer up
on my phone's camera,
I think Mom wants to be left alone.

I don't think Mom ever
wants to be left alone.

She straight-arms me when I try
to help her up from the table.
I step back,  
but don't take it personally.
Back on the couch..  she's
she's cranky now, because the
current New York times  arrived
with a tear. She opens up the
business section and I tell her
Warren Buffett is my new boss.
She's very pleased with his ownership
of our company, and then immerses
herself into her newspaper.

   Elaine says its time to go.

She will ask Elaine again tomorrow
morning if I was really here..  or
was it her imagination. I will show
her again tomorrow that I am very
real. There have been horrors  beyond
description. There are years and years
and years,  of my letting go.

Back at the house, I sit on the front
steps and stare out at the bay.
Victoria Island is beautiful.
The Olympic Mountains are breathtaking.
Time with Harlan and Elaine  as the
sun goes down. I wave a **** one more time,  
her way.. for good measure.  
She brings me Rocky Road ice cream  
because she remembers its my favorite.
I muster up one more **** her way
before heading off to bed.

She comments about my strength.

Back down in the guestroom,
you are on top of me--
your beautiful thighs  straddling my hips..
You've been working out, beautiful girl
that firm ***..  feeling so incredible
in my hands..
You ease your beautiful, warm wet
slowly..  down on to me
in your desire to  bring about
   for each of us..
   the most beautiful,  deep release.

You kiss me deeply,  as our bodies  writhe
in deep ******--
Beautiful ****,  to my chest
as I pulse the warmth  of my *****
deeply,   in to you..

"This is the death  of all death, beautiful girl"..
I whisper into your weary spirit
as your beautiful *****..  gushes deeply
all over my warm, pulsing  flesh.


..And suddenly  we are *******
in the warm,  pouring rain--

https://www.pornhub.com/view_lala-la-la-lala-la



       You are overcoming, beautiful girl.
                         ~xoxoxo~