Much of the content may be a bit dark, but it is not necessarily in chronological order. There are no dates, because I don't think it matters if I wrote it 3 years ago or yesterday. I decided to write for me and I know most of the time I feel like writing is when I have something I need to process or work through; this is really my only place to come to and release.

I am not miserable, I am just healing.

and never enough.


Sometimes there is a drawback to being strong and independent and hard to rattle...

No one ever worries about me. It just seems normal to assume I have it all under control or that I will figure it out. It is easy to look at me and take for granted that I am doing just fine.

But I am not always confident. Sometimes I am lonely. Sometimes my bad day has worn me down more than I let the average person know. Even I need to have someone call and ask if I am okay when I mention things not going well. When you put off an air of competency and capability, of strength and fortitude, and of resilience and determination... when you smile despite the rain, no one knows that you break down sometimes too. No one thinks you could use encouragement or compassion or concern.

When you find a way to always be okay, it gets really hard to not feel lonely and forgotten when everyone around you assumes you are always okay.

I am always the one telling someone else that it will work out or be okay, trying to make them smile, or trying to help. But not a single soul that knows me, knows that today I feel confused, forgotten, and insecure. I am apparently infallible. If only it were true.
With pain comes wisdom, compassion, and tolerance...
and the opportunity for strength to overshadow fear.

~ a wise and sometimes scared younger me.

Some more heartbreak on paper

Kiss me like love
Hold me like need
Leave me to bleed
Take me now
Keep a piece
My heart on lease
Watch my tears
Admire my pain
Turn your cheek again
Plea indecision
Keep me at bay
Now push me away
Steal my soul
Tear it from me
Your second time trophy

~ a rollercoaster I finally stopped riding, but not before picking up a few scars.

Pieces of History


He's nothing anymore
There's lies and anger
Embedded in his soul
He tries to plant his seeds
In the fertile hearts of others
Like a thorny vine
Twisting, turning, and tunneling
Boaring into the flesh
Of those he is to care for
Extinguishing the light
Of warmth living in us
Replaced it with the heat of hatred
The man who knows no limits
Shreds hope and love
Disregards all faith and sincerity
And tramples all trust
Killing all life
Converts innocence to boiling blood
To fear, and to cries
Listen to the sound of his steps
Hear them in one form
The dreaded screams of a child

~ me, 15 years old.

But Anchors Do Sink...

I will not be broken.

It is etched into my skin just below my collar bone, on the same side as its duplicate which resides on my sister's collar bone. It is my mantra when all hell breaks loose, the tears fall, and the walls come down. It is what helps me get mad when being pissed is useful, and what helps me look passed whatever tragedy that my heart is trudging through at the time. I considered many different phrases and ways of going about this tattoo. I needed one that spoke for both my sister and I, despite our stories being a little different, yet the same. I needed one that put the power in our hands and made life something we were navigating, not something that was navigating us. 

For a while, we both liked the "I refuse to sink" tattoos with the anchor next to it, which can be found on feet, shoulders, arms, and ankles worldwide. It was cute and the phrase meant something. But we couldn't get over the fact that the whole point of an anchor is to sink, so the logic of the pairing bugged us a bit. Also, neither of us gravitate toward things that "everyone else" is doing or buying into. We dye our hair pink or blue because we want to, not because it is the cute thing the girls are doing. We pierce or tattoo things because we felt like it and couldn't give two shits who sees it or what they think about it. If we want to rock neon colors or dance in the grocery store or take our kids into the liquor store at 9am on a Sunday morning so we can have daiquiris with our french toast... well, we damn sure will. And getting tattoos that every 19 year old girl has just kind of speaks of something completely opposite of what we exist as. No offense to those who posses that tattoo; all that matters is that you got it with a truth to yourself in mind. My point is, it wouldn't have been true to us to pick something off the wall or google images and plaster it across our chests.

I also considered something along the lines of "I cannot be broken," but lets face it... I sure as hell can. She can. We both can. It is possible and maybe it has happened before, or maybe I just know what it feels like to come close. But, we sure as hell can be broken if we get hit hard enough in just the right spot. I have been in places in my life where I wasn't sure how I would ever move forward again... or move at all. Moments where I thought I couldn't possibly put the pieces back together, and if I did, there would be no way to do it so that I looked or felt anything like the girl I loved being. My sister and I, we get hit with a lot, all of the time. I needed something that spoke to our resilience and refusal to give up, not something that falsely proclaimed our immunity or invincibility.  In a way, that tattoo would have branded me as something I have fought to not become for my entire life. Implying I cannot be broken would be to imply that there is no pain, no hurt, no loss that could get to me. And the thought of being that person who does not connect, care, and feel the pain is terrifying. I do not want to be someone who "cannot be broken"...because if you cannot be shattered by anything, it is because you do not value anything enough to be destroyed if you lose it. I have many things I value that much, and I would never want my tattoo to imply otherwise.

So, I settled on "I will not be broken." Settled is the wrong word, as it sounds like I resigned to it because I was running out of options. That couldn't be further from the truth. I still had many options! I could have chosen "I like bananas" (this would be a truth, after-all). Or maybe I could have gone with "Animals > People"... or "Bite Here"... so many options. Now that I think about it, a "Bite Here" tattoo sounds kind of awesome. Don't judge me.

We went with "I will not be broken" because it puts the power in our hands. We will not allow it to happen. We cannot stop the things that threaten to crush us, but we can promise to keep going, keep trucking, and keep fighting. We can push when pushing is called for, and hold on when holding is needed. Life can throw everything and anything at us (but seriously, world, it's okay if you don't), and we may cry, get mad, and threaten to walk off into the sunset (that threat is all mine)... we may even be positive there is no way we can claw our way out of each hole we manage to get pushed into (and buried in, with cement, 30 feet down, in the winter, with spiders), but we will not let it break us. We will not give up. We are bad-asses. 

So, to my sister, who finds herself fighting more often than she ever deserved to have to, We. Will Not. Be. Broken.

As for her collar bone... that apparently doesn't fall under the "not broken" directive.