The foundation isn’t going to crack. Maybe get a little weather-worn but paint will fix it up and we’ve got plenty of that in the form of laughter.
I don’t think anyone could have saved me. Not Jesus, not the warmth of a small child, not a favorite song or a cry from a friend, “How could you be so selfish?!”
How did they not see – how to we not see – that it isn’t about selfishness. It’s about escaping from a prison. You can’t tell me to hold on when absolutely nothing within me believes there is anything worth holding on for.
I hope that if nothing else, this post might serve as a motivator for people with backgrounds like mine to realize that self care – even at the cost of job performance, time, money and relationships – is very, very important.
We were not able to defend ourselves during the abuse. But we are not powerless. Our rage and despair is full of energy, is valid, deserves to be heard.
I’m after a chance of hope, the last sputter of light from a dying fire, wondering why you won’t send off a brighter spark for me.
Am I supposed to feel like a slut or is that just a natural side effect of the surreptitious consequences that come along with being a sexual abuse survivor? – See more at: http://femininecollective.com/mechanical-progress/#sthash.pAE31rP5.dpuf
If you’re unaware, there’s been a man in a tree in downtown Seattle for almost 24 hours now. My coworker encouraged me to write something about it (mostly in response to the ridiculous comments I heard everywhere yesterday). Here you go: A letter to my conservative mother, who’s freaked out that I’m in a […]