Alright, these past few weeks have been kind of insane, but I don’t know that I’m ready to talk about it yet. I am going to tell you that I’m going to be in a Fashion Show for the first time tomorrow, one that promotes body positivity, and is a ‘fuck you’ to diet culture, anxiety, depression and I’m so excited to be a part of it. If you’re in Kingston message me for details. So what I’m going to talk about (rant on about) today is the residual effects of trauma and emotional abuse. Sometimes we don’t think much about the littler things that might come up as a result, and they can feel pretty…scary, and confusing. I often felt like there was something really wrong with me because of them, as if they are flaws. These are by no means all of them, just a few that have reeked havoc in my life. Continue reading “Bi-products of trauma.”
Bell Let’s Talk day has always pissed me off. Don’t get me wrong, I love that we are starting to be more open, but let me take the gloves off for a second and tell y’all what bothers me so much about it.
Continue reading “Let’s fucking talk.”
I spent my entire life feeling lonely, and yet I have never felt alone like this before. Continue reading “Insignificant”
Vulnerability is my theme of the week. Doing things that are scary, showing myself, being honest, letting myself connect wit people. I’ve been avoiding this post for a long time. I’ve been avoiding thinking about it, and feeling it, its a lot. Its complicated, its hard, and fucking terrifying. I have wrote and rewrote this many times, and am choosing the kindest angle possible, as my intentions are not to speak ill of anyone, or to hurt anyone. I want to be vulnerable and speak of something that’s been on my mind, to get it out in the open, and help those who have been through similar things. Before I start, I’ve been listening to a lot of Brene Brown talking about vulnerability. If you haven’t heard her ted talk or her podcast with opera look it up, damn it is full of amazing insights. She talks about being vulnerable and it being the killer of shame. That our culter holds so much shame that we won’t even talk about it, we avoid vulnerability, that we are all wounded and pretending to be fine. Connection starts with vulnerability. I try and live in this vulnerability zone, being brutally honest, pushing myself out of my comfort zone, and honestly it’s what has sparked most of my growth. All that aside, I’m going to talk a bit more about my family, my sister specifically. If you know her, imagine it’s someone entirely different. Don’t take this as anything negative against her, as always, I mean everything with love. I am so terrified to write this, I feel like it makes me an awful person, that I have no right to share it, that I have no right to feel it. Fuck it. Close this if you are in the business of taking it personally.
Continue reading “Fucking vulnerability”
Well kids, these past few weeks have been big ones, I apologize for the radio silence, I had so much going on I was just treading through it. I put far too much on my plate and no suprise got sick. I did put on a great show, have a wonderful dinner, and spent lots of time with some amazing friends.
So to summarize: it was my first Christmas after no contact with fam, last week at the cafe job, played a show, hosted my first Christmas dinner, and saw a bunch of friends that I love. Oh, and today’s (Dec 29- when I wrote most of this post) and that my abusive grandmother died.
First of all, I was blown away by the love and support you all poured out, thank you so much. Thanks for your continued reading and everlasting support. I hope you all are having a really nice holiday, surrounded by love. Continue reading “Christmas Update”
This fucking week. My god. It was one of those weeks where one thing happened after another after another and by the end I’m here like “Is this some kind of joke? How did this all happen in one week? Like what the actual fuck. Anyway, I dug up one of my old poetry journals from when I was a kid, and I thought I’d share some today. Give a bit of insight into my early mind, trauma, emotional abuse and pain. A lot of it is depressing, you can see how much pain I was in, even as a kid, so brace your beautiful selves.
This first one is called ‘Lost in the Roses’, it was actually part of my very first song I ever wrote, but the song grew and the words were edited out.
Continue reading “Poetry (from a 13 year old)”
There seems to be this misconception that you stand up to abuse, and everything’s fine after that. You know, you have this big break through, you stand up to your abusers, tell them you deserve better, and thats that. No one talks about the aftershock, honestly no one really talks about it at all. Its not something that is easily understood at all, and there are a lot of strong beliefs on the subject. You grow up being told that your family always have your back, you trust them implicitly, they’re our first heros. We are told that family is the most important thing, but what kinds of lines do we draw if they emotionally abuse us? Its hard to talk about, partially because I feel so vulnerable, scared, alone, but also because I at times feel like I can’t trust my own reality or memory. I worry that people will see me as a monster, when in reality, I just decided to stop letting myself be abused, and set new healthier boundaries for myself.
Fuck. This is a hard one. A risky one, and a long one. Life has been hard, all over the place. As you know, if you’ve been reading, I’m kind of going through a huge loss, a huge life event. (Revisit Involuntary Emotinal Abuse, if you need a reminder). I spoke up about something really hard, and though the post is done, my life is still messy. I feel like I have emotional whiplash some days, from the amount of stuff I’m feeling, how often I change moods, how deeply I feel it all. Some days are better than others, usually when I’m out and around people I feel better, but when I am home and alone it all hits me like a ton of bricks. My eating and sleeping has been all out of whack, which of course effects me emotionally. I am getting my period (yes, I’m being honest about that too, deal with it) which makes shit a lot worse. I feel awful today, and a bad day at work doesn’t help. I drank 2 glasses of wine as soon as I came in the door, thats how bad work was (someone shit on the floor, like….it was really bad). Some days, like today, I have this general overall feeling of not wanting to exist. Its a really strong, awful feeling that eats away at you from the inside out. I wish, today, that I’d just never been born, and think that that would have been easier, I wouldn’t have been such a burden on my family, I wouldn’t have been such a burden on my friends. I keep on fucking trucking, but man it is so exhausting to feel that for days at a time and have to pretend I’m fine, or just do everyday tasks feels like running a marathon.
Continue reading “Emotional Whiplash”
For as long as I can remember, I have had no idea who I am, and I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin. My style has changed for as long as remember, being influenced by those who I spend the most time with, or didn’t feel as good as. I have avoided clothes that I liked, because I didn’t that I was good enough to wear them. In my darker anorexic days I would wear lots of layers of clothes to hide myself, but even recently I would wear clothes that are loose, or that I could just disappear in, so that no one would notice me. If I hung around someone more materialistic I would do my makeup even when I didn’t want to, I would wear clothes they would wear. When I got into yoga I wore only ‘yogi’ or hippie ish clothes. There is nothing at all wrong with doing those things, but it just didn’t feel like me all the time. Its more than just clothes too, my whole sense of self changes, down to my hobbies. If you looked at my bedroom you’d see evidence of so many different interests, all over the map, some of which I actively am interested in, others that I haven’t really touched lately, its phase ran out. This ended up making me feel really unsure of myself, no sense of self is a symptom of Borderline Personality Disorder, we are often referred to as chamillions, and it can be really frustrating, and disheartening because you have this feeling like you’re….unbalanced or without roots. I’m not really sure how to describe the feeling honestly. I never really figured out who I was, what style I was, what I valued, what I wanted to spend my time doing. Partially because my grandmother picked out my clothes until I was way too old, but also because I never really felt safe to take time to figure out who ‘me’ was. Turns out, standing up to the emotional/psychological abuse was what I needed to start to create my own ‘safe space’ and start to allow myself to find out. Continue reading “Who I am(?)”
For as long as I can remember I have felt broken. Broken not only in how I sometimes function emotionally, but I have felt like my heart is broken beyond repair and it would never go back; Like when your parents told you not to make a silly face too long or it would get stuck that way. Continue reading “What if I’m Broken”