I was standing, uncomfortably, in a rubber corset. It was laced so tight that I was able to feel all 52 of the grommets which held the black ribbon across my back, dig into my ribs. Breathing was an event.
I don’t think my breasts had ever been so close to my chin. (more…)
“Your ads are annoying. I don’t know why you bother. It’s not like you are a real writer.”
All hail the mighty 2 am internet troll. The anonymous (or not so, you little ip leaver, you) nasty note leaving, bastard ass hiding deep under the bridge troll. The squirrely little shitface of a troll, the kind that hunts and pecks the keyboard in an effort to swirl up the nastiest and most hurtful of comments, tucked back deep into an old post so as to escape the sharp eyes of my commenters. (more…)
Through this process of therapy has come a series of moments, of which I didn’t expect. Moments of intense and unabashed heartbreak. Moments of laughter and discovery. Moments of clarity. Moments of confusion.
There have been several times, as I am sure there will be several more, where the blinders have been ripped off. Where I stand, naked and shaking in the brightest sun. Secrets totally stripped, and I am lain bare. Where there is nothing but the truest essence of what I am, flayed open. Begging for acceptance and expecting nothing but the worst. (more…)
So I am a girly girl. I love make up. I have a vast collection of saucy high heels, I love a pointy boot and I wear perfume.
I have impeccable manners, wear lipstick like a champ and have a hair dryer AND a diffuser. I paint my nails (hands and toes, thankyouverymuch) with OPI. I love MAC. I am a soprano and I use lotion like a madwoman, I love sparkly things. Butterflies. Fairies. (more…)
I don’t know if I expected to awaken, enlightened. I don’t know if I expected to feel as though the work I am doing for myself is enough, simply because I am finally caring enough to do it. I don’t know if I expected to sudden love my body, my heart, my soul.
I don’t know if I expected to fall in love with my pillowy hips, with my exaggerated curves, with my nose which never quite seemed to fit my face. I don’t know if I expected to forget feeling like a worthless piece of shit. If I expected to forget being told that very thing. I don’t know if I expected to roll over as he slept, and be filled with feeling worthy of him. (more…)
In fairness, I don’t suppose we’re strangers. In fairness, I suppose if you have stumbled upon me here, in one way or another you know me as well as many in my day to day.
In fairness, just because we haven’t met, I don’t suppose we’re really strangers. I realize I take risks by putting myself out there, in this forum. I realize it seems brave, or honest or big. It may be some of those things, or none of those things, or all of those things. It may be foolhardy to expose these tender secrets to the prying eyes of people I don’t know. (more…)
The thing that sucks about being a “survivor” is the process of survival. The process of getting up and living and working and being in the face of something horrendous.
While the terror is far gone, the aftermath lives on. I am half life, sometimes. Like those big, snorting, three tusked boars that walk around Chernobyl feasting on toxic grass. I have survived, but don’t know how and sometimes, don’t know why. (more…)
I know, I need to lighten the hell up around here. I’ve done that for my friend Dawn. Go visit and say hello, won’t you?
But the truth is, friends, I am going through it.
News from the neuro is, not terrible. I am a “classic migraineur”. Seriously, is that a word? But apparently while am classic, I am also severe. In case, you know, I didn’t know that. I like this doctor, as he’s given me some natural alternatives as well as medication to combat the headaches when they hit. Which, thankfully, are no longer daily. Amen. (more…)
What they don’t tell you is that you will be cold. You will be cold when you go into the room, dressed in their spare scrub pants. You will be cold, there in your bare feet and your lavender shirt, which clashes with their spare scrub pants. They are blue. Like your toes, because you are cold and they didn’t tell you.
They didn’t tell you that you would have to take off your rings, until you got into a small, but stylish room. So you walk in, naked fingered cradling your arms close to your chest, which is without a bra. Another thing they could have told you. (more…)
My Grandfather’s bible is a wonderful thing. A holy thing, of curled and gold edged pages. King James, and underlined. Leafed through and notated and well used. Well loved.
My Grandfather, a tall man, a gentle man, with a voice that was strong and real and devastating. He spoke truth in the tone of pure love. He spoke truth in a lilting and glorious tumble of biblical fire. I could feel the fire of his voice lick at my toes as he spoke, raise goosebumps on the back of my neck.
A simple ” I love you” was divine scripture. (more…)