Ive got a feeling 

I cant explain it, but I feel like something good is on the horizon. Something that is “meant to be” is going to reveal itself. It’s going to bring about good…abundance of…something. 

I don’t know what I can do to prepare or facilitate this but Im going to do something.

 Purge the old, organize the new. 

Sunday’s Song

We all knew it would always come to this. You know that’s why I had to leave. I had to do it for me, but mostly it was keeping a promise to you to never let our kids experience what you were exposed to as a child that broke you and caused you to go looking to fill holes with anything that would make you feel like anything other than shit.It seems like a thousand years ago, yet, nothing has changed. Im still here hoping I was able to bubble wrap the kids enough from the impact of your impending destruction.

I imagine pain pills make sense because there is a pain you’re trying to kill.

I wish I could not care.

I hope you find your way to peace before the ultimate cost. I really do.

Triggered 

It started with Donald Trump. 

His words. His tone. His mindset. 

It reminded me of never telling anyone about what I experienced. 

Just looking at that sentence, the way the words are hanging in the air of an otherwise blank page seemingly uncapable of bearing such a worldshattering weighted statement. 

He did. He raped me. 

More than that, it is because I remained silent that he would be able to rape another. 

When I hear Trump’s words, it all flooded back to me. 

Being grabbed by the pussy. Being told he owned it. Not that way he would a more prized status symbol. He just owned me. Like husband’s used to not even 100? years ago? That’s how primative this is. That was his mindset. Ive seen it up close and personal. There is no way to spin it. It’s so obviously ugly … or it should be. This is the only “should” I am certain of. 

The anxiety set in. The post traumatic stress. I couldnt sleep. I cut into my skin. I tried to snap out of it. I overcompensate for the inevitable low swing by trying to get as high as possible. 

Movement. Endorphines. Hormones. THC. Humor. 

I reach out to friends and who should reach back but one of my oldest, dearest friends. But she’s flailing and gasping for air. She is being confined to a small place by the love of her life. The father of her children. He loves her, but when the alcohol owns him, he owns her. He grabs her by the pussy mentally. A real mind fuck. 

And I remember. 

Once youve seen it for yourself up close and personal, there is no unseeing that. You become more atuned to where that frequency resides and how to avoid it, but it never goes away. It is very similar to a parallel universe. Just beneath the surface. 

Why are women still having exposure to such an experience?

Are we still so uncivilized? Are we still so primitive in consciousness that we are unable to morally conceive that one human sbould not be, even in the mindset, owning another human?

Dear Baby Jaxon

5 years ago today and I still think of you everyday…

Stephieopolis

It is in comprehensible to me that I have to write these words from the bottom my heart instead of holding you in my arms been whispering them gently into your little perfect ear. I can only imagine what you may have looked like but I am certain that you would’ve had your daddy’s glorious, green, gorgeous eyes. I used to dream of you while looking at daddy’s eyes in his baby pictures.

Your daddy is a good man. I know he would’ve raised you with a lot of tenderness and depth. He isn’t the kind of man who pretends to not be aware of things beyond the physical. My heart aches knowing that the world will not get to be molded to fit for another good man’s presence. The world needs more people like your daddy. My hopes and dreams for the impact you would have had on the…

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