I weep when the silence opens

This is so the place that I am in. I am blossoming. I am in the mending phase, and there are so many things I know and so much I am learning. It's a place where I am challenging what I have learned and looking towards what I want to understand better. There are so many tears and lots of growing pains; it's letting go and adopting new ways of thinking. 

 I cry, and I cry, and I cry. There was a time that I didn't, and now it seems that they flow quite often. I have been trying to figure out where they all come from and what they mean.  Some are sad, some are happy, some are the things that I don't have words for. My eyes are a river that flows freely. I am sitting here now, the tears flowing, listening to a new song that speaks to my very soul. I feel everything so deeply, and I am grateful for that, even though it is hard. There are still so many sad tears that have never been given a voice, but lately these tears of mine are just the tears of all the silences that I have had in my life where tears were never allowed, and are just now starting to blossom.  The tears today are tears that I never imagined I would get a chance to share, to experience, to feel. I am at a place in life that I have worked for, and I am not even sure I ever truly imagined what it would be like. I knew I wanted it, but never imagined it would actually be mine. 

I am in a place where my tears are helping plant seeds for others, and I am offering hope to those who may have lost theirs for a time. I am doing things today that are making a difference and have purpose and meaning. I am better at controlling those tears, but they are the things that deserve to be seen and even witnessed by others. Too many sad tears have been cried as I fell off to sleep or hid the deepest pain to make it just one more day. I have cried oceans, and only a pond has been seen. So the tears just come, at the little things, the big things, and all the things in between.  For the longest time, I wasn't allowed to feel or experience, and now it is my time to experience all the things that I was never given permission to feel or see. The silence is so loud and I am working to give that part a voice. All that spunky was never allowed to share, to speak to feel. Because today I don't need anyone's permission, and if a person can't handle my tears, then they need to find a different space than the one I have worked so hard to build. 

I am not a fan of all the tears, but I have to say, it's a kind of reassuring softness I feel when I think of my tears as something blooming, watering the path I am on for all the amazing things ahead of me. I feel like pieces are falling into place for me, and I am scared to death and more excited than I have ever been in my whole life. 

I heart your heart 

When fathers day is heavy

 

This year, Father's Day hit differently than it has in the past. It held a sadness: a quieter awareness for me of all that I never had, all the things that my children never had, the amazing father that my son is, and how he is impacted by not having a dad or any kind of role model to look to. It felt like this merging of all the places, things, and events that have led me to this point. There was a sadness for what I didn't have, a breaking of my heart for my own children, and another breaking for Vincent, who wonders what the things that he thinks and feels as a father are, not having a father, and having to deal with all of the things that go with that. 

It was the night of Father's Day, and I even found the courage to ask Mariska if it was hard for her, and she said yes, sometimes. I am sure I could hear my heart hit the floor.  I tried to speak, heard my voice crack, and waited a minute. I asked what made it hard, and she said she didn't know and changed the subject. I wanted her to come sit next to me and ask all the hard questions that she has in her heart. I don't even know if I could answer them. I don't know if I would have an answer to put her heart at ease, but at least it would be named and spoken, and I hope that alone would make a difference. 

I think a huge difference for me this year is Vincent being a dad. I see just how important that his daughter is to him.  I love how he knows her, what she likes, and what she doesn't. He knows her schedule and what makes her happy. They both light up when they see each other. How she melts on his shoulder, and he just is there with her, it's beautiful.  Getting to be a part of that is something more than awesome. On the flip side, my heart breaks for my children; they have a burden that I feel with every inch of my being. They never had that, and often I feel like I am not enough. To know that it has had an effect on Mariska is heartbreaking. There are so many things I want to say, and I just don't know how to say them. I will forever be sorry with all of my being. I know that it has affected Vincent, and I don't even know how to talk to him about it.  How does a mom tell her children the most precious things to her in the whole world that came from something violent, but for me, they are all that matter?  So many questions, and I feel like that elephant in our hearts is getting bigger, and I have to find a way to bring it up and let them know that everything is already alright. I have them, and that is all that matters to me. 

I heart your heart

What do you do when justice never comes

 

I saw this in an email post and haven't stopped thinking about it.  What do you do when justice never comes? You cry, you scream, you keep breathing, and then you cry some more.  There are some things in this life for which there will never be justice. There will be no answers; there will be no resolution. There are some things in this life that are not fair and should not happen, but they do.  So when justice doesn't come, you hold on to the things that make your heart sing. You find ways to find meaning in those injustices around you, then find ways to do things differently. 

I know, for me and my story, there are things that are just completely unjust: the things that have happened, the way I was treated, and the ways things were handled. There is nothing fair in the cards that I was dealt in this world. I could have hurt others; I could have turned cold; I could have made the choice to hate, to become bitter.  Instead, I took all of the things that happened, and I worked on them, I molded them, I tore them apart in order to heal. I made the hard choices to do things differently than I had ever known.  I do not blame a single person for how they chose to handle their injustices. All of us deal with the worst things in all different ways. Some heal and grow, some heal and hate. Some look the other way, and still, some heal and make a difference for others. When your justice doesn't come, you have very important choices to make, and decisions about the life that you want to lead going forward. My heart aches; there are still some wounds that need tending, but I will never stop tending. I will never stop giving meaning to the things that have happened to me in order to breathe freely. I used to say "fighting," but I think "tending" is a better word.  I am present, I am aware and I am more than willing to do the mending to find the happy. There are times that often get lost, but I am still clearing out, making room for all the things that I deserve to make this little bruised heart of mine forever happy. 

I heart your heart 

I can carry us home

I heard this song, and the tears started flowing. I can carry us home. A song about grief and how it changes you, how it affects you, and the impact on everything after that moment. This song could not be more perfect for that 13-year-old part of me that has tried to do everything on her own for her entire life. She has lived lifetimes and is closer to me than she ever has been. For the first time in forever, I think she may even be in the same room with me.  I have pictured her out on a couch, sitting alone, thinking about all the things that she never got; all of the things that have been done to her. She has sat alone, trying to figure out everything she has done wrong that has gotten her to this point. She has this forever-long pointer finger pointing at herself for every fault, every decision, every pain that she has encountered.  Finally, I think we are in the same room. Tell me your story, and I will tell you mine.  Everything is already alright. We are so alright, and I haven't felt that in the longest time.  There is this sense of peace that I have longed for for so long. It's such a soft place to be after fighting for so long. Today I found out that I passed my exam, I had supervision, and I am so proud of my work with clients.  I am here because Spunky helped me survive.  I am here because I wanted better and knew that someday we would get there. She is that quiet force that always kept me going, that always believed that there was more. She would much rather be in the shadows, making magic. With each heart that she touches, it's another healing stitch in ours. I wish that I had better words to explain, but this is what I have. We live in this place of grief where there is so much loss.  We lost who we were as people.  We lost things we never knew were ours to be had. Despair and sadness followed us everywhere, and yet we have always had each other. I have always been so afraid of her bravery, her strength, and seeing things differently today is something there are no words for. I can carry her home.  Her story won't break me, and I will be ok.  She will be ok, and together we are unstoppable. 

I heart your heart. 

I'm IN

 

There are so many thoughts, feelings, and doubts swirling in my brain, and there is a peace, a determination, a drive that just doesn't stop. 

Friday June 5, 2026 I had my interview for the Ph.D program. I was more than excited, not sleeping the previous 2 nights. How was I going to convey just how important this was to me, and that this was something that I knew I was meant to do? They told us they would let everyone know within 7 days and that we would receive an email. 3:11 I saw the email: Congratulations, you have been accepted into the program! 

My fear when I started my master's was that I had not yet completed my own work!   I was always so afraid that somehow counseling others would heal my own heart.  I didn't want to do this to heal myself; once I started seeing clients, that was so not the case.  I was able to separate my own healing from counseling others. I was proud of myself and knew I was doing the right thing. My master's program has been everything amazing, I have met professors that I will forever keep in contact with and reach out for guidance. But the truth is that being in the master's program did help my own healing. I think the day I decided to continue with my master's was the day I realized I needed to do something. I didn't want to drown in the things that have happened to me. I wanted to make them mean something. As much as I wish that things were different, as much as I wish that I could change things and make them different, I can not. But what i can do is move forward, make a difference and give meaning to the things that I have been through. Wounded healer, could not be more fitting. I am wounded; there are parts of my heart that will forever be tender, but there is also a piece of me that has moved on and is ready to fight for others. I am not saying that I am done, I have work to do on sweet spunky, that brave, amazing part of me that helped me get to this point. But there is a healed part of me that is strong and brave and so determined to do things differently. Getting my Ph.D. and being admitted into the program is a dream come true and means more than I could ever explain in words.  So many things have gotten me to this point. 

Undefeated by Freya Ridings 

I stand here broken

but never beaten

if my heart is open

I'm undefeated

I have been knocked down

but I am still breathing

if my heart keeps going 

Even with a tidal wave of fear in my chest

I'm undefeated

I am undefeated 

I stand undefeated

I am undefeated

And I stand like I'm still a champion

anything could happen

And I feel that magic now

Oh all of the things that I feel right now, Magic would be one of the first words. I feel like I am on the right path, like I can see the healing I have done that has led me here, and I am more than excited to start this next chapter, continuing to heal myself and others. I do worry about the days I might feel like I am drowning, but I have to remember this moment and how far I have come. It's one of those moments when so many moments of struggle and despair come together, and there is a realization that the things that tried to break you didn't, and you're still here, standing, doing all the things that you never imagined. I am still not done. I will continue fighting for Spunky, but I am so on my way, and she is closer than she has ever been.  She will make it, she will join me, and we will do this together. She deserved so much better, and she is going to be with me through this program, so we can do better for others

I heart your heart

She Suffered So Beautifully

 

Yes, yes, this.  She suffered so beautifully that no one knew she was suffering. She was dying inside, and no one knew, or not a single soul noticed. She would smile, take care of everything she had to do, then cry herself to sleep, hoping things would be different for her tomorrow. There was a place somewhere inside of her that knew she deserved better, and she refused to let go.  So many times that 13-year-old girl would have given anything just to stop breathing, just make the pain and suffering that she felt disappear.  But still she held on.  How did she survive such brutality and keep her kind soul?  I ask myself that all the time, and all that I can tell you is that she noticed the little things. She had a spark that, even in the blackest of black spaces, held on for dear life. In her suffering, she noticed the little bird out of the car window. In her sadness, she looked for rainbows.  In her pain, she made sure that others were safe. She always loved the little things in life, and that is what kept her going. No one cared to notice the sad girl who was in front of them; they blamed things like puberty and hormones. They blamed the girl who was different and noticed things that others didn't. They blamed the girl who had to grow up before her time and just pretended that everything was fine.  She had pretended her entire life, so being gang raped at 13 was no different for her. This was her life. This is what she was meant for: just keep breathing. Through it all, the suffering never stopped. She never lost her kindness; she never lost sight of the beautiful little things that were all around her. She noticed the lightning bugs, and the caterpillar, the way the rain hit the window, and the Shar-Peis that lined her wall. She loved the beat of the song and played it over and over until it reached her soul.  That is how she survived so beautifully.  She did it with no one holding her hand, telling her that she was going to be ok. She did it alone in a world full of millions of people who should have done something. She survived the unimaginable through the little things the world gave her in the deepest, darkest moments. Sometimes all I can see is the blackness, the cluelessness, the brutality. I am learning to see her differently. She suffered more than anyone can imagine. She suffered on a level that has no words. So yes, she is different, she cries, she feels everything deeply.  The depth of her pain and the depth of how she views life comes from that girl who suffered so beautifully that no one on the outside noticed. I am so very grateful for that girl. I am her, and she is me.  

I heart your heart

Injustice

 I am not even sure where this is going, but this word seems to be front and center. Just the injustice in the world all around us, and some of it, there is not a single thing that can be done about it. It started with a client, then there was an ICE protest, then there were all these little things, and I think so many things just aren't fair. There are just so many things in this world that have no rhyme or reason; there are things in this life that just are, and the pieces left in the aftermath can be a lot to process sometimes. I have never been a what-if person; I have never questioned whether life is fair.  Lately, I feel like I am there, living in that place where things just are not fair. The things that Spunky had to endure are not fair in any way, shape, or form, and it is hitting me like a lead balloon. Her world should have been so different. She should have been loved, cared for, and protected, but she wasn't. There were a few heroes who will forever be near and dear to my heart, but there was always something that I never got. I was the one on the outside looking in for as far back as I can remember. I never fit in.  I never belonged anywhere, and I am sure that part of that is just me and the way that I am, but at the same time, I want to belong somewhere, be someone's favorite, be someone's person. I know that I see the world differently, but that isn't a bad thing; it is just me. I want the me, the person that I am today, to be appreciated. I want to be celebrated for the woman I am, who has dug herself out of the dark to help others see the light. It feels like I am always waiting to be heard and understood, exactly where I am today. And then when I do feel that, I think, oh no, am I too dependent, like am I being unhealthy?  All these thoughts in my head make me want to scream. I feel broken sometimes, and as much as I work on my healing, I get frustrated that I feel so deeply, and then in the same breath, I wouldn't be me if I didn't. I wish I was ok with the person that I am, the me that carries this heavy soul that has been through so much. I see how far I have come. I know that I will never stop until I find the peace that I am looking for, but shit, this journey is not for the weak, and I am so tired. I am beyond exhausted and there is so much work to do. I want a time when I don't have to fight. I fight for spunky every single day, to find the things she never got and to experience life with her head up high. I fight so that someday, she can breathe. 

I am not looking for easy, and I will say it a million times that I don't expect anything on a silver platter. There are millions of people in this world who have survived the unimaginable. I am just asking for some peace. My own little part of the world that is filled with kindness, wonder, and presence. A place where the little things are seen, appreciated, and adored. Life is hard, and we are all out there doing the best that we can, and I will always always do what I can to make sure that my part of the world is everything that I need it to be now and what I needed back then. I don't have all the right words right now, my chest is heavy, and I have such a longing for all the things I never got, all the experiences I never had. It's that soul kind of sad, from always fighting and struggling to find that just right place where you fit in the world.  Here is something.  These words are better than mine. 

The World That Should Have Been

There are nights when the sky feels bruised,

as if it, too, has been struck

by hands that should have held gently.

And the wind moves like a witness

who has seen too much

and learned to stay quiet.

In the corners of dim rooms,

children fold themselves into smaller shapes,

trying to take up less space

in a world that has already taken too much.

Their shadows tremble on the walls

like questions no one answers.

Somewhere, a voice is raised —

not in love, not in warning,

but in the sharp, tearing way

that makes a soul flinch long before a body does.

And the cruelty echoes,

a sound that should never have been taught

to human tongues.

Yet even in this brokenness,

there is a defiance that refuses to die.

A heartbeat that keeps insisting

the world was meant for better things

than fear.

A trembling hand that still reaches

for light.

A voice that rises again,

cracked but unbroken,

saying:

I deserved more than this.

I still do.

And maybe that is the quiet revolution —

the refusal to let cruelty

be the final author of our stories.

The courage to stand,

even on shaking legs,

and claim a future

that does not mirror the past.

I heart your heart.