Broken Soul

 

There are things in this life that no person should ever have to experience.  I have spent my entire life trying to run from those things trying to ignore them, and pretend that I was fine.  I have felt parts of them and banished the rest.  Today that is an issue because there are parts of me lost back there, that don't even know its over. . There is a part of me that is so afraid; she refuses to even open her eyes and see the light. She is just that afraid.  I am not sure you can understand that kind of terror.  All these years later and I am terrified.  The things that I am facing are things that I fear will be the end of me, I worry that I am not strong enough.  I worry that somehow that time is going to be the death of me.   Thinking about that time is crushing, being 13 carries a certain weight that takes my breathe away. So much was taken.  So much was destroyed.  Things were broken inside my heart and mind that I am not sure I will ever get back. Having a kind father to keep me safe and protected, never had that. Having a family where I felt loved and valued ; I never got to experience that either.  There are parts of me that still hold all the things that 13 year old Sherri did, and there are days that is so confusing. 

Today I am 46 years old and I have so many "adult" things to do being a teacher, a mom , my mortgage my house. Everything falls on me, there is no one on my side.  There is no one to help with big decions, there is no one to help shoulder repairs, or car trouble.  Those are all things that an adult woman has to take care of, and I do it all; All The Time.  There is another pat of me that is 13 and stuck in 1988.  She smiles and is quiet and she is dying inside.  Things have happened to her that she has no understanding for.  Things happened to her, that have never made it out of that dark place that she is in. She can journal, there are some things she is able to get out, and still there are other things that hurt her heart, make her feel less than human, and make her wonder if she has any worth at all.  Because for our entire life no one has taken our side, no one has kept us safe and made us feel that we were worthy.  There is no one sharing the load, no one offering a break.  It's been like that my entire life, that has lead to a brokenness in parts of me that are just that : Broken. 

When I talk about the life that I had to live at 13, I feel less than. I feel like I was taking up space, and was purely an observer of the world.  The things I was dealing with were adult things, when every other 13 year old was putting o make up and having crushes, and being oblivious.  I was surviving, I was scared for my life,  I was in a fairy tale world that I was going to create this amazing life for the little life .  School was impossible, I couldn't focus, or think I had to work so very hard for my grades, it was ten times harder for me, because there were so many other things that I was having to deal with. My teen years were nothing of a normal child I was an adult child forced to face adult situations, adult experiences and live as a woman. There were no dances, no boyfriends, no dates, no friends.  Everything that a person thinks of when they think teen years mine was everything opposite of that.  

From as far back as I can remember I felt that I was broken, I was unlovable and worth nothing. That is how my life was lived.  I can see value today, but its a struggle and a fight.  In my head if I had value and worth someone would have helped me, someone would have stepped up and helped.  Yet no one did. I was the mature girl that handled everything.  Only I wasn't handling anything I was just going through the motions and doing what was asked of me.  There was no life, I was a broken girl with a broken soul that no one cared for.  That takes time to wrap my head around, and I have hope its possible but I have a fear that maybe its not. 

I heart your heart. 

Those Parts Make me UNLOVABLE

 

The only thoughts that I keep thinking is that no one is ever going to love me.  I feel like saying the things that I don't have words for is in a way a type of death sentence.  I fear saying the things that I run from, I fear that somehow getting close to that big black wall trying to save that 13 year old girl is something that I am not sure I am ready for. And at the same time, I am not sure that there is any other choice. I fear that this is going to be the death of me. I fear that I am not strong enough to help her. I fear that once I am able to reach out and she is able to reach back its going to be a connection like nothing I have ever known and that is terrifying. I fear that once I can finally connect to her that sadder than sad is going to be so big and so overwhelming that I won't be ok.  Maybe this is the thing that I can't heal from, maybe this is one of those things meant to be buried and kept quiet to violent and too awful to be spoken about.  I can do my art journals to convey the violence but to put a person in that, to know that those pictures that are so devastating were things that happened to me .  To know that things were so violent and unimaginable my mind kept me safe by basically turning my mind off and moving into the black. I am not sure that there are many people that can understand that. To know that something was so horrific my mind went black, the weight of that .  That is a realization that I know somewhere in my head.  But I am not sure that my heart can deal with that reality.  Even the real words were spoken and my heart skips a beat, somehow if I just don't breathe when those words are said then somehow they don't pertain to me. If I can not deal with that reality , I can not ask another human to ever hear what happened and hold me and love me.  There are so many parts and pieces to my life and for a big part of them I have been able to speak and given them words but this wall, this time, those things I am so afraid.  The hurt is too much; the humiliation so devastating that there will be no coming back.

  I fear somehow getting lost in that black wall, I fear that my mind will turn my world black again merely to survive and I am so afraid of getting lost there.  Even back then all those years ago I was grateful when I went away when everything had a darkness that was so far away from what was happening.   Then the times I would come out of it and had to experience what was happening to me. The confusion, the pain, the lack of understanding, the absolute fear that I was going to die. There are no words for that.  I was nothing, I was just parts and pieces and nothing I did mattered. I sit here almost frozen, not even understanding the feelings or emotions, and I want to so much.  There is a need to open this well to talk about it to figure it out, to shed this skin that was there, to shed every part of me that was touched and robbed of so much because of them. As much as I want to be free of this, the pain inside is vicious and the voices of those around me blaming and shaming is still so loud. They said it was my fault, and yet in the same breathe said I was lying.  I hear their words and lack of comfort or support and think I must have done something terrible to deserve such hatred.  I spoke, and was hated for it. I spoke and was blamed. I spoke and fingers were pointed. I spoke and was met with such horridness that I just wanted to die.  I never felt loved during that time; supported or cared for. My body was black for weeks, I  just wasn't important enough for people to see.  I took too much time and energy to be important and to be heard. Speaking up for me would have meant that adults take responsibility, no one was willing to do that. I meant nothing and was unworthy of care, unworthy of the most basic needs like safety and protection.  Even afterwards and I used my voice to speak, no locks were changed, no furniture removed, not one thing changed.  I was so alone and  failed by far too many people.  I still carry this time with me like it happened yesterday.  I see the pictures, I feel the ache, I hear the sounds, I remember so many little things, and yet there are chunks buried deep. The nightmares are as if its happening all over again.   I remember the warm sun and laying by the back door, I was literally somewhere else.  I remember Andy telling them to stop and thinking that finally my hell was over.  I remember Andy pretending and telling me it was ok, he wouldn't hurt me.  I remember the fan, watching the blades spin, thinking that each turn would be their last. I remember saying their names, over and over as some kind of reassurance that I was real. Don, Chris Steve, mike and Andy. I wanted them to stop, I wanted them to acknowledge that I was a person. I wanted them to stop, I told them over and over. I begged and it did no good.  I remember thinking  I just wanted to fix the pillows. Make everything around me perfect.  I can still hear them laughing and chanting, I was the joke.  I remember thinking that I asked for this. I remembered kissing Don before we left that weekend and feeling those butterflies.  I remember thinking this must be what I was good for.  I am not sure that I can save any part of me from this.  This is all easier when I see this as happening to the 13 year old, someone else, anyone other than me. I can no longer leave her alone to suffer, and wonder what that means for my fragile heart.

I heart your heart.

I have to reach her

 

Oh 13 year old.  13 year old you is oh so exhausted. You have been through a life that I am not sure anyone can understand.  The things that you have seen heard and been exposed to are the things of nightmares.  You are so far back in the dark room where only shadows lurk. No windows, no exposure, its like a black hole. The level of terror of shame is unimaginable. That place you are in feels like the great nothing. You stay there in the dark holding on to what has happened, because if you hold on and stay in the dark then not another terrible thing can happen to you.  You have a terror of the light that you fear anyone coming close.  You keep yourself there thinking this is a hell of a lot safer than any light that you have ever known. I would like to think that somewhere there is a hope; somewhere because if there wasn't I am sure that you would no longer be alive.  As dark as your life has been there is an ever so tiny spark of hope, thinking that some day things are going to be different.  Someday, you won't be so afraid.  Someday, you can see past all the things that have been done to you.  I have so many wishes and dreams for you.  I want you to feel what its like not having to do everything on your own.  I want you to know and truly believe that you are one amazing ,strong and brave girl.  I want you to be able to stand tall in your truth and know that you survived.  Because some people don't survive, and I am not sure that you understand that. Lesser things have killed people.  I know where you are is a sad kind of sad that doesn't  even have words.  I know that there are a lot of things that you don't have words for, and I know that you keep your eyes closed for fear of the things you might see.  I know that you hide behind a wall of the things done to you.  And I am working really hard to see past that wall and to reach out and let you know that its ok to open your eyes, its ok to come out into the light.  I can see you there in that dark place so terrified, and I am working on being able to reach through what was done to you. Those evil men the things that they took, the precious life that was lost, how they made you believe you were less than.  Soon I promise I will reach out and you need to reach back, we can do this together.  I know you are more than afraid, I know that you might not even believe me, I can't do this without you, and I don't want to.  I want for you to experience things that are good and kind in this life.  You have been alone in the dark with your eyes closed for entirely too long.  Even if you don't have words its ok to just come out of the dark and know that there are safe people, and I would never let anyone hurt you.  You don't even have to open your eyes until you are more comfortable, just reach out and we can do this together. 

I heart your heart sweet girl and I am so very sorry.  So Sorry. 

I heart your heart. 

Sometimes the road just ends

 

I have been thinking a lot lately about people that are no longer around, people that you thought would be forever and aren't. The people that for a season were your whole world then all of the sudden they aren't.  People that I gave my everything to, then they just went away. People that I really counted on, then one day they were no longer a choice. The people who I reached out too when I didn't know where to go and was met with a response that was sharper than many swords and crushed me .  There are so many chapters and shades to every story. I am sure that they all have their reasons, their stories .  I think its important that people know not everyone has people and when you are someone's person, you have to be careful with their heart. The problem is that I have people but I am never someone's person back. I hear a voice from the past saying well not everyone can be your friend.  And even after all this time I totally took it personally.  I am not everyone's cup of tea, and they are not mine, I know that.  I am not asking for everyone to be there when they don't want to what I ask for is kindness and respect.  I ask for those things now more than I ever have and its amazing those that have stuck around and those that are just a bitter sweet memory. 

  And then I heard this line : Sometimes the road just ends.  

And that line hit me like a ton of breaks. 

Sometimes The Road just ends. 

I can think that most situations in my life, the road has just ended.  When I am no longer useful, when I no longer just smile and agree when I have a voice and use it, my usefulness has ended and I am swept away in my own tears that no one ever notices. All too often with no rhyme or reason I am just left behind, in the blink of an eye.

In so many aspects of my life, the road has just ended  with people and I am left wondering what in the world happened and why was I left again.  And I used to fight, I to often tried to hold on.  But why ? Why try  when their road has ended including me and I am doing everything that I can to keep building that same road that we were once on together .

I am done trying to be the only one building. I am done.   

Even now I find myself writing a sentence or two then stopping because their are no words.  I can't find the words to describe how things have worked for me. I can honestly say that I pretty much expect that I am going to get left.  There is that hope that someday I am going to find people that  are mine just as much as I am theirs.  I can say that about the people in DC.  I can say that about some of the people I have worked with and maybe two others.  So in many aspects, I am lucky.  It's the people in my everyday that I more that miss.  The people that I can count on, no matter the level of sadness.  

I think at this time in my life I have to learn that sometimes the road just ends.  Sometimes, people will not take your side, sometimes I will not be fought for.  Sometimes I will be discarded with yesterdays news and there is not a single thing that I can do about that. I have to learn that I am not valued how I value others.  I am not a person for people to call their own.  That is just heartbreaking. All I want in this life is to be someone's person as much as they are mine, ad know it will always be so.

I heart your heart. 

I get to fill in the pieces

Someone told me that I get to fill in the missing pieces.  I get to fill in my own narrative of the things and pieces that don't fit, or the things that I just don't know in my story.  

WHAT ?  Really ? I can do that ?

 That is pretty Freeing. 

And that is also really terrifying!! 

 Because my whole life, I was not believed, I was told that I was asking for attention. I was told I was the chubby unpopular kid who would want to do that to me ?

That is one of those things that is said that a person can never ever forget.

I have been questioned and questioned some more and even questioned more.

I was not believed when there were things I didn't remember, I was not believed when I wasn't able to even verbalize the things that had happened to me. 

I was not believed when I was so dead inside there were no more tears left.

There are parts and pieces of my history that are blurry, that I don't remember.  

Plain and simple there are pieces of my story that I literally have no memory of at all.

I hate that, and at the same time I am learning that I don't remember for a reason and that has to be ok.

There are parts of my story that I remember everything, down to shades of a color , the 

smell of cologne and even sounds and sensations that I experienced. 

Somewhere in my head along this journey I believed that if I could not remember every single detail and answer every single question then there was something wrong with me.

Even the parts that I was able to tell, it never seemed to be enough for anyone. 

Nothing was bad enough, serious enough or big enough.

There was always more questions, but not the kind of questions that happen when a person cares and wants to understand. The kind of questions that tear at who a person is. 

The kind of questions like : Well how long was he there ? 

And I can't answer that question I didn't look at a clock, I didn't have a timer but For my mind and soul it felt like he was there a very long time.  It felt like eternity and seconds all at the same time. I don't know because while he was hurting me, I was worried about what would happen if my parents came home, what if my brother came home

what if what if what if..

what if someone tried to stop them; what if someone came to help 

My thoughts were on the cold floor, my thoughts were looking for any kind of escape. My mind was everywhere except on that cold floor being raped. I wanted nothing more than to focus on any thing other than what was happening to me and how long he had been on top of me.

Then the response : Well sex doesn't take that long which was accompanied with a laugh, and her swinging her foot . Looking around at the others looking for some kind of approval at the question she just asked.

I felt completely stupid, like that was something that I should have known.

That interaction will always hurt my heart, So I fear filling in the pieces I don't remember because I don't want anyone to ever think I am just looking for attention, or wanting sympathy because nothing is further from the truth. 

I wanted to be held, told it was ok and that none of those things were ever ever my fault.

Sometimes there are big pieces that, I don't have a clue about.  

There are big pieces that my mind just couldn't hold, or did hold on but buried them into some kind of abyss.

So as freeing as it is to think that I can create my own narrative, I am afraid that I won't be believed, that I will once again be called a liar. That the things I do remember will be a joke.

There are things till this day have never made it out of my mouth. 

I am grateful to have my art journals, they are my expression of so many things that I can't say. 

Someday I do hope that I can stand tall and say those things and not feel ashamed,

not feel like I am an awful gross and disgusting despicable person because of others actions. 

Someday Someday. 

There are many pieces that surround that 13 year old, that I can't place or make sense of.

There are some really big pieces that I just don't understand. 

There was just so much, that I either don't know or don't have any recollection of.

I have parts but not a complete picture.

I don't think that many people can understand how very frustrating that is. 

Things that happened to my body my soul but  there aren't even any words for.

Someday, I want to be brave, and just for once speak the things that I have never been able to 

just to get them out, Just so they can see the light of day.

Sometimes I want to get them out as words just for the fact that they are taking up too much space in my heart.  If I could just give them some light, just speak the truth  just be brave enough to let myself speak the words and feel it. 

If I could just share my story the parts I do remember, and the others that I struggle with. The parts of my story that I need help finding words for; With no judgement or doubt, no fear of what others will think. 

I just want the pieces that I am able to fill in to be ok.  I want the parts that I do have to be respected and honored,  I want the pieces that I struggle with to be heard and helped.  And I want the pieces beyond words, the things that I can only find a picture for to be seen and spoken about. Help me find the words to heal.

So I am going to take from this, that I get to fill in my story with pieces that make sense to me.  I get to write the parts of my story that will make me feel whole and heard. 

 I heart your heart

 

Week full of Rememberances

 

If there is one more thing this week that is a

reminder, is a rock in my sock or a memory of

things meant to be left behind I am going to scream 

for the rest of my lifetime and then some. 

Everyone 

knows that I won't because I just smile and get

everything done.  But if I could I would scream for 

an infinite amount of lifetimes, and a scream like you have never heard before that would break 

windows for miles.   It seems that with all the added stress of this week,  it seems an invitation was sent 

out in the world that Callahan's plate wasn't empty and to please add some more.  Well world you have 

done a fabulous job, 

and I am drowning. 

As if I don't have enough reminders in my every day this week they have been added ten fold,  and I am beyond words.  

The contractor that is coming for the carpet,  his name is Andy.  And I struggle and I question was Andy the good guy that I thought he was ?

I have two students in my Summer school class whose name is Isabella.  There is a pain every single time I say her name.  She is soft spoken and missing her two front teeth, she isn't quite sure of herself, but her smile brightens everything around her.

People are in and out, I am barely breathing and no one notices a thing.  

There is no understanding and I am left to do it all on my own.  But I am breaking.

I am laughed at and mocked , when I can't stop from shaking, and the words come out like a round of bullets. My voice gets louder and I repeat myself  because no one seems to be hearing or listening that the things going on are not ok. I desperately want them to understand and tell me that the things going on are not ok. But no one tells me a thing, I am left alone trying to stand up for what is right, and second guessing every decision that I am making.

I am breaking, cracking at the seams

I am seen as one who is over-reacting, and excuses are made for each and every bad behavior,

I am so confused and wonder why what they have done is excused, 

I find myself saying over and over this isn't ok thinking maybe one time, just one tim someone will say you are right....

This Is Not OK.

I often wonder what will happen when this back is broken and unable to carry even another ounce of weight

Because you see I keep going I keep going that is what I do, I wonder about the day when that is no longer an option 

I say well if you aren't dead yet you are good, you are fine ?! I mean right; the world is ending but hey I am fine, I am just overreacting 

I'm fine, oh I'm fine, hey I'm fine but I am not 

That seems like what I am meant to do

But I fear the day that I can no longer do all the things that I am meant too ? 

I fear the day when one more fucking excuse is going to be the end 

There is no real support, no one to take my side, no one to stand behind me . 

Just the smirks, the giggle, the talking to them like I am the one that is crazy.

Today the tears came and I was shaking and my cares and concerns aren't taken seriously in my home

Today I am more than tired of fighting.  Sometimes more often I wish that some things could just go easy, go as planned and be simple.  

I am not asking for a golden path, I am not asking for anything to be handed to me on a silver platter

I am simply asking for care, kindness and even respect.  I am asking for people to honor my feelings. 

I am asking to be heard, and even seen. Those are the things that I am asking. 

I am asking for a break for a reprieve, I am asking for help navigating all the things that I do not know. 

I am asking that someone take my fucking side with out having to fight for it with in an inch of my very

 life.

Adrift : Mark Nepo

 

The simple beauty in this Poem is more than amazing.

 That first Line : 

Everything is Beautiful and I am so sad. 

Yes That.  

It makes me cry.  Everything is Beautiful and I am so sad. 

Yes, I am so very sad. 

I am more than grateful for Glen Phillips for being such an awesome human and sharing this poem during one of his concerts. I will forever be grateful.  Because I am so sad, and everything is beautiful.

I feel like this is everything that I feel for my life.  I can see so many amazing beautiful things around me and yet that sad. That ever present sad that aches, that never goes away.  Sometimes I feel bad saying that,  because there are so many reasons for me to be happy.  I have so many things in my life that are great, and beautiful and amazing and I often feel that I don't still deserve to be the kind of sad that I am. I feel like this writing is a way for them both to exist and be ok at the same time. I have said it before, I feel like for me there is always going to be a certain sad. 

I see the pictures in my head, things that I carry. Things that have happened how I have been treated.

There is such a great deal of sadness.  Most of those sadness's were things that I was never allowed to feel or even acknowledge. There was such great loss for so many things. 

I think that there is a part of me that feels somehow  if I just acknowledge that sadness is there and might always be there,  somehow that is the permission it needs. Right now in this moment in this time  its ok to feel that sad.

And someday, just maybe someday that sader than sad won't be there anymore; 

Even if it feels like such a huge part of each and every day now.  

It's only been recently that I even acknowledged, that sad.  I went through for so long pretending that everything as fine, pretending that all the cracks, and bruises, all the gaping wounds were just meant to be.  Being able to acknowledge that deepest sadness, and also know that there is great beauty ?!? 

Wow, I am not sure that there is anymore amazing than that. 

 

Even when My eyes are open

 It was one of those days today. Sleep is an issue, it always has been. I struggle to fall asleep and struggle even more to stay asleep. I get more than tired, but I wonder if I have ever known what restful sleep even is. Sleep isn't a peaceful restful and rejuvenating thing that happens, its a violent and brutal way that my mind likes to replay and figure out the violence that has happened. 

Sleep is unbelievably hard to come by. Afternoon naps in my chair are a time I can peacefully fall asleep. No darkness, no fear of my bed; just a time to rest. I look forward to these and if even for a short time feeling well rested and ready for anything.

But this afternoon there was nothing restful and it was the kind of sleep where you wake up and feel like you got hit by a mack truck.  The kind of sleep where the dreams are so terrible that even when you wake up its like they aren't over.  Even though your eyes are open, and you know that those things aren't happening, it affects you. Your heart is still pounding in your chest and it literally feels like you are back in the dream and you are having to fight for your life.  It was like that this afternoon.  It literally took hours to shake the feeling that something terrible was going to happen. And now it is already after midnight. My eyes are burning I am achy and there is no way that I am going to try to lay down and get some sleep.  I fear that when I do, I am going to be right back where the dreams this afternoon left off.  

Welcome to a day in my life.  

And there lies the problem.  

Because the things in my dreams are things of my everyday. 

Because all those things that still haunt me as I sleep were so long ago, but yet still ever present.  But close my eyes and they are all there clear as crystal waiting for their turn to steal the hope of restful, peaceful sleep. 

Someday, I will truly rest. 

I heart your heart. 

The lonely Three

 

So many things that are not understood. I feel so crazy a good deal of the time. I want so much to understand how differently my brain works, how I see things in this life so different. Somedays I want to keep talking until I have it all figured out. Somedays I want to scream at the world about things that have happened to me. I want to make everyone understand, my heart and why I am the person that I am. Sometimes I want to scream out loud about the pictures that are in my head and how they follow me throughout the day.  Other days I want to bury it under tons of cement and steel, and pretend that it doesn't exist. Some days I want to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction of all that hurts inside.  I hope there will come a day, when I don't want to talk about it anymore, When all of this won't seem so overwhelming and there is nothing to run from. I hope in time the need to figure it all out will go away. I wish I knew what I needed to do for that longing feeling deep in my soul to lessen and disappear.  I feel like its me , little Callahan and 13 year old in this together, connected yet so far away. We were all we had, just the three of us. In a world full of adults and caregivers that never saw us; we were the lonely three. We were all that we had, no support, no care or concern. Some days I was strong, but most of the time it was them. Maybe that is the struggle right now.  13 year old is in complete darkness scared of every sound every move, she is in a state of terror, that is unfathomable to most. She can't even open her eyes because the fear is just that big.  Little Callahan is somewhere enjoying life, with out a care in the world. She is laughing and dancing, truly getting to be.  She knows that things were bad, she knows just how violent and evil that people can be, but she had a hope that she was meant for more.  She also knows that she isn't alone and its ok for her to do some of those life things that she missed out on.  Then there is me struggling to hold it all together.  I wish that I knew where little Callahan was. I want to hold on and care for her, I want to hear her giggle and tell me all about the life that she is experiencing. I want to meet the little girl that she should have had the chance to be when she was 5 years old.

 I wish that I wasn't so afraid of that 13 year old. She holds so much in her weary heart, and is terrified of being hurt; of letting people in and doing even more damage to her mind and body.  There are scars on her soul that no one will ever be able to heal, that I am not sure will ever see the light of day.  I am desperately trying to pull us all together, and that is really really hard.  I feel like I am the weakest link of all of us.  I am the one that hides away putting so much on them and they are the ones there; that have to endure such horrendous unimaginable acts.  I often feel guilty that things were so awful that I just went some where else. Many times I feel like I was the lucky one just getting to float away to  anywhere else other than where I was.  There is a part of me that feels like I let them down because I couldn't handle what was happening to me.  Even today, I still see it like it was yesterday, and I am far away watching and one of them is there being hurt, and I am just a bystander. Unable to offer any help , support or care.  And people wonder why I don't want to be in my own skin,  this is exactly why.  Because its like its happening to them and not me.  Somewhere in my brain that makes sense, somewhere else in my brain I feel like that was the easy way out. Often I look at it like I was not strong enough to endure what was happening, then at the same time I know that those things did happened to me, I was there I experienced all of those things but somehow I put it on that 5 year old that was me that I was so far away from.  And with that 13 year old,  there are pieces I was there for but there were also pieces, that I completely went away for and those things I feel will haunt me forever.  Sometimes things are so clear, and I understand that my little brain couldn't cope with what was happening.  Mark says its a smart , creative brain that is able to do that.  Me, I just feel stupid, and if often feels like the easy way out.  Let a different part of you deal with this because its too much.  Seems pretty unfair .  There are a lot of pieces and things that I am trying to put together.  There are things to work on so I can bring us all together and feel like we are me and not some individual who experienced so much way before our time.   Believe me this all feels pretty crazy.  Sometimes it makes sense and other times it feels more like I am going mad.  I want to stand tall and believe that I did the things I had to do to survive. Someday I want to be ok with that, and know that I did the right thing.  I want to know that I made the right decisions .  I want it to be ok that I made some not so great choices. I want it to be ok that I was living my life. I want it to be ok that I danced.  I want it to be ok that I wanted to be kissed.  I want it to be ok that I wanted my father to be proud of me. I want to be ok with the fact that I picked out one of his shirts never expecting, a rape as payment for that choice.  I want it to be ok when there was no fight left.  I want it to be ok that forever and always there are going to be some things that will always affect my heart.  Someday I will be able to stand tall and own the things that I can't imagine owning today.  

I heart your heart