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.

Too many things I don't want to be true

 I think right now there are too many things that I don't want to be true, that I know are true, and are hitting me like a ton of bricks. I am just so sad. Everything makes me sad about Spunky and the life she had to live, and all the normal life things that she never got to experience. The things she endured and the secrets she had to keep. The way she was treated and how she had to survive on her own and figure things out. The weight of all that she has had to carry is weighing on me, and I am not sure what to do with all of the feelings. I am further in this life than I ever thought I would be, and yet that ever-present sadness is holding on like stickers to your feet on a hot summer's day. No matter where I step or what I do, some things just hurt that are a part of my story that I don't want to be. I am not comfortable with the questions I don't know, and I am also not comfortable with the things that I do know. So, I am stuck somewhere in the middle, and no matter which way I look, there are no flowers, no happy ending.  Between what I do know and what I don't lies my broken heart.  What I don't know makes me angrier, because no one helped me fill in the missing pieces. So many could have made the healing process something better for ame and no one made that choice. 

The tears shed are different; they seem to have a greater impact, they are more intense and so very sharp around the edges. I think Spunky is closer than she has ever been, getting comfortable and trusting me more and more. I feel like she is shifting, more into a place of change than just sitting there on that couch in a state of terror. Maybe all the tears are from moving from that state of terror and not being able to have any emotions because they were too intense and too big to even comprehend. Today, the emotions are just as big, just as terrifying, only I am not that same scared, tortured, alone 13-year-old girl that I once was. I am seeing things more from the woman that I am today, standing strong in the things I believe about myself as a person, and the knowledge that I am stronger and more aware now than I have ever been. There are still parts of us that feel so very different from everyone around me, so very foreign. And there are parts of us that are the same. Our will to live, to make things better. Our ability to see the little things, the little bird drinking from a tiny puddle, the fainest rainbow, the twinkle in my granddaughter's eyes. We both have this ever-so-soft spirit that wants nothing more than for there to be peace all around us. We both have this strong sense of justice that deserves to be seen, that gives us this fight to make things better for others. 

I have worked so hard on her healing, wanting more for her. I have fought for her freedom from the darkness that she was accustomed to. I wanted all the things for her that she never received in this life. There is a part of me that wonders if all of her will heal. I think there will be places, forever untouchable things that will always ache. I am not sure I am okay with that, but I think it's just the way it is. I am trying to accept it, but that is so much easier said than done. 

I think I'm maybe leaning into what happened, sitting with the reality.  I wish the things that happened weren't true.  So many told me that I wasn't telling the truth, and little did they know that I wished I wasn't. Lying would have been so much easier than admitting the things that had happened to me. I have to work on getting the things that were said to her out of my head. The blame, the shame, the judgment that I was the one who had done something wrong. I still hold onto those things.  I must have done something wrong. I did dance with him, but I never imagined he would do what he did.  I saw the words 'unlived life,' and that is so fitting for Spunky. She never got to live life or experience things as she should have, and I can do a lot for her, but there are also things she will never have or get to experience. Life was more than cruel to her, and I am working hard for her to understand what happened to her without any shadow of blame. The shame that she feels is huge because there are still so many things she doesn't know or understand.  I am learning to be ok with that, because nothing I do can change it. I will be glad when she can trust that she didn't do anything wrong, and that we deserve all that the world has to offer today with out looking back.

I heart your heart