a note to my younger self; the try hard.

 Seeing myself in what I wrote publicly over the last ten years is a mind trip. I never showed you the abuse that happened. I never showed you the guilt that seeps in, deep in my bones. 

Oh Little one, you shouldn't have had to carry the burden you did. you acted so hard to possibly be accepted because who you were was not acceptable. the self-hate you carried because of not knowing who you were was worthy of love. striving for a gods perfection - to people who didn't even see the words they were saying were killing people? 

your friend who was raped and murdered at 13. 

the friend that was ostracized for a young pregnancy.

the ones who were hidden and whispered about for their queerness 

while the ones who hit their children were protected.

when your grandmother died and someone said it was gods divine plan- payback.

the three "friends" who tried to kill you.

the ones who thought they could assault the queer out of you even though you didn't even know what that was yet.

you cared for so many people, who cared for you?

your father who was gone, or drunk. does he know you?

your mother, in so much pain she didn't see she wasn't feeding you, so you learned to feed everyone except yourself.

your education, papers you printed out yourself, never graded because you were teaching your siblings how to read. 

Three suicide attempts, never noticed. 

blamed for your own coping mechanisms. 

I see you, darling, swearing off men and love so young because you didn't trust them.

identifying as an adult at ten- because in all but age you had to be. you should have had a chance to be free. you should have been allowed to make mistakes. to run in skirts, to fight and play. 

I see you so desperately trying to convince people to love you. the perfect worker. the perfect daughter. the perfect tool. 

never having a nickname. not allowing yourself to break until they broke you. ADHD, chronic pain, and depression are pushed down and lashed out against instead of addressed.

I understand why you're tired, love. You've been strong for so long. it's ok to be soft. it's ok to rest. You're worthy of help. you don't have to do it all yourself. you don't have to be perfect. you can fail and still be worthy of love. it's ok to acknowledge you're in pain. you can ask for help, the people worthy of being around will not begrudge it to you.

I understand that little game you used to play, where your parents died and you were in charge of caring for your siblings. It's easier to pretend than to understand why your parents weren't there for you. they didn't even realize they weren't, Little One. they did what they knew. it's ok to forgive and remember.

I see your need to run away. I see your need for pain, thinking someone might notice you. 

I see you trying so hard to save everyone else while you were drowning.

I always thought my dreams of drowning were a vision of how I was going to die. little did I know that it was an allegory of how I was already drowning. You're a stronger swimmer than you think. you made it out. 

out of the stagnant pit, they call a place of worship. out of the gripped hand they call love.

funny how freedom feels like a freefall when you've never used your wings.

Maybe now that I know who I am, the next chapter will be easier.

27 was supposed to be the day I finished my story. maybe just maybe it's actually the day it starts being mine.

 It's so strange, coming out on the other side. Certain things form who you are, and make fundamental changes to how you see yourself and navigate the world. Sometimes, you make it through a time, and you realize going back to your childhood home, your comfort, the friends you once knew and you realize that the spot you carved for yourself no longer fits you. the person I claimed to be no longer bears resemblance to what I see in the mirror. you walk through that door and are changed. sometimes, you can't go home in a way that matters.

my trauma, my fear, and my convictions morph and change me. I become who I once needed. Fierce, protective, emotional, and careful. I've come to terms that sometimes I was a terrible person, mimicking the things that are said and done around me to survive. I need to give the acceptance I was not shown. I need to give the care I craved, to myself and everyone around me. I need to fight. I need to say the hard truths. I need to be selfish and take the things I need to survive. I understand more than ever some of the things that make me who I am, and the internal fight I deal with daily is going to last as long as I do. I need to live for myself because trying to stay alive for everyone else isn't working. 

I'm less than two weeks away from 27. 14-year-old me, 17-year-old me, and 23-year-old me are in there somewhere, proud that I lived through their attempts to kill me because they couldn't accept themselves. they had no one to understand them, but I do. I see them. I see me. I've been given so many second chances.

 I became what they needed.  I became my own safe space, a place to rest and create. I am the person that feeds them when they are hungry and sits with them when they can't see the good in the world. I love the body we all share ferociously, and I give the body the nourishment and rest it needs. I'll fight for the future my best friend tried to drown at age 8, I have the sexual ownership that was almost stolen by the many men that it will never belong to, I fight the establishments who tried to control me and once fooled me into thinking they cared about me. I protect the health that so many jobs and men have tried to mine riches from for themselves.  I am my own. I choose who to share my energy with. I choose who I surround myself with. I choose my path forwards, for that's the only direction to go, no looking back. I respect myself, I make space for personal growth and healing.  I am my own light. I surround myself with love.

I acknowledge the many things that happened to me in the past and I feel the hurt no one else is capable of listening to.

I have a voice. I have free will. all of Man's Gods are nothing to me, for I govern myself.

I am woman   I am creator    I am healer     I am hope    I am a force of nature

No one can take from me that which is mine, be it my sex, my health, my freedom of choice, or my life.

I will celebrate myself. 

I will set myself space to unabashedly feel the whole spectrum of human emotion. 

I know loss, I know grief, I know pain. 

I know bliss, I know love, I know determination.

My body is mine. no one can take it.

My soul is mine, no one can determine its worth.

My mind is mine, only I can make its decisions.

Life has many chapters, and the new chapter is one I'm writing for myself.

I was sabotaged young because the world is afraid of my power. 

The world needs me in it to see its strange beauty and its pain.

 I was put on this world for many reasons, all of which I determine on my own.

I was put here to mourn and to heal. To get stronger. You can't kill me. You can't take my heart. You can't kill me in a way that matters.

I am here despite us both. despite everything. I am beauty and trash. I am dust and starlight. 

I am 

I am

i am

I am here. I made it this far, through war, through plague, through control, through neglect. I have become something wholly unexpected. I have teeth and claws and blood. I am soft and strange and I contain multitudes. 

I exist, despite everything. 

I can give myself peace. 

and, despite everything, I still care. 

I break curses. I bring blessings.