f*ck you

i bet that got your attention, didn’t it? don’t worry though, it’s not directed towards you. it’s for me.

that’s what i hear in my head when i feel like i’ve screwed up.

i’ll bend over backwards for other people. i’ll extend grace to the point where it’s probably unhealthy. i’m forgiving, kind and self-sacrificing. i’ll pour my being into helping someone else, especially when i care about them. but if it’s me? oh, if you only heard my inner mantra. anytime i make a mistake or do something i think i shouldn’t, i abuse myself inwardly… it could be something totally ridiculous, like spilling my coffee. or something worse, like sin. or just making an honest mistake — the words i use, the thoughts i have…there’s so much anger drawn inwards it’s insane. i don’t like admitting this.

it’s not my voice i hear. it comes from the past. a past where i lived in fear, could never do anything right and was belittled and literally beaten for my mistakes. i am so damn sick of the past. i am so sick of things coming up, especially when i’m weak with the struggles of life already. i know i speak for a lot of people in recovery when i say, when will it all be over? i have been begging God for something good to happen. i mean, genuinely. i am so sick of finding the silver linings in all these friggin storm clouds. just something real and good that i can embrace, trust and believe in.

there are very few people out there who can understand. i mean, really understand. honestly, unless you’re in my head or have been through the uglier side of life, you can’t. and what’s more, there’s even fewer who are willing to try to get in…granted, i don’t make it easy. and there is nothing worse than being hurt by others, because on top of that is me tormenting myself because i feel so foolish and ignorant for trusting. and now i expect to be hurt, i expect to be disappointed…almost because i feel like i deserve it. where is the grace for myself? where is the love and the patience that i have for others?

if you’ve ever read the scarlet letter, there’s a character in it that literally whips themselves because of guilt they have over something wrong they did. that’s me. except i can’t for the life of me figure out what the hell it is…so i make the most of every opportunity i fail.

i would never punish and torment anyone the way i do myself.


the night

there’s something about the ocean at night. the ghostly waves. the stars. the quiet. it’s something akin to a blanket of snow under a moonlit night. wind in the branches. the cold silence. there’s a strange, uncomfortable beauty to it.
it’s hard being afraid of the night when you’ve survived some of the worst things this life has to offer. you embrace it. you walk fearlessly forward, no longer looking over your shoulder. because – really – what is there to be afraid of anymore? what else could possibly hurt you more than what you’ve already lived through?

i think i prefer the night. when dreams are easier to believe and you’re a little reckless with your thoughts.

“i have loved the stars too fondly

to be fearful of the night.”