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Honoring My Creative Fire 🔥

Writing assuages my insomnia when sleeping pills fail. Sitting down to write allows the tears and words to flow when I’m processing heartbreak. Dancing with my words elevate me when I am at the zenith of new love. My words bleeding on paper is what has stopped me from making my wrists bleed out in a bathtub. Writing has been my closest confidante, an unapologetic truth teller, and the one thing I could trust above any other coping mechanism. Realizing this is something that sustains me, and encourages me to thrive, this why I will not allow anything or anyone stop me from walking towards my true north.

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The Struggles of A Fatherless Girl

However, I’m very much hyper-award of my own feelings because my daughter is acutely experiencing a similar feeling with her father. He hardly calls, he doesn’t show up when he said he would, misses her birthday and holidays and is absent. She recently had a heart-wrenching series of questions about her father’s love for her, was her mad at her and what did she do to make him stay away? My heart broke for her because I empathize so acutely with what she’s dealing with, but I’m so proud that she is articulating her pain and while she said she thought I would be upset that she missed ​him, I reassured her that I could never be mad at her missing her father.

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Loving People Despite Their Bad Behavior

What do we do with survivors who forgive their rapists? Do we shame them? Do we accuse them of buying into rape culture and patriarchy? What do we do with our own emotions when we choose to forgive our rapists and abusers? What if we love our abusers and have a soft spot for them in our lives AND carry rage and anger towards them? It is a complicated existence when it comes to the flux of human emotions. We have the juxtaposition of intense rage and complicated compassion. We have accepted apologies but still have nightmares and PTSD. We can mourn men and women who have done horrible things without feeling guilty for doing so.

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Complicit In My Own Suffering

The big picture is romantic. The everyday details are grueling. It’s the work of simultaneously building unshakable confidence and allowing myself to be vulnerable. It’s the day to day of interpersonal dynamics, making a choice to say “I need help.” , “You hurt my feelings.”, “I’m sorry and I want to talk this whole thing through.” Each time I skip over an opportunity to be vulnerable, I move further away from allowing people to learn my language. When I shy away from being honest about my hurt feelings because somewhere in my past someone taught me that my sharing didn’t actually matter. I allowed a rejection at some point to stop me from being open and I allow many opportunities to pass by because it’s simply easier than opening myself up.

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Let Me Love (Control)You

The ones we love will arrive at their lessons when it’s time to do so. Our ability to love someone as they directly stem from how we accept and love ourselves. The more work I do on myself is the more I am able to expand my understanding of what is love and what is control. The more I allow my child to be herself, listen to her realizations and love her despite my oppositions to her path of enlightenment, I can still listen and accept the path she’s choosing barring imminent death. We cannot control what the ones we love do and we shouldn’t because we don’t like it being done to us. Well, I don’t like it being done to me. I am a firm believer in getting burned in order to know that fire is hot and I have to respect whatever people believe for themselves.

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Let’s Talk About *Telephone*Sex

The conversation beforehand, WHAT you talk about and the communication and trust established while you’re learning each other. There has to be a perfect marriage of physical attraction and all of the cerebral and spiritual dynamics. You’d have to be calm, relaxed and in a space of complete trust. You also have to get to a space of fantasy land. Imagining all of the things you’ll do to them, want to have done to you, and put it all out there. If you’re shy, scared or hesitant then the trust hasn’t been established and your phone sex is going to be terrible and awkward.

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A Broken Heart Can Kill You

I knew what it meant to love so completely, and knowing there was an expiration date, and I did it anyway. It was worth the lesson, the growth, the self-introspection but it came along with a pain that brought me to my knees. Ugh. The days when I knew we had to have a hard conversation, I would cry for hours on end, I would literally feel my heart hurting and the daggers turning painfully and there was nothing I could do but ride it out. It hurt because he understood me, saw me, loved me too and it had to end. It hurt because we did things that caused each other more pain on purpose and I don’t like that.

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Apologize To Me For Making Me Mad

How many times have we seen an abused person become an abuser? It’s a dynamic that’s scary because I wonder when does the switch become flicked? When does it occur to someone who had no voice, say or emotional safety become someone who oppresses others? I think with third graders and kids in general, they are finding their voice, their place in the world and their friendships matter a great deal to them at that age. However, adults who never actually find their voice, or work through their childhood abuse become someone who either overly asserts or completely shrinks.

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