So I write: Victoria’s Secret Pink bra

I am grateful for the outpouring of love that my friends here on wordpress have given me. I have saved the words and I cherish my tribe more than you could ever imagine. 

I have taken the advice of those who have loved and supported me on wordpress and decided to continue to write, just apply some safety nets for myself. I will have comments disabled until I feel strong enough to fight the evil that may come by way of comment. It is unfortunate because what I love most is the conversations that we have on my blog but for my own safety I have to, for now, disable comments. I hope you stay on my journey with me until I feel strong enough to handle the “trolls”. 

So I write. 

On my blog I have always written with extreme vulnerability and truth. Every part of myself I have shared. Each emotion I have felt, I have shared. Each moment of beauty, I have shared. I cannot and I will not allow my voice to be shut down again. I had it shut down by my family and by those who supported the abuse/hid the abuse of me for my entire life. 

I will continue to share all parts of who I am. I have never claimed to be perfect. I have infact admitted to be flawed in many ways. 

I am walking this path trying the best I can to face the challenges. 

Mentally, emotionally, and spiritually, and physically, I am in the hardest struggle yet. I will never have another person silence me again. Even if it means disabling comments on my blog. 

So I write. I share my life good and bad in hopes that one person out there in this big bad world will feel like they’ve got ONE person who “gets” what they are going through with absolutely NO judgment or shame. 

I was watching Demi Lovato videos. I was reading Demi Lovato lyrics. 

She writes without apology for her emotions, her anger, her fight, her passion, and her pain. I just listened to Kelly Clarkson’s song she wrote for her father. These artists write without apology but with honest passion. 

So I write. 

I write without apology. I will not apologize for feeling. I will not apologize for my emotions, for my passion, or for my truth. I made the mistake of momentarily trying to justify and clarify to someone who questioned me. I will not do that again. I write from my heart and soul. I write from where I am that day, that moment, that instant. I may remember more details than previously written. I may remember less or with more vengeance, anger, or even joy. Memories come. More and more each day. Nightmares come more and more each day. Adding to my story, elaborating to my truth does not mean the previous words were not true. I will continue to write the memories as they come. I will not apologize for my timeline, my life line, my words, not fitting into a perfect square. My truth will always come. 

So I write. 

I will never apologize or justify my truth again. 

I AM a victim. I do not LIVE as a victim every day. PTSD makes me BECOME a victim again. It is how it FEELS. Some days I feel like a survivor. Some days I feel like a victim. Most days I am just a wife and a mother who is finding joy wherever I can. 
How do I feel today? To be in my mind and my body you’d feel like you were on a rollercoaster. My finger joints are stiff and painful due to the lyme disease that just REFUSES to die. My shoulder has triggered a trigeminal neuralgia response in my face due to my muscle disease. I have extreme pain and cannot feel half of my face. I smell EVERYTHING. Maybe because a seizure is in my near future? Maybe because my husband has left and I am on guard for my daughter and me? The bones in my shins and spine hurt due to my bone disease I suppose. Emotionally, I have manically organized photos, cried, felt despondent, felt abandoned, felt alone, felt, damaged, felt like there is no way I can mentally cope with my OWN MIND! 

So I write. 

I would like to leave you with what I always like to leave my blogs with and my days with, a little bit of good:

I heard my owl hoot. It was like an orchestra was playing the most beautiful music ever composed. I immediately got into my scooter and went out to see if I could see her ( I didnt). I got into the neighborhood behind us when it started dumping rain! DUMPING. I zipped into someone’s open garage and said a silent prayer they didn’t come out and shoot me!

I knew it would take 5 minutes to get home. The rain was not letting up. My scooter is my transportation. Normally I have an umbrella in my scooter pouch but SOMEONE removed it (I won’t name any names). So I did what a girl has to do…took off my shirt, covered my scooter gears, and sped home as fast as I could. All I can say is thank heaven’s I put on my pretty Victorias secret pink bra! I was infact still in my PJs from the night before! High five to me for thinking to throw on a bra. So I sped home with my shirt over my handle bars in the pouring rain. Many neighbors were out doing lawn work also caught off guard by the rain and as they continued pressure washing and mowing I zipped past them drenched wet, hair dripping, in my very nice pink bra. I have no idea why but I just started laughing! I gave them each a wave and in a terrible British accent told them “ Carry on and ignore the girl in the rain in her scooter and her pink bra.” The couldn’t hear me and for all they knew I was wearing a bathing suit. Yeah, they know me well enough to not be surprised. 

I laughed at my fake British accent and drove into my driveway with every part of me and my scooter wet but the handle bars protected by my shirt. My daughter casually calls out from the kitchen, “ So did you get wet?” Gotta love her. 


*photograph of my wet scooter with dry handle bars 🙂