india.arie

"I am not the things my family did
I am not the voices in my head
I am not the pieces of the brokenness inside
I am light"

support?

I think that deep down, my family supports me for telling the truth about what happened. 
But I also think that sometimes my truth makes them mad, threatens them, and makes them resent me. 
Because sometimes it's annoying (or maddening) to hear someone tell the truth. Sometimes a down quilt of quiet feels much better than a cold shower of honesty.
But I don't have time to protect anyone's feelings, especially since no one protected mine while I was being abused. 
I can't pause or slow my own healing because it's hard for other people to know about. 
I think the best thing I can do, right now, is treat myself and everyone else with love, care, and respect. And keep telling the truth, sometimes boldly, sometimes gently, but always the truth.
Always the truth. 

destiny

is where
serving myself
and serving others
are one and the same

julia cameron

"Growth is a spiral process, doubling back on itself, reassessing and regrouping… While the occasional dazzling vista may grace us, it is really best to proceed a step at a time, focusing on the path beneath our feet as much as the heights still before us.”

that feeling when the man from Verizon walks into your new apartment

and the door clicks behind him
and your heart throbs
because it happened once
and something in your body
thinks it'll happen again

eleanor roosevelt

“A woman is like a tea bag - you can't tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water." 

me. fucking. too.

the gymnasts
  that blog post
    Anita Hill
      Aminatou
        silence
          judgement
            Franken
               Aziz
                  Farrow
                     me

when can I take a break? how?

when will it be safe to watch CNN
  or scroll Instagram
    or have a conversation at work
      without my pulse racing, stomach churning.

my brave heart heaves pain and also joy
    for the fact that this collective eggshell of shame
        is finally cracking.
          stories pour out
            like runny eggs.

i can guzzle the yolk raw...

but the little girl in me is tired.
  she wants earplugs and blinders and earmuffs
    to get through my day.

there's no longer space to compartmentalize her trauma. 
  everywhere is a reminder.
    flashlights scan the musty corners of my mind.

in the distance a lighthouse,
  my soul.
    beam strong, 
      ready.

holidays (!)

My family is driving me crazy.
I love them.
And they're driving me crazy.
_

I'm grateful to have a warm home and buttery mashed potatoes and sisters I love.
But coming "home" for thanksgiving also means
being blocks away from the man who assaulted me.

Family, if nothing else, is complex
it's loaded.
_

I'm grateful for the reminder to be grateful
and I'm looking forward to getting back to a space
that feels like my own.

have I told you?

About the women who come to my workshops and tell me that they've been looking for something like this their whole lives?

feeling the intensity of this world, building

managing my own intensity by:
noticing
keeping up
grounding
practicing
laughing
finding patience
remembering grace