One Day. One Story.
A Lifetime of Healing.
One.
A story among many.
Darkness, anger, and survival,
memories bleed through,
flickering from one memory to the next
turning the mundane,
every day into a nightmare.
I am ripped from the present
to the past of
anguish and despair
secrets that are
buried within,
the muffled cries
forcing the silence.
I am quiet no more.
I will no longer keep this secret.
I will no longer be trapped in
yesterday’s nightmare.

Meet My Imagined Imaginary Friend
I was embarrassed with my self-talk. Or maybe I didn’t want anyone to know that I talked to myself—least of all, my mother. Even though she hadn’t identified me as the scapegoat, I still didn’t trust her.
Clutter, Clutter Everywhere
I am always worried about how much stuff I have. Currently, I think I have too much. I get curious looks from people when I say that. Apparently, others don’t see what I see. This should not be a surprise to anyone—least of all me.
Tossing Pebbles
There has always been that oppositional defiance within me that wants to keep poking at the things no one wants to discuss. Because I know that when terrible things are going on, and no one speaks about them, it gives leeway to abusers to continue.