Remember that time…

Remember that time when I wanted to grow up and buy a house? I didn’t want just any house though. I wanted a working class neighborhood. I wanted to live with like minded, hard working, blah blah blah neighborhood. I wanted an old house with charm.

I got what I wanted but I also got the full on cock smoking problems that come with a home that is over 60 years old. I’m 100% done with this hot water heater and the stupid ass problems that I keep discovering. A hole? There’s a fucking hole in my foundation?

*bangs head against the wall repeatedly*

Image shaming

It was weird because I blamed his upbringing, I blamed where he lived, and I blamed the fact that he always had it so hard; but Saturday night was the last straw.  He asked me why I would wear yellow lip stick or blue lipstick.  He asked if I knew that the lips on a girls face were supposed to represent the lips between her thighs.  I was flabbergasted by his thought process.  This was pretty much the overly stretched last straw.  I told this friend to lose my phone number and that I was gone.  He called me every name he could think of and it rolled off of me like beads of sweat.  I’m pretty sure I would have punched him, had we been in front of one another so blessed be the distance between me and the pig.  When I told Skokie what he had said to me his eyes got wide.  I could see the rage behind his look but he took a breath and asked only one question.  He asked if I was ok. 

HA! I just found this in my phone. I had one day off in two weeks so she took me out for dranks in the middle of the day. Best bae!

I realized today that I have never openly shared this with any of you.  For the people who have known me the longest and have stood by me know that I wasn’t always the best friend, sister, or daughter. I had a dark period where I saw no escape… until I actually did escape. I had this tattoo done a year after surviving my abuser.  I had the tattoo done in the Theban alphabet to hide it’s true meaning from people who may not have understood my struggle.  From the right wrist to the left it spells never again. It’s nearly been 9 years and with the support of an amazing brother, my father (RIP), and friends who forgave me and helped me escape I have become someone I can be proud of and looking down at this tattoo always reminds me.

An individual on tumblr posted about not being sure of what to get to commemorate her own survival and my only advice is allow it to be personal and allow it to be yours. I’m proud of you!

I realized today that I have never openly shared this with any of you. For the people who have known me the longest and have stood by me know that I wasn’t always the best friend, sister, or daughter. I had a dark period where I saw no escape… until I actually did escape. I had this tattoo done a year after surviving my abuser. I had the tattoo done in the Theban alphabet to hide it’s true meaning from people who may not have understood my struggle. From the right wrist to the left it spells never again. It’s nearly been 9 years and with the support of an amazing brother, my father (RIP), and friends who forgave me and helped me escape I have become someone I can be proud of and looking down at this tattoo always reminds me.

An individual on tumblr posted about not being sure of what to get to commemorate her own survival and my only advice is allow it to be personal and allow it to be yours. I’m proud of you!

ZzzQuil is the Devils advocate for weird dreams

forkliftfoot saved me from this weird journey I had to take with this father like figure. She drove us straight into the ocean in this massive old Malibu. Then (it kept getting more odd) themamafox was our guide to getting back to our place to sleep. It was like Mario brothers man. Every time we would be confronted she would whip a turtle shell at the bad guy and we would have to jump down these tunnels to escape.


Like…. what? Hahaha thanks ladies for an awesome night of dreams!

fuck facebook passive fucks

All I wanted to do was spread a little positive light to the fucks in my real life. right?  All I wanted to do was express body positivity regardless of body type.  Some how EVERY ASS HOLE man made it a health debate.  WHAT the ACTUAL FUCK

Like a tiny pea

I took a bath and I turned the water green. I painted my nails purple then hated it. They’re now black. I’m 31 and going through old photos of my birthdays and wondering if this is where I should be in life. A broken down writer pretending to live.

I submitted to Shape Magazine

regarding body shaming and image policing.  We’ll see where that goes

He said I looked pretty because my face looked slender…

and then a little part of me died inside because I knew he would never understand. He would never fully grasp that a person can look pretty and not slender or be slender and not pretty. The two are not exclusive. His body shaming was done with out effort because that was how he had been taught.

I’m a little let down and a little broken up. Not because my friend only assumes I’m pretty if slender, but because it doesn’t matter how I approach this issue. It has now been talked to death and my assumption that progress was being made has been thrown out the window.

I’m humbled

In less than a month I have gained so many new friends and followers; even a couple fans of my writing have found me.  It’s really humbling and the positive messages have really been cool to read and respond to.  I’ve gotten some hateful messages too, but those just get thrown away with the rest of the trash.  I just wanted to say thank you for everything. 

Today I will struggle

I bought new bras yesterday. I’m not used to seeing how big my breasts are. Like… no. It’s awkward and I’m overwhelmingly sensitive about it all. I went to take an outfit photo and I just gave up.

garage sale tales

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apparently I was wrong

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Suicide and every other trigger that goes with death

Dealing with death has never been something I’m all that good with. Experiencing loss is triggering for me. So when a friend texts me after midnight to tell me that a friend had taken his own life earlier that day all I could do was stare vacantly at the ceiling. I had nightmares and since waking my chest hurts. I have no conception of what it would be like to understand how to process this.

Ranting

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