There are times I find that it’s hard for me to accept how things have turned out in life, being 27 and unable to work due to chronic illnesses such as scoliosis and rheumatoid arthritis, to keep it short, has had a huge impact on who I am as a person. This definitely isn’t the […]
Over the course of the last decade, I’ve transformed from someone surrounded with what I thought were loyal, caring people, to being utterly alone. As it turned out, none of those people were actually there when it mattered, so one day, I just decided that enough was enough, and said to hell with everyone.
Not exactly an easy decision when you’ve always had friends around you, or so you thought. It seems though that it’s now easier for me to just be with myself, my husband, and my daughter, and shut out the rest of the world. Some would attribute this to my depression, but it’s never been able to drive me this far from who I am.
Perhaps, instead, I’ve simply evolved into some other kind of person, one unrecognizable to myself, yet a person who’s better equipped to stand on their own. This was something I always struggled with, being alone, so I always chose not to be. Now that the option is mine, and while I won’t say it’s ideal, I won’t allow people into my life who don’t make me feel certain that they’re intentions are for the best.
After the ways I’ve been hurt, one of my biggest goals in life is to help steer my daughter away from those who don’t deserve her time, attention, love, and loyalty. Obviously someone will hurt her at some point, but I’ll help her from keeping them around for too long, as that was one of my biggest faults in life.
There’s a part of me that honestly wonders if I’ll ever be able to allow someone in, if I can ever trust someone a friend again, and how I’ll even meet someone is beyond me. My daughter is my life, and most of my time is spent at home with her, or cleaning, or grocery shopping, etc. I’m hopeful that I’ll find someone soon, but I’m not out there searching for you. Maybe you’ll find your way to me, eventually.
On this night of wickedness
Comes merriment and wonderment,
For people tell their children so.
Stories filled with fright and fun
Are told ’round a campfire,
One by one.
So one by one they build upon
The lies which ancestors spun.
Weaved carefully and carelessly
All at the same time.
But lies are never more than that,
The truth has always won.
For on this cherished night of fall
Evil companions scour the walls.
Ghoulish schemes are hatched
And planned by creatures
We have never seen
Outside of dreams.
So hold you children close tonight,
And check their treats for tricks.
For on this night we should be scared
Of the monsters we say don’t exist.
When I was 10/11 years old, I read in my local newspaper that a group of executives from a prominent record label in Nashville was coming to my area. It was simple really, fill out the required paperwork, pay the $50 fee, and bring a blank VHS tape if you’d like the performance to be recorded.
We had recently moved to a new area, and ever since I’d been struggling to feel like I fit in. So if cleaned up the house, acted as perfectly as possible, and pitched the idea to my mom. I honestly don’t know why she agreed, we were never close and not once did she feign even the slightest interest in anything I enjoyed.
When the day finally arrived, we picked up my only friend and headed to the hotel ballroom. My song choices were between Avril Lavigne’s “Complicated” and “My Immortal” by Evanescence. Both encased two different qualities in my voice that I thought sounded good, but ultimately I went with my girl Avril.
At last after hours of performances, they called me to the stage. While I was incredibly nervous, I’d also never felt more sure of anything before that moment. I remember wearing my white Adidas, the original old school ones, I stared them down so hard as the music began. I instantly regretted wearing khakis, like what was I thinking.
The video starts recording, and seconds after it begins, the sound guy can be heard asking my mom if she thinks that I’m actually gonna sing. Apparently my nerves weren’t as hidden as I had thought, and I would afterwards discover that I had sweated through my shirt and jacket, so I was drenched. But it didn’t affect my performance one bit, and I sang my little heart out.
I had a quiet start, but I finished strong, and the record execs actually expressed interest in me, but my mom couldn’t possibly allow me that much enjoyment out of life; in her words, I was lucky just to have gotten the experience. I’ll never forgive her for that moment, music is still to this day what I know I’m meant to do, and I tried so hard, but ultimately failed. I keep toying around with the idea of applying for the Voice, but I guess only time will tell.
Forget about the rights we have, we abuse them every day, and yet in the blink of an eye it can all be taken away. Around any corner could be awaiting your dismay, but on and on we go, pushing through the day. We put ourselves in boxes, categorize ourselves by race, gender, sexual preference, but it hardly does a thing that isn’t detrimental to our beings. You’re more than just a number, a signature on a form, don’t sign your life away just to be part of the norm. You do not have to be like them, with this I must implore, so take my hand and grab a friend and help me change the world.
What makes you unique can’t be defined by a book, you can search through all my knowledge, look in every nook, but still you cannot label me, for I’m far outside your box. To me this is a blessing, not being assigned to any flock, but to most I am an outcast, deeper than any black sheep am I cast. They tease and push, lash and brush by like I’m nothing, like I’m no one, but I am content being unlike the rest of you, for I will teach my daughter to live outside your boxes, too. I’ll show her that what makes her special is what sets herself apart from the rest of the world, scattered and burned, I’ll teach her to survive your world.
“Welcome to the land of nightmares, where terror reigns and the only escape is in your wildest dreams.”
When I was 3 years old, I was diagnosed with PTSD. I’m not comfortable getting into the why aspect yet publicly, but I would like to talk about how powerful our dreams can truly be, and how deeply they can impact our lives. Until I was a teenager, I would often sleep with my eyes open, too afraid to actually let myself get a restful night’s sleep. As a coping mechanism to help myself sleep better, I compulsively sucked my thumb for over a decade of my childhood, taking it with me well into my later teenage years. I couldn’t overcome it until I was 16 years old, although I started fully closing my eyes while sleeping when I was around 11. What people don’t tell you is that there are monsters in our minds as well, that our dreams can actually be quite haunting. I dreamt of things far worse than most of my childhood memories, and I seriously struggled to tell the difference between the two, becoming afraid that my dreams were actually reality. When you don’t feel safe at home and even your sleep becomes compromised, it’s incredibly and increasingly difficult to trust people, to allow yourself to enjoy and truly experience your life. Living in fear can really be the most crippling feeling, it can leave you feeling helpless and restless, and I wouldn’t wish it on even my worst enemies.