A Letter To Anyone Haunted By The Trauma Of Not Being Believed…

You as an adult never realize when you’ll have a moment of flashback until you’re drowning in tears and unable to catch your breath because you’re being suffocated by the silence and rage you’ve had to swallow for years because NO ONE took the time to make you feel protected, wanted and like they would bring justice to your cries for help. This is for those of us who have sat in silence because there have been no examples where we have ever felt like our bodies mattered enough for anyone to care. This letter is for all of us who are so scarred by our trauma of not being believed or being brushed off entirely. It’s not your fault.

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There Is No Safe Space For Sexual Assault Survivors

We must be allies, and advocates for ALL victims of sexual violence. There seems to be picking and choosing who is credible depending on who the abuser is. There’s an unwillingness to believe survivors because our affinity and loyalty for our memories somehow outweigh another human’s traumatic story. The shaming of survivors has been able to thrive for this length of time because fear has hindered their desire to speak up. However, now we have hundreds of survivors who are finding their voice because a handful has chosen to speak up.

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My Writing Is NOT About You…

I will never be someone who will actively go out of my way to shame, humiliate and bring another person down in my writing. It is against my personal ethics and morals to use my craft, and energy to create a post about someone’s shortcomings. Behavior like that is cruel, immature and it serves only the ego. I have no interest in hurting someone with my writing, even if I am hurting and angry at the person. If I’m truly hurt, I will address the person privately and communicate with them directly, but I will not put subliminal messages in an entire blog post to work through private issues.

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Featured

Honoring My Creative Fire 🔥

Writing assuages my insomnia when sleeping pills fail. Sitting down to write allows the tears and words to flow when I’m processing heartbreak. Dancing with my words elevate me when I am at the zenith of new love. My words bleeding on paper is what has stopped me from making my wrists bleed out in a bathtub. Writing has been my closest confidante, an unapologetic truth teller, and the one thing I could trust above any other coping mechanism. Realizing this is something that sustains me, and encourages me to thrive, this why I will not allow anything or anyone stop me from walking towards my true north.

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Sometimes You Gotta Fuck Shit Up

Sometimes woosah doesn’t work and frankly I do not want to woosah. I do not want to be good and gracious and merciful. Why should I be? Why should I be kind? It’s the right thing to do? The right thing FOR ME is to look him in the eyes, have him look me in the eyes and say every fucking thing that’s on my mind. I want to roundhouse kick him straight in the face and scratch his chest with my nails and kick him straight in the shins. I want to bruise his ribs badly so that he has trouble gasping for air so he can feel what I felt when he did what he did.

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Unleashed

Does your mind fuck with you?
The way your mind fucks with me?
Got me thinking we were magically
Intertwined in something so lovely
When in fact you were sneakily
Plotting your dip out
Without any controversy
Cuz you’re cowardly

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Eventually It Spills Over

Talking to Coach Mama helped me unpack my own 0-7 and 7-14 trauma and drama surrounding my own ideas about love, acceptance, abandonment, promises and disappointment. I understood the concepts and the realities of disappointment in dealing with my dad. My dad and I are in a good place now because of the aforementioned shit in the above paragraph. However, like I said no matter how much work I do, there’s always that little child in me that wondered why I wasn’t more important than his fears? Why wasn’t I more important than his ego? Why wasn’t I more important than his pride? Why couldn’t he just honor his word and have some integrity? Why not? Those aren’t questions for me to answer because they lie with him.

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