By turning my insides out,

I come into full view.

And using myself as a megaphone,

All who hear me might look my way

and see

I am all I will become.


Another essay about my daily life as a neurologically deviant survivor.

I’ve been thinking a lot. (says me, every time I’m about to say something)

Where do I want to be? What do I want to do? How did I get here? Where do I go from here? What fucking planet is this?

I’ve been thinking about abuse dynamics, trauma and sexual assault, my own history, how things effect me, where I’m at in my (life long) healing process, if I’m doing enough, if I’m being too hard on myself, if I’m not being hard enough.

I’ve been thinking about work and how I just turned down a lot of hours (and money) with IATSE at a job I enjoy and can maintain. How I might actually just have to quit this job because it doesn’t seem like I can emotionally afford it. I have no idea if my ex partner will be on the calls I take. I have no control over the situation. The safe solutions I’ve tried haven’t worked. How it doesn’t seem to matter how I feel because he will always have first right to take what he wants.

How it feels like no matter the distance I put between the abusers and perpetrators that have directly effected my life, I will never be with out them. That sometimes I feel so far and distant from it all, and other times, like recently, I feel like I can never, ever be out from under the weight of it. How sometimes I just feel distant from everything, even myself. How, sometimes I really struggle with being a survivor of multiple trauma and I don’t really know where to place myself in this world. How some days, one thing can bring up all sorts of stuff that I don’t want to think about anymore. All sorts of memories and pain from a lot of different spaces of my life. How thinking about giving up this work feels more like mourning a part of myself that’s being lost to another aspect of abuse (and I thought it was over). How sometimes, I don’t even know what-the-fuck about anything.

Am I’m crying over work? Am i sleeping because I said “No” to protect myself? Am I moping because I’m hard on myself? Am I hiding because I’m so fucking sick of being angry and scared and sad? I don’t know how to talk with out crying. And I don’t need to give these tears to fucking anyone. Crying feels like a sickness, and I don’t know where it came from. Is this healing? Why does it hurt, why does it feel so lonely?

I’ve been struggling the last few days. I feel like slept all day.
Really, though, I got up, ate a healthy breakfast, hung out a bit, did some core exercise. THEN i slept all day. (not really. kinda. yeah.)
Then I checked my internet shit, had a way too healthy dinner, played a short board game, tried to go jogging (my fucking LUNGS) and went to Thieves Bay to see if I could spot some whales. Called my dad. Wrote 8 pages of journal (this post makes 9), wrote a few poems (yep), wrote an email, read countless articles, poetry and things online.
This is me trying to do healthy things when I don’t want to do anything. This is me trying to be good to myself. Fucking oatmeal, jogging, reading, self care. I resent my lack of pizza and my desire to read over watching countless hours of tv.

Now I’m staying up way too fucking late, engaging with this idea of transparency and the project of emotional/personal/political work of honesty in a public forum and I’m wondering if it even matters to post this kind of shit. If I should just give up on this tumblr idea and hide myself again. Really, I’m questioning a lot of things right now.
Maybe this will help someone. Maybe it’s helping me. Maybe everything is subjective and fuck it.


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