Bat-Shit Crazy

Looking back on our relationship,
sometimes I wonder
if you really hurt me
or if I was just bat-shit crazy.

My conclusion?
I was bat-shit crazy.

But that doesn’t mean
you didn’t hurt me.

__________________________________________________________

Note from the author: Just wanted to remind anyone who needs to hear it that there is no “perfect victim” of trauma. Even in light of your imperfections, your pain is valid. ❤

Truer

When I prayed,
“Dear God,
help me see myself
as I truly am,”
I hoped to get a clearer picture
of things I often deny:
my mistakes,
my failures,
my cowardice,
my evils.
Instead,
I felt
a deep love.
I wonder
if this was God’s way
of telling me
that while my flaws
are true,
Love
is even
truer.


The Life of a Socially Anxious Writer

  1. Write something.
  2. Put it out into the world.
  3. Die of embarrassment.
  4. Slowly realize that, in spite of intense feelings of shame (what Brené Brown aptly calls a “vulnerability hangover”), you’re not, like, *actually* dead. At least not in the technical, literal sense. And what a shocking revelation!!!!! You really thought you were!!!! In fact, you were quite convinced!!!!! Start getting the itch to write and share your writing again (where did THAT come from???). Forget how painful and awful it was the last time. Start believing and hoping that MAYBE, despite the disagreement of ALLLLLLLLLL your inner demons, you just might have something important to say. Bravely or stupidly (<— you’re never sure which) decide to soldier on.

5. Write something again.