Friday, July 13, 2018
Then, how do you select the correct shoes? Ones to carry a burden much heavier than you had planned for a hot summer day. Which are the most practical to help his soul walk the path to peace? While I’m thinking about it, can you leave bread crumbs for a spirit to find it’s way home?
What can you wear that doesn’t make you feel more exposed than this raw vulnerability? But also something that allows you to breathe deeply, and freely wrap your remaining friends in love. What outfit makes your stand proud in his memory, without making you fidget under the gnawing awkwardness of never understanding...why?
As I weigh all my options, and stand in front of a bursting closet, I decide I’ll wear white. Because even though I am undeniably in mourning, my hope he has not been lost in vein will reign paramount. In his honor, I will fight the stigmas harder than ever before. Plus, it doesn’t hurt to be shrouded in his name.
Wednesday, October 11, 2017
My older brother's first childhood memory is of intruders in our house, holding a gun to my head. I was less than a year old, and while I am thankful I have no recollection of the events, I have no doubt my body does. I have always had a heightened sense of danger and the events of my childhood only sharpened my awareness.
My first memory is of being transported in a box truck. I recall the metallic, dusty smell and the pain in my eyes the few times I saw the sunlight during the journey. I do not know how long we traveled, nor the locations we stopped. I do recall being taught to play dominoes by two strange men that kept me in their hotel rooms.
I was traded, as blonde haired and blue eyed currency, to the debts owed by my drug addicted and abusive step-father. From the age of two until I was seven, I was not seen as a human.
My faith in humanity is paper thin, but I do have hope. It is fragile, and lacks confidence but hope is there. I have survived being a victim, and the dialogue we start with young boys and girls about strength and fearlessness I hope will translate to less abductions of innocence.
Sexual assault, child molestation, rape. They're words that make us uncomfortable and therefore we avoid them. We sweep them under the rug. We attempt to make excuses for the actions because no one wants to believe in monsters... but they're real and we need to see them for what they are.
To my fellow survivors... Remaining silent does not protect you. I hear you. I believe you. I am here for you.
Monday, September 7, 2015
Monday, July 20, 2015
Thursday, May 21, 2015
Tuesday, May 12, 2015
Thursday, April 9, 2015
2. Reigniting my love for Dave Matthews Band hasn't made me feel the least bit guilty. I don't care what the Negative Nancy's say, the band makes me happy and they're genius.
3. Spending holidays with my ex-boyfriend isn't conventional, but it sure is fun. He's adorable, I love him, and his family is the best. The "ex-hangover" was 90% worth it, and I like those odds.
4. Horses. Always a good idea. Seriously, look at these two...
5. This made me laugh for easily 10 minutes. (Every time I watch...)
6. And this... well this might be the sexiest thing I've ever read...
I'd lick my fingers
and flip your pages,
until your spine creased
and you lay spent,
with nothing left to offer.
Then, I'd cup you in my palms
and read you again.