Lily

Chris and I have been together for over three years. I could never picture a life without him now. I knew the second we met that we were bonded for life. Our worlds shifted and everything changed but we both still had pasts and neither one of us to this day has managed to close every wound. He knows all of mine, he knows which ones are closed and which ones still reek havoc. My miscarriage was six months before we met. I forget when I told him of it the first time but it wasn't too far into the start of things. We've spoken about it a number time over the years but it's always hard. I'm defensive and emotional and quick to clam up. I feel like I've processed it and moved past it but if I were, I wouldn't get aggressive. The other night we talked about it again. I brought it up. Because I needed to know that I wasn't crazy. I saw my daughters face in a dream. She looked about the age she would be now if I'd had her. I saw us together. We were happy. An image I would've thought would be heartbreaking, seeing what I can't have, it was the complete opposite. This dream has brought me so much peace. Because in a way, she lived. She is growing up and she is happy and she is with me. Maybe not here with this version of my conscience but somewhere. With some version of me. But I still didn't have a name. It wasn't complete without the name. I told I didn't know her name, nothing sounded right. Lily. That's all he said. And he was right. Her name is Lily, she is my unborn daughter and she lives in me.

Best friends

I went out to dinner with my mom tonight. We had a nice time and talked about a ton of important stuff. As we were getting ready to leave, one oh my oldest friends called me telling me he was having a bon fire and that I should come by. I said I might and then he added that my best friend from elementary school was coming too. We hadn't been close since back then and hadn't seen or heard from each other since high school ended over 5 years ago. But that was all I needed to know. I was going. I was excited. I was more than excited. Maybe because our friendship took place at a time in my life when I was still innocent, it was one of the very few things left in my memories that hadn't been tainted by someone or something. Its still pure. And she is one of two people from my past that I can think of off the top of my head that hasn't hurt me. And so I went tonight. And it was great. I want to hang out with get again. I want to be friends again. Because this made me so happy. She has always been surrounded by such a positive energy. Can friendships that drifted apart so long ago be revived?

Victim VS Survivor

Everyone had a past, everyone has scars, everyone have stories that made them who they are. Some of us have baggage that will mean a life long struggle and some of us have learned to declutter our lives and leave that baggage behind.
Because I WAS a victim. For most of my life I was abused. In multiple ways by multiple people in multiple degrees. I didn't live through the worst case scenario but that doesn't make my past any less real. I felt what I felt, it was what it was and I'm at peace with the damage that was done. That's where you have failed. You claim I always play the victim yet I'm the one that identifies toxic behaviors and relationships and rids myself of them. I save myself from more damage. You wallow in it.
You beg the world for sympathy by putting on a false facade and parading around claiming to be strong and unscathed while putting others down. You find faults in others happiness. You try to maintain control out of fear. And the second someone calls you on your shit you try to break them. You are damaged, you are a victim, you have not yet become a survivor. Let it go.

Live With Meaning.

Beautiful things are happening, I feel them. My mind has begun to open and let the light in. The toxins have begun to wash away and I can breathe again. I can feel happy more than the pain and my mind is moving a mile a minute. I feel delicate and scared, this in between state is so very fragile. Tears are fighting their way out in the best way possible but I'm sleeping at night and that's a wonderful thing. I have a home, I have a love and both are far more than I expected to have so soon.

A Letter To Myself:

He won't be Prince Charming. He probably won't have everything together and you probably won't be ready for him. But it will terrify you even more to turn him away than the idea of being with him. You won't be expecting him because you'll have stopped looking but you won't have given up hope. He'll be everything you'll need for the rest of your life, more than you ever thought possible. But most importantly, he will love you every bit as much as you love him.

It's ok to be scared now. You have every reason to be. People are not kind, this world is not forgiving. However, you are strong and you are deserving and you will wait your turn. One day it will come and all the pain and agony will have been worth it. You'll be home, and you'll be happy, and no matter what else happens, that'll be enough.

Friendly Shadows

I hate the night. But I love it at the same time. Laying in bed, the busy road gone quite, crickets outside my window keeping me company. I see things at night. All of my demons come out to play. Sometimes so many they don't all fit in the room. But there's a bit of beauty to it that I don't always see. When the walls come down I'm alone with myself. I can feel everything I don't let myself feel. My sences become amplified. I want to cry. There is no reason for it, that I'm certain of. There is no depression lurking in the shadows of my mind tonight. Anxiety isn't at my throat, threatening to suffocate me. But I feel. I feel hands where they don't belong. But I hear. I hear harsh words being spoken, whispered, screamed into my ears. But I smell. I smell the blue axe body spray he used to wear. But I know. Everything in my head only serves as a reminder. None of it will be repeated. None of it can harm me. I find strength in the night because it reminds me of where I've come from, what I've endured and how much easier life will be from here on out and that's a thought I've never had before. I've always viewed my future to be better, different, but never easier. But it will be. Because my future gets to be what I want. That's it. Nothing else matters. And that's a beautiful thing. The night may haunt me, but it is my friend.

You Are Not What Happens To You.

Eight years ago today, I was sexually assaulted. I was taken advantage of by someone I thought I could trust. How silly of me. I was thirteen years old.
Seven years ago, I had my first flashback. I admitted to myself that it wasn't me, that it wasn't normal. What happened was real, and it is not OK. I diagnosed myself with PTSD and I told someone. I told a friend.
Four years ago, I uncovered my suppressed memories. I faced them head on and reopened all my closed wounds. I turned to my boyfriend at the time who turned out to be an abuser in his own way. He put me back together only to tear me open several times over.
Two years ago, I got drunk at a college party. A friend of a friend promised to take care of me. By that, he meant wait till I can't say no and take what no other girl would give him. He didn't get so lucky. I saw the signs and ran.
Six months ago, I realized every romantic relationship I've had has been wrong in some way. I used to believe there were things I was supposed to do in a relationship. Even if I felt uncomfortable I would tell myself that it's fine, I would get used to it. Everyone else did, right? Wrong. I always told myself that I could do much better than them, but I didn't want to. I didn't know what better could be. No one told me about the things I couldn't see.

Here I stand, eight years later, a fighter, a survivor, but not a victim. I have been though so much more than this one story. My scars run deeper than that one night on that one couch. My life is so much bigger than this story, this will not be what I am remembered for. 

This is how I will remind myself that I am more than a number, more than a story and more than a victim. In this life we choose. We decide who we are, how we live and maybe not what happens to us but we do decide how we recover, how we move on and who it makes us. 

This world is full of terrible things. There is no escaping it no matter how hard you try but I do not live in fear. 

Over the past eight years, I have overcome physical challenges and managed the pain, cast out my multiple abusers, lost countless friends and lost myself almost completely at times. Two weeks ago I graduated from college with a degree in engineering and vowed to start over. 

I am choosing to start over with a blank slate. Keeping in mind all that I've learned I will no longer let my past dictate my future. 

You are not what happens to you.