sometimes it takes a little creativity and a leap of faith to convey meaning through cat emojis
it has been a really great couple of weeks and i’ve felt happy and whole in ways that i don’t think i’ve ever felt before. but tonight i feel sad again. and i keep having to remind myself that pain is okay. i can be in pain and still be happy. i can have all these complicated feelings of grief and loss and still be excited about the future. life is more than one thing.
F, April 12; 12:29p
this auditorium feels holy;
more than the tiny blue couch
or the only group of people who knows the Truth,
even more than the tears themselves.
sitting in these chairs has healed me—
this space is Mine.
& Alice’s.
& all the Women-in-Between’s
that fought to give us a voice
and listened hard when we found it.
listen: you’ll hear and heal, too
if you see me wandering the windswept moors and highlands in nothing but a nightgown plastered to my skin with rain, wailing and wringing my hands as i stumble over the already mud-trodden hem, i ask that you do NOT approach. i will be FINE. i just need to work through some stuff & be dramatic first. please respect that.
(via queen-of-the-fucking-goblins)
today i said out loud for the first time “i think he’s a person now instead of a villain” and there is still so much hurt, but i think i remembered how to love him, too
& in therapy today i said some of the hurts i’ve held onto for years without telling anyone else. and while they’re not less hurtful, they’re less unimaginably scary
& i feel free in ways i never have before
& i want you to know that healing isn’t easy or fast, but it is possible. you don’t have to hold onto your hurts all alone forever. there are people who will carry them with you and teach you how to hold them. you can be free
every time i think something inside of me has healed or found forgiveness, something else slips and breaks. i don’t know how i’ll ever live a life untouched by him.
but he also feels so far away, like he’s holding onto some hate for me, too. maybe that’s what hurts the most: not that i never got to confront him, but that he never had the time to forgive me
googling “how to destroy a ring” like some sort of reluctant hero in a fantasy series
spending my valentine’s day with heretic pride
just listening to “up the wolves” and “no children” before therapy and idk if there was ever a better image of my mental health
something inside of me exists
pulsing, waiting to break
like it remembers how
from a past life when
i was small and innocent
bad nostalgia rotting
the joints where I bend
to accommodate the vastness
of ever loving you
