sexual assault

Just because it’s difficult, doesn’t mean it’s bad.

The theme of this week, this year even, it seems…is difficult conversations. Things that have never needed to be said, yet need saying anyway. This has been a week of confrontation, but not in a bad way. Difficult conversations, gentle confrontation, a resist to the natural reaction of me running away… It’s all hard. It …

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Do the broken parts always stay broken?

Does it exist? Is there hope, or potential, or even the slightest, most remote possibility that this part of me can ever be healed? Shit, healed is a stretch. I’d be elated with functional. This part of life shouldn’t hurt. The part where someone who is safe and loving…loves you. You shouldn’t be afraid. You …

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When words don’t define you…even though they might.

I hate committing to words. I always have. I don’t have depression, I’m just fucked up. Or, I don’t have trauma, everyone goes through this shit. “I wasn’t sexually assaulted. And I definitely wasn’t raped. Recently, or for years on end in past “relationships”. I’m not suicidal, I just want to die sometimes. (I don’t …

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When physical touch makes you cringe

Every…however often it is…things seems to feel worse. The shift is subtle, and usually, no one would be able to tell. But there’s one area where the shift becomes incredibly blatant and apparent. I don’t smile, I don’t want to be touched, I’m not going to pretend to be happy for your benefit…I’m exhausted all …

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Dear alcohol and the one who thinks he owns me,

Tonight you won. Really, your battle began this morning. I’m wiped, I’m exhausted, and I’m hurt. So this will be short. I struggle to defeat you. It feels laughable to even consider it a possibility. Defeat may not, may never be a choice…..but perhaps an occasional victory could be? Tomorrow I’ll face the physical demons …

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Sometimes we all need to pause and take a breath

Earlier this week my (almost) 5 year old said something really meaningful to me. It was nearing bedtime, by far the most stressful part of the day for me. Neither him nor my (almost) 3 year old were listening particularly well, and I was definitely starting to get frustrated with them. My son recognized that …

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