Hello! My pen-name for this is Roxy Wolf. Not using my real name due to personal reasons. One day that may change. This is part of my journey to healing & learning to use my voice. I hope this helps others know they're not alone.
Reliving the past
Yesterday while I was meditating I was unable to clear my space and instead of finding relaxation I re-lived moments from my past relationship all of them blending together like a violent home video montage. My brain and I argue over what actually happened or if we just dreamt it.
Fear. Such a small word but it carries so much power. It can be the difference between taking a chance and making a change or staying in the same ritualistic pattern your entire life. Fear has held me in its arms since I was a small child. Don’t speak. Don’t cry. Be silent and just let it happen. Fear. Fear kept me from calling out to my brother not even ten feet away. Fear kept me from telling my grandparents that I didn’t want to spend the night at my friend’s house. Fear kept me from telling my parents. Fear. It can be such an ugly thing. Fear kept me silent even after the man who’d made me afraid was in prison. Fear for those who I loved. Fear for not being believed. Fear of what had happened to be voiced out. Fear that it would become more real. Fear still holds me in its arms some nights. It rocks my trembling body and whispers terrors into my ears, still. Still, after all these years I have so much fear.
Habits are hard to break
I’m sorry. Knee-jerk reaction for a lot of people is to say stop saying sorry, you have nothing to be sorry for but in the back of some people’s heads there’s the voice that says “oh, I’ll give you something to be sorry about.” Or when you speak out and share your opinion on something or speak up for yourself against something there’s that natural inclination to say sorry because we as women are supposed to cognizant of other people’s feelings. We’re supposed to bear that weight in mind before we speak.
The Clausen Cabin
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It was a foggy cold evening in November, gusts of wind and rain were coming from the north and the campers were packing their materials and tents away to escape the incoming storm when they heard the screeching inhuman sounds echo through the night.
I may not have my children here on earth with me but I am a mother. I carry them with me in my heart and they walk through life with me. I have a memorial tattoo on my left foot that represents people I have lost through flowers. I have four blue forget me nots that represent my children. Sadly, I have more flowers to get tattooed on my body. My other foot a blank canvas soon to be covered in beauty of more people who are no longer here with me but who will continue to walk through this life with me.