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Beautiful Disaster

by Cadma 6 months ago in recovery

A sweetie pie with fire in her eyes

Photo by Steve Azzara

Regardless of being naturally born with fire in her eyes, she preserved her flames for what was deemed flammable while maintaining her essence to be a sweetie pie. Her life was no glass staircase. Her life had rotten peaches in her pie. During her childhood, she felt repressed and misrepresented by those around her and whom raised her. The home front was a prestigious model for observers who either did not see the tribulations in the home or simply chose to ignore it. Genuine kindness was a rarity. The torn observations of parental loyalty while watching them destroy each other; leaving behind a dark impression of love.

Her childhood taught her to smile from the pain. She taught herself how to mind her surroundings. She learned to speak up for herself even when no body cared to listen. Her strength came from being born in half darkness and half light. Her strength came from her pain. Teaching yourself and others how to withstand and stand. Being a focal point for groups of bullies; because single ones could not knock her down. Verbal taunts from peers. A prominent child for no other reason than being profoundly different from their peers. Her fire was strong and she never how cleansing the fire could be; nor how painful the fire could be.

Watching in the distance she stood up to oppressors, judging laments and angry souls looking to break something to their level. Homelessness, abuse, disowned, re-owned, taunted, tempted, cheated on, rejected, neglected, abandoned, loneliness, almost killed, suicide, rape, overwhelmed, anxiety, depression and joined in holy matrimony to her loquacious inner demons; she is the questionable epiphany.

Hours spent with the lesser fortunate souls permitted her to learn from them and reach out to light their candle in her flames. She too understood the dark and knew her way around without any light. Moments of being dressed up as young as two years old but not allowed to slide off the couch. Growing up with a strange perception of death and watching how the death of children can destroy a mother’s mindset; especially when the concept of a utopian household looms around like arrogant mockery. No one truly spoke to you about death; that high level of exposure to it altered your perception of it and lack of fear of it. You held your dead sisters body after a broken mind told you to hold her as if she was alive. Her infant cyanotic skin seemed strange but you had never seen a dead baby nor held one. The mental registration of when encouraged to kiss your sleeping sister and partially not understanding why her body was cold. How everything in your life was dramatically exacerbated after her death. The holidays that represented love became a day of cemetery visits, cakes and candles to hopefully the right listening spirit. The presence and absence of the male figure never truly trying and deeply concerned for other family members and their household opposed to their own. You fended for yourself as you paid for your father’s sins.

I was there when you were raped. You scrubbed your skin until it hurt enough to bleed in spots. I watched societal rape culture treat you as a weak victim and called you an unlovable harlot; due the budding experience of unwanted men. I watched the fear build up of what would become of you psychologically and the work you put into yourself to heal yourself in a healthy matter. Rape became the topic to mock you as a harlot by those who blamed the victim. Alone in your cimmerian hell, you kept the names of your mockers and remember them in the book of your heart; while vowing to overcome. You struggled to feel human. You struggled to feel safe after one of the rapist’s mother lied to officers about seeing you. Every day outside running exhausting errands was a stricken terror because you described the house with the steps, with the apartment upstairs, the living room to the right, a long hallway where the mother was, a bedroom connected to the living room, the ruckus of noise and the mother seeing me long enough to see your face; sure she told him something about you being there where he threw you out the car on a corner.

Children are an absconded concept even failed accidental ones. Gravid with grief but determined to grieve healthier than the trail of lost siblings you watched. Ruined holidays over an unbalanced grieving process to support your mother while she mentally deteriorated before your eyes. The secrets held behind a fabricated smile deteriorate you but you wake up with the intention to heal. Empty holidays and tested parental loyalty groomed your lack of interest in what is “normal”.

Suicide was a tenebrous game of happenstance. Miscalculations, unknown people intervening and salvation pushes through darkness; because exhaustion on a soulful level is damning to the heart when life seems like an etch & sketch. Yet regardless of your reluctance to get out of bed; you open your eyes and stand.

Bullies built by the dozen but your tribulations left you unfazed by them. You continued to go on. Love deemed unreliable in your heart and a warning of glittering generalities. The societal comatose façade you perform to hide your struggles and you become your own support system; which is not the same as having one. Your nightmares of being raped taunted your childhood but you learned to dominate your nightmares.

You monitored your own mental health and read psychology books from middle school with goals to master & help your mommie. College was not in focus because survival has a priority over education. A trusted individual knowing of your history waited until you were asleep; and one day you woke up in the midst of it. Verbally told by both units you were disowned so you took care of yourself. You discovered unhealthy methods of living but you were never going to crawl back. The only death that broke you were the death of your two cats because they witnessed all and protected you.

Accident puts you out of commission while stuck with clogged eared medical professionals ignoring your needs and running up your part time benefits until depleted. You taught yourself how to walk again. You conditioned your body and your weakening mind to move forward. Giving up was the easy path but if unplanned saviors saved your life ruining personal intentions; it left you with no other choice but to work hard and try both ideas again. The sugar of your essence to others came from the poison put inside of you that deemed your history unbelievable that you were still a sweetie pie.

The fire within you burns brighter in darkness and could outshine the sun. You regenerate when broken down against your own will. Your fire keeps you warm at night, cooks the meals for your soul & blazes in front of your enemies. You built from within to be your own four cardinal elements and no one is allowed to enter your fortress. You were your Grandmother Spider bringing the sun to see in the dark. The fire in your eyes dim sometimes from exhaustion but you must not let your fire extinguish from within. Days are cold without it and much like Amaterasu the world will die without it; come from your cave and shine. You created your own company and although you struggle it is yours and carries your good intentions. You returned to school to dominate your goals.

I watched you at every memory, at every laugh, at every tear, at every fabricated smile, at every authentic smile, at every “mental check out”, at every lesson and each time we stared at each other in the mirror I wanted to tell you that you are loved from within, you are forgiven from within, it’s not all your fault, you didn’t ask for this, you are tough, you didn’t deserve everything given to you and most importantly keep the fire burning within you. We do not go gently into the good night. Your strength is what you had, what you learned and what preserves you. Although, you can not see your reflection in the dark just know I know I love you and for all you have endured and survived.

Perhaps you would have never believed how your life would unfold over the years but it will be okay. Never let the coyotes steal the sun you make.

recovery

Cadma

A sweetie pie with fire in her eyes

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