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Breaking Free Pt. 3

by Iiliana Williams 2 years ago in coping


Breaking Free Pt. 3

Last night (Monday night because when I went to try and post this I could not because Vocal was under maintenance) I got trapped in my own negativity, and what started my downward spiral of a thought process was how my mother wrote to me in a poem about how everything I was telling people after they kicked me out was a lie.

Let me clarify that my mother had an obnoxiously, obscenely good memory, so for her to not remember ANY of what I had told my god-mother (before I shut her out too because she was just a spy for my parents) really pisses me off because she "remembers everything." But here she is, magically not remembering every traumatizing moment of my life.

Obviously, this fills me with rage, so whenever it crosses my mind I become monstrous: I get really angry out of thin air, and usually lose all motivation for whatever I was doing or was going to do.

I think anger is the hardest emotion for me to cope with. Even now I still get the urge to self-harm whenever I get that angry, because forcing my body to release Adrenalin and (I think) Dopamine is the only way I know how to quickly calm myself down. That being said, it's been a year, two months, and 25 days since I last harmed myself. I'm so proud of this, and while I will always have the urge to self-harm, I don't think I will ever do it again. I'm no time traveler, but from my mindset now, that is true; I know shit happens sometimes, but I usually wait to cross that bridge until I arrive at it.

One of the things I have the hardest time remembering is that I am valuable, and I believe I've touched on this before.

I grew up being told I was a mistake and made to feel like a worthless piece of shit, and somehow all of that makes me "an ungrateful little cunt." (And yes, those words were actually said to me. It was the last thing my mother ever called me to my face. I cannot wait to get into that story in detail because FUCK I love telling that story from my perspective! My parents really tried to make me out to be the bad guy to my step family and my grandparents, but it backfired and now they look like assholes.) I was also told that my leftover mascara in the morning made me look like a "crack-whore." Yes, you read that correctly.

(To once again interrupt this with my thoughts: this is therapeutic for me, I'm finding the positivity in all of this, and this is slightly humorous for me because I know how "What the Fuuuck?!" all of this must be for those who haven't experienced anything like this. I know, this shit's crazy.)

I also struggle with self-image, but I've never liked the way I look. I feel pretty when I have makeup on but was never told I didn't need makeup. My mother encouraged my discomfort with myself by only complimenting me when I wore makeup and tight clothing. I still only feel confident in makeup, and I honestly don't know if that will ever change. But I still feel like a beautiful person on the inside: I'm nice to everyone, it’s almost physically impossible for me to be mean to someone who hasn't earned it, I'm there for anyone who needs a shoulder to cry on or a hand to hold, and I don't take out my toxic feelings out on anyone. I'm genuinely a nicer person than my mom ever taught me to be; she wanted me to hate everyone and everything because she believed that was the way life should be lived.


I am definitely trying to post everyday, but other things do come up and I'm still looking for a job.

My sincerest apologies for not getting this one out sooner, but shit happens and I have to roll with the punches.

I may start an Instagram where I post images that Vocal won't let me because of the sizing issues, but I haven't decided yet. I'll let y'all know in the next post if I do.

Iiliana Williams
Iiliana Williams
Read next: Never In the Cover of Night
Iiliana Williams

I was a doll:

I wanted to live, I wanted to feel love, and be loved. I'm learning to live and learning how I want to live and who I want to be because as a doll, I never got to make those decisions for myself.

And my first choice was freedom.

See all posts by Iiliana Williams