Note To My Subscribers

I wanted to take a moment and say thank you so much for your support. Writing is everything to me and it means even more to know that people enjoy and support my passion.

I wanted to take a moment to encourage you to go check out my older posts and entries. Just scroll to the bottom to the archives and let me know what you think.

There are entries of poetry, and even more vulnerable posts about motherhood, and dealing with my daughter’s mental illness, and autistic diagnosis.

Again, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of your support and love. And I look forward to continuing this journey with you.

Debra ❤

Poetic Epiphany

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Not a soul in the world knows her pain,

Not a soul in the world hears her scream.

Alone is a word she is comforted by.

It’s a familiarity.

The shivers of the cold world can not be shaken.

And she doesn’t need the blanket of a lie repetitively told.

If the runaway train continues to run,

She will not chase the tracks.

And she will bury herself amongst the most

loneliest of poets.

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Seeing Red..

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I see red in the faces,

Of strangers passing on the street.

And red in their shadows,

As they shuffle all their feet.

There’s red in the vomit,

That spews from their mouths.

And you can see the panic on their faces,

Knowing in this red cage, there is no way out.

I see red in the carnage,

This sad world leaves in its wake.

And I see red in its actions,

As it gives less than it takes.

You see red all around her,

Choking away her bright blue eyes.

No one hears, and no one sees her,

As the darkness muffles her cries.

I see red drip from her teeth,

As she claws through another day.

You see a pretty picture,

And then turn the other way.

I see red in the mystery,

Of what hides behind each smile.

And I see red in the blue skies,

As I climb on another mile.

Tip your hat and mask the splatter,

As you smear each smudge away.

Wipe the red lipstick you woke up in,

Freshen up and start the day.

See each red in all its glory,

Knowing the misery’s intact.

Live each day with every scar like a battle,

Lady warrior, loner, ready for war and the attack.

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I Am Here..

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I’ve been zoning out again, in my head, feeling inspired, or maybe it’s just pure stress. Either way, here I am. I find that during this time, could be a great time if you listen very closely to the small faint voices in your spirit, and all around you, for it to be possible to hear answers you were seeking, and sometimes didn’t even know you were seeking. It is also a time when you can replay your day, and deal with things you may have been putting off dealing with. A time for evaluation and soul stirring moments if you let it really soak in.

So, here I am.

On a day like today, it is so easy to droop down in your seat and feel sorry for yourself. However, it is sobering to instead, to look at yourself in the mirror and admit that you are not the best version of yourself. Try as you may, you may find that small blips of what you did or didn’t do have all but led you right here. But it’s also nice to know that as you look at yourself, as far as long-term relationships in your life, you have done all you can to solidify and reassure those, times two. And also have done everything you can to fully invest yourself into these relationships. And in recognizing that, it is important to reach a destination inside of that thinking and accepting that no matter what you want in a lot of those situations, sometimes goodbye is the last action needed, if a resolution still has not presented itself.

Profound right? Ha! So, what if these relationships are more complicated than just a simple goodbye? Like a last page you just can’t seem to turn so you can close the book.

But I regress. Because the truth is, we don’t ever really get back what we put out do we? I guess that if you are being selfless, then you really shouldn’t be expecting anything in return really.

I bite my tongue a lot. I sit back in my mind and am sometimes flabbergasted at the way people just spew out of their mouths the first vomit that chokes up, without ever considering that you may be standing on that cliff with only the back of your heels left planted on the edge because the weight of everything is leaning you forward. And, the wind is blowing you so brutally that you don’t really want to fight it much anymore. Maybe they don’t realize that the simple phone call you make to them in the middle of the workday, or the middle of the week, is your soul’s way of just trying to cry out to them. Just to say, I’m scared. I’m small. I’m feeling beat down. Or they post on social media things they don’t realize actually really hurt you. Or they don’t even call when it’s public knowledge that you are 100% not well. But people don’t think that way. Especially when it’s not them going through it. Humans are selfish and disgusting creatures.

You can feel them judging you. Why aren’t you working? Why are you doing this? Why aren’t you doing that? It’s so easy to do that isn’t it? To push those hurtful questions on someone who isn’t you. Especially when they truly will never know the extent of what you’re going through.

Or to think you know better for my child too because you think you could have done it better? Nah. In order to know exactly how everything would’ve turned out with you doing it instead, you would need to go back and live every moment. Starting from being the abused pregnant mom-to-be, to the abused new mom, all the way through each and every heartache your child went through, the bullying, rejections, watching your child be admitted into a mental ward and having to leave her there, the autism diagnosis, multiple mental health diagnosis’s since then, daily suicide talks, daily crying, cutting. Do you know what it’s like to have to go in your house and take every sharp object, or things that could be considered weapons, and any form of medications, buy a padlock, and lock everything up with a key? Or the horrible emptiness in a house the first week you bring them home from that hospital and what torment is trapped in your house? and I could go on and on. You absolutely can’t say you would do it differently or better unless you go back and live in every second of our lives, of my life. You just can’t.

Up until some people made me think different, I had always been thoroughly proud of the mother I was. Proud of coming through what I did and still loving and caring for my daughter unconditionally, always doing my best, although admittedly, it wasn’t much sometimes. A lot of kids that have mothers who have been through what I have, don’t get so lucky. So, I’ve always been proud of at least that small accomplishment. Well, at least until the past few years. At the end of each day, I have only tried to do the best I can with what I have. And I hope one day, my daughter is able to look at it that way and find a way to be proud of me.

You have to, especially if you are sick and limited to the amount of anger and emotional intake you are allotted each day, make the word acceptance a massive part of your everyday life. You have to really get to know yourself on a level you never dreamed of wanting to. Because in the end of each “middle of the night, hard day, faint voices, spirituality time,” it is inevitably you that you are there sitting with.

Personally, a lot of nights, being alone with me is hard. And that’s hard to describe. Because I absolutely don’t hate myself. I think no matter which way I went or roads I took, I would have ended in this same place, here, with myself. However, I want to make myself clear. I am unapologetically fucking sick. I don’t have to beg you to believe it, or care about how you feel about it anymore. I may live 100 more years, and I hope I do. But what a shame if I don’t? Well, shame for you, not me. I’ll be dead. (Insert wink)

One thing I do love about these new standards I’ve set, and these new lines I’ve drawn in the sand, is that I don’t have to settle anymore. I won’t limit myself to life-sucking friendships, drama, and complete two-faced bitchery and fakery! I can take my time and only accept people into my life whom I have things in common with, and who put just as much into things as I try to. A whole new story to write.

I am finally ready to rid myself of the outside bacteria that has long held me back. I don’t have to deal with it anymore. That is at least one think I can finally say I’m free from. And if you know me, that’s so huge.

So, everything else…over there!

And me, I am here….

Blood Type: Mass Chaos

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Insane in the name of patriotic progress, we shuffle to each location.

Crippling from the inside-out, and being watched by every nation.

A country full of rage and separation, and counting down to implosion,

Almost too lost to be saved, and our souls infected with erosion.

War-torn, and a spinning money-hungry fireball,

The Earth starts spinning in the opposite direction.

The clock is ticking away for the short time left to make amends,

Now starts the days of an insurrection.

The green grass turns brown, and the blue sky turns gray,

And this world offers no more unity.

A nation of talent and opportunities galore,

Every inch of it wasted and empty of a harmonious and capable community.

The volcanos will erupt, and the ground will shake profusely,

There will be no place left to run away,

The violent attacks will be delivered diffusely,

Like an upside down doomsday.

There will be no one to hear your cries,

Those you love will turn without hesitation,

Even the animals will weep as they watch the land die,

And as each human, one by one, give into damnation.