Facing the Fear That Drove Me
I do not remember when you first arrived in my life. Sometime between the death of my mother and the first time my father beat me, you took up residence in my rib cage. My protector, you swept in—deigning to save me from a punishing world where those who should have loved me stole my safety and dignity for the smallest of mistakes. I want to invite you to explore a new world with me.
I have so much compassion for you, Fear. We were six years old and trying to save my life, keep belts off my skin, keep my bones in all their rightful places. That was too big a task. After all, you were only a child. We have been carrying that weight all these years.
Since your arrival, you have been the hardest worker I have ever known, immersing yourself in the endless pursuit of being good—good enough. To achieve this, you developed rigorous standards by scrutinizing our environment—books, conversations, and examples—to determine who I needed to be. You made creative decisions to help me meet your standards. Rest was never an option—no days spent snuggling under the covers in bed.
I see how you believed in my ability to improve, grow, and, in doing so, become safe.
Thank you for your relentless dedication to keeping us safe. Your vigilance was born in a time when even the smallest mistakes had devastating consequences—when safety, food, and dignity were bartering chips.
When you came into my life, minor mistakes could jeopardize our safety—our bones, food, and identity—by those who should have loved us. You were only a child, so you believed them when they said that working harder would set us free and being better would keep us safe. You remain frozen in that place of trauma, still fighting battles that no longer exist. But while you have fought without rest, I have grown. It’s time for me to take the reins and chart a fresh path for both of us.
I know the truth now–nothing we did could have made us safer. When the world wants to hurt you, nothing you do can prevent that. Life doesn’t require avoiding or defeating every evil. The beauty, the fun, and the love exist despite the darkness and the pain.
My friend, you fear ceding your role, but I can keep us safe in more constructive ways these days. I’m not asking you to leave, Fear, but to transform. Your vigilance has served its purpose; now it can help us create something beautiful together.
The thread connecting me to my father, his monstrosity, and his humanity, is you, a product of his fallible human self. It’s time to release this thread, this legacy of fear passed down through generations.
It’s time to let you rest and take on a new role—one that turns us toward the sun, to the beauty and peace already around us. A role where you still search, scan, and look, but now use your creativity to help me thrive.
The new title: The Persistent Pursuit of Joy. I want you to seek the moments in life made of sweetness, brightness, and abundance—like the sun on my skin, my grandmother holding my hand as she tells me she loves me, or my husband kissing my forehead while I sleep. Use your creativity to find more joy, ease, and love. Place me in the sunshine so I can open my ribcage and fill my whole chest with the warm glow. Help me notice the beauty I’ve overlooked while trapped in the past.
Through your relentless protection, I survived, but through letting you evolve, I will thrive. Fear—or should I call you your new name, Pursuit—I am so excited to embark on this new journey with you.
Together, we will lie down the burdens of the past and step into a life filled with joy, peace, and possibility.

Style Score: 100%, Spelling 100%, Grammar 100%

What is a book?
Is it just a collection of letters,
Sorted into words,
Arranged into sentences,
Grouped into paragraphs,
Bundled into chapters,
Bound together by a central theme?
If that’s the case,
Then I’ve written a book.
A couple, actually.
But it doesn’t feel like it.
My books are digital only.
That’s the way to go these days,
Isn’t it?
Print is dead, right?
Then why do I feel as if
I have NOT written a book?
Maybe I’m just being foolish,
But I want more.
I want my book to occupy space
On my bookshelf
Next to the fireplace.
I want to be able to read the title and my name
On the spine of the book as it is
Nestled in the bookshelf,
Uncomfortably squeezed literally and literarily
Between classics like Ulysses and Moby Dick.
I want to physically hold the book
And curl up in a comfy chair with it.
I want to riffle through the pages,
Creating a breeze I can feel on my face.
I want the tactile experience of the printed word,
As I rub a page between my thumb and forefinger.
I want a book that can be ruined
Should a page be torn from it.
I want a book that has some staying power,
Whether on a shelf or in a storage box gathering dust,
While the owners forget what’s inside.
I no longer want my book to be only a digital file
That can be deleted with a click on a trash bin icon
Or lost forever at the next hard drive crash.
I want a sense of permanence for my book.
At least I want it to outlast me.
Perhaps this may be a flight of vanity.
I prefer to think of it more as a legacy
That proves I was here,
That I had thoughts,
And that I recorded them for posterity.
For those reasons and others,
I will publish a book in print this year.
I will riffle the pages
And breathe in the smell of the newly printed paper.
Then I will place my book on my bookshelf.

My goals in 2025 include healing and allowing myself to move forward. Here is my poem of hope.

Can you take an axe
A pick or a maul
And hollow a space in the stone the width and breadth of two
And I will use the hand plane and the lumber and I will use bolts and braces
To fashion a door for the hollow
Latch it
Strongly.
Once we are both inside,
And the world is fully outside
We will cry the racking sobs that have nowhere else to go
Held back fourteen years and some
Odd months or so
When we emerge
You will be iron and I will be alloy
And the sun will warm us
And can you
If you are able
Undo the lashings holding this pack
It is heavily filled and spills over
With sorrow and regret
Causing me to stoop
Can you if not such an imposition
If you have the strength
Help me drop it in the river
Then
We will build a table of oak and maple
And we will set it with all good things
And eat our fill of it
Til joy happiness mirth and innocence
Are the only things we can hear ringing in the forest

Wow…it’s already 2025…
Yet my brain still feels like 2020
Is shifting into a winter’s breeze
Welcoming us into a New Year’s kiss
And a hopeful embrace hidden in the folds
Of snowy blankets stretching out once again… I wonder

Will this year be kinder to us?

The onslaught of tears pool in my eyes
My throat tightens, and my hands grow cold
Yet they won’t fall.
…because you wouldn’t want that…
Locking myself in the past would do me no good.

I can hear you now…
“You’re a writer, aren’t you?”
…Telling me to write about it. (Is this what you meant?)

I remember you asking me
for a new story (I’ll get to it…I swear!) …
Just like you once asked me for longer hair…
To take better care of myself…
And to see what you saw in me…

You amazed me…
Your warm smile, generous heart
And brightening soul…accepting me without an ounce
of your blood running through my veins.

I’ll take your words to heart
And start believing in myself
Just like you did until
I see what you see within
The mirror you gave me.

And yeah…I might as well try to finish that novel.
It’s 2025 after all…new year, new me?
Hopefully, I’ll believe in myself enough
To submit it this time
Just for you, so I can grow…
To be at least a bit like you come 2026
That is my goal.

For 23 years I have been a lube tech and I have been a REALLY GOOD ONE, I have been driven and focused and Was told I’m REALLY GOOD, but I wanted more for my family and I knew when I started this I could do more but I would find a REASON to not move up and my Mom encouraged me and NOW my wife has INSPIRED ME, well after my mom passed away and a job I thought I could do backfired , after 24 years I’m going back to where I started but this time as PDI TECH, and I’m not going to Lie, I’m scared, but My wife and now Angel momma inspiring me, I have ONE LAST RUN in me and I’m going to make my family ALL PROUD of me, but MOSTLY MYSELF, IM GOING TO MAKE MYSELF PROUD and I WILL WIN AND I WILL WIN.PH4:13 I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me

2025 is going to be My year, sadly my mom passed away December 22nd and We ARE ALL STUNNED, but my Mom taught us TO NEVER GIVE , she taught me that NOTHING IS TOO SMALL for me to accomplish it, I just have to go after it, so my goals this year to ENJOY LIFE, smile and CHERISH EVERY MOMENT, there’s good if we look for it( just like bad) I am NOT GOING TO COMPLAIN about the guy cutting me off or losing a football game online, my other goal is Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, I have always been told I CAN’T DO SOMETHING, you should try smaller, well I don’t believe that, I believe I have to give my all and I at least TRIED, ( I would rather try and lose rather than to Never try at all) So this year I plan on being MORE POSITIVE and Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade is the ONLY PARADE, I want to be in this year. Stay positive and remember Luke 1:37 For with God nothing shall be impossible

Another year is knocking,
But I am not ready to answer.
Don’t they know rebirth doesn’t happen in winter?

I am still unbecoming.
I am still busy undoing.
My bones are still tired.
I don’t feel like pursuing.

I will leave the Christmas tree up.
I will continue to rest.
I had to learn this the hard way:
There’s no use trying to be best.

I do not plan to start anew.
I do not wish to have a goal.
I will not write out things to do,
Or make a vision board of it all.

I have done enough.
I saved more than money.
I saved my life a few times
And still haven’t tasted honey.

It is not me who needs to be sweeter.

I do not need to be better.
It is the years who need to be better to me.

Keep going, the theme of 25
We didn’t think we’d make it, past 25, let alone to 2025.

Keep going.

A Goal is nothing without a plan.
2024 was spent planning,
2023 was spent learning,
2025 is filled with goals

Goal 25,
Be around more people.
Goal 24,
Advocate for me more.
Goal 23,
Make more memories.
Goal 22,
Learn freedom without a car.
Goal 21,
Finish my book.
Goal 20,
Make amends.

Keep going.
Goal Post 25.

But remember,
Life is the journey, not the destination.
Allow the goalpost to change and give yourself grace in the face of it all.

Goal Post 25

I stand battered and bruised just for a moment. Turn to face my reality from where I just came. To stare at a monstrous land. A landscape full of dark, gnarly woods. Swamps of tar that boil and sputter. Thorns are ready to pierce the flesh. Full of shadowy creatures that lie to grab anyone in their path.

This land that I have created from an enormous imagination. For my fears give it fuel to thrive. Fears through every stage of life. One fear from childhood is of not being loved. Where it was said three magic little words. There was no amount of action behind those words. All in extreme opposite of your loving home.

A fear from adolescence is of abandonment. Have been denied in public and denounced as a daughter. My grandmother who gave her last breath. Being left behind and all alone. Another would simply be atelophobia. Multiple regrets as the past rears its ugly head from young adulthood. The most gut wrenching fear is losing my sanity again. Where all my nightmares come to play with me. My fears rule supreme in my very core.

Fear generates its evil intent. To destroy peace of mind, even your self-worth. How is it? That I have made it thus far? I must truly appreciate my family and trusted friends. Who shown me a love that I can trust. To those who were patient with me. Strangers that were kind. Loved ones who saw my struggle but believed in me. I must not let them down. Fight instead of flight just to be whole.

My faith has always given me hope. A hope that overcomes the fear and stills my pounding heart. By realizing my truth. That I am no longer a victim but a survivor of circumstance. Noticing events were out of my control. I stopped blaming myself. Determination was a major player in taking back my power.

As I look back over that treacherous terrain. I realized how I managed fear through it all. By carrying on my journey through life. I turn away to face a gargantuan mountain called healing. Towards an astonishing new horizon. My journey from this point onward begins anew.

Eternal Sunshine of the spotless mind
In all this world leave all behind
In faintest whispers the promise speaks
To haunt the mind when the heart is weak

Where love and loss collide and crash
And aching torment forever dashed
Against desperate cries in the broken soul
No respite found the longing grows

A slate wiped clean no more to hear
In constant dreams to shed that fear
In sight of tears cascading free
The reminder gone no more to see

Erase the thoughts to free the soul
The ties that bind the sadness whole
In all this world leave all behind
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind

I don’t have to be anyone but myself.
This year, I am reassessing my goals and balancing ambition with rest.
I will look into the mirror, meet my own eyes with grace, and declare, “I am enough.”
In 2025, I will walk boldly, my hands open to possibility, spreading seeds of love wherever I’m planted.
Friendships will bloom like wildflowers, beautiful and unexpected.
I will chase justice with steady feet.
Though I am among many, I will be a beacon, a lighthouse in a storm, lighting the way for others to feel seen, to feel safe.
I will live fearlessly, propelling forward with purpose, even when the ground shifts beneath me, even when I am unsure of my next step.
I will change my mindset, shifting from fear to freedom.
I will choose myself as an act of healing, a soft rebellion against the urge to shrink.
This year, I will be safe and comfortable in my own company, without judgment, without apology.
At the end of every day, I will ask only, “Do I approve of me?”
2025 will not be perfect, but it will be rooted, honest, abundant.
This year, I am becoming my favorite self—whole, fearless, healed—a life in bloom, rooted in acceptance.

Make reservations for a weeknight,
at the new restaurant in the next town over,
where they serve drinks in silly plastic bath tubs
with rubber ducks floating on curaçao-blue bath water
and the smoke from searing cuts of steak
perfumes the couples in corner booths:
L’eau de garlic.

Call in sick when the sun rises,
and I’ve not gone to bed,
kept awake through the witching hours by
the tale of a land where there are still dragons
and a knight who falls for the lady
with a skilled sword hand and
a sharp tongue.

Turn off my cell phone and
spend twenty unmoving minutes
in front a pond that Monet painted
until my eye lose focus
and the light tricks them into seeing
ripples move around the waterlilies.

Lay on the rocks that line the water’s edge
where the sound of the waves rises and falls
like breathing,
while the sun warms my back
as if I were a lounging lizard,
rather than a woman
with responsibilities.

Why does every new year
come with the pressure
to reinvent myself
through resolutions?

What if my only goal this year
is to be authentically me?
Or what if it is to laugh
until my sides hurt?
Or to stop and notice
the little things that bring joy?

What if I don’t become
someone else this year
and just enjoy the beauty
of all that I already am?
What if I don’t give in
to the pressure?

Adulting
Last year was here to support me,
This year is here to let me go.
Last year came with unimaginable pain,
This year approaches me with surprises and rewards.
Between I want to stay, but I know I better leave.
‘You’re a quarter, 25!’ they say, but forgotten by twenty-six.
‘As this year goes by its going to be exciting!’ but nothing is ever going to be the same.
Nobody said mourning the past was going to feel so weird, but
eager for what’s to come this year.
100% done on the original goal I’ve had for years.
Graduating in May,
Becoming an aunty by August,
Having the honor to say, ‘I got accepted to universities!’ and wondering which one I’ll choose.
Slowly maturing and leaving the nest.
Adulting before my very own eyes.
Perhaps a bottle of Wine & Moscato instead of Tequila this year.

In the dawn of a new year’s light,
I set my sights, my heart takes flight.
With resolutions bright and bold,
Three goals unfold, like stories told.

First, to shed the weight I bear,
To dance with ease, to breathe fresh air.
A journey paved with low-cal meals,
And every step, the joy reveals.

Next, a book where laughter flows,
A collection of columns, where humor grows.
Each word a spark, each line a cheer,
Sharing my wit, bringing joy near.

Last, a moment for prayer each day,
In quietude, I’ll find my way.
To nurture the soul, in peace I’ll dwell,
In gratitude, my heart will swell.

So here’s to goals, both big and small,
To rise with purpose, to heed the call.
With laughter, health, and faith in view,
This new year’s promise, I’ll see it through.