When I was a child, the word most often applied to me was shy. Not true. I simply enjoyed watching. Everything. Every night, I would write in my book, a book I had liberated from my father’s store. An order book. Lines and spaces. I could print very well by the age of five so I considered myself a writer because what I printed looked just like the books I read.

Writing has been my best friend since childhood. My bedroom window opened onto a gigantic oak tree with a notch I would climb into once I got rid of my parents, an easy task since they were people who did not necessarily want children. Before therapy became the response to those of us who were non-conformists, and journaling became the go-to for all forms of wretchedness or well-being, I held readings from my book about what I had seen, what my dreams were, and who was mean. My audience was the man in the moon, the stars, the trees, whomever or whatever else was out there. Always a friendly crowd. I still have memories of my father trying to calm my screaming mother when they found me out there in the morning, asleep.

My “formal” writing started with messages stuffed into my father’s empty whiskey bottles, rare commodities since he was a shot-with-dinner guy, and I would set them free in the ocean across the street. I also had my notes to Santa which I stashed in milk bottles my mother left in a container that sat on the doorstep because I heard the delivery man was Catholic and, therefore, a Santa person. I learned that connection in Hebrew school. I was raised in an Orthodox Jewish family, so the Santa-et-al thinking, along with the bacon my mother stashed in a Tupperware container she labeled “broccoli” in our highly kosher refrigerator, were early signs that I was destined to live a life of creative non and real fiction. I also wrote my own (fabulous) absence notes for school since my mother had withdrawn from a great deal of parenting. Apparently, no one read them or perhaps they knew our lives.

I immersed myself in A-level papers throughout the thousands of years I spent gathering degrees and debt. Eventually, and at times simultaneously, I produced ardent and (hopefully) articulate political protest letters (an ongoing effort), sold some short stories, and even built a life in New York publishing. Prose was my go-to and then, after a ten-year silence brought on by wars private and other, poetry emerged. The shy girl now has two voices.
Carl Jung says that each one of us carries the collective, so I now consider my writing an a cappella chorus. Does anyone else find it funny that the quiet one is now the mouthpiece? My father the gangster is out there laughing somewhere. He always introduced me as the jail-house lawyer to be. Maybe he was a visionary.
Now my title is psychotherapist. People tell me stories all day. For more than thirty years I have been listening to stories. I tell people to keep “talking” no matter the form: Write. Paint. Dance. Grow flowers. Bake. Fold the sheets on your bed as neatly as you want or don’t want. Keep magazines that are 10 years old because you like the memories. House neat, house messy – you need to feel satisfied. Shame is given to you by others. Happy is given to you by you. You decide how much or how little you need the words of others to bring you joy or peace or laughter as much as that bad brownie you baked or the new purple stripe in your hair.

Yes, there are boundaries, and, yes, there are rules. Find your space (mine was in a tree) and celebrate the life you make. Tree notches are everywhere.

No more hiding little bird it’s time to fly

No more crying little bird wipe your eyes

Yes you’ve died little bird, but from dust, you rise

So they’ve lied little bird let karma reverse the tied

She was mine little bird, but only for a moment in time

You’re not alone little bird open your heart, open your eyes

Seasons change little bird so don’t worry walk with pride

You are a light little bird

You are a sight little bird

You are dynamic and you exist in multiple realms

Though you started this journey with fear, baggage, and feeling lost you are found.

Custody doesn’t change your impact on her life

You are Mother

You are Warrior

You are Queen

So delight little bird for you are a Phoenix Rising

The Master Key

Art is a critical piece for sure, mindset, movement, so much more. The master key is enjoying life no matter how you feel

The journey real
Each breath we take
Out we give
We make mistakes

Perfectly imperfect
In so many ways
Seeing ourselves
Moving through the days

Hell in our minds
We have a choice
Breathe out
Choose to rejoice

The gift is here
For you and me
Here lies the treasure
Of ultimate peace

Forgive and let go
Look in the mirror and say
I love you
Each and every day

Perspectives we have
Each special for sure
Sharing physical space
Each in a virtual world

The gift of pain
Drives presence awake
Opportunities to rise
Time to intake

The Masters have shown
So many ways
Pathways illuminate
In darkness we find the rays

For each who seeks
The answers are inside
Your hearts compass
Is a true guide

Into the unknown
With courage step forth
Choose to forgive
Choose to thank

Ultimate forgiveness
For all that forsake
This is the way
To open the gate

The gate of the mind
Way to uptake
The beauty of life
Choose and unlock destinies fate

Dear world,
The message I’m sending to you today may sound indelicate, abrasive even, and I sincerely apologize for that. I’m a part-time people pleaser trying to unlearn the more negative aspects of that personality dynamic, one of which is the notion that people should be kept happy AT ALL TIMES. That being said, I will forewarn you that my message may not make you feel happy,, but I promise you, it will bring you joy- that joy which is an abiding and abundant reality, always awaiting our approach, deliberately desiring our determined efforts to dwell within its keep.

The only way through to this true joy, requires the swallowing of a veritable buffet of what at first glance appear to be bitter pills- the first of which is the fact that you will suffer and you will die. When you swallow this truth, you free yourself from fear and despair. Suffering has the potential to be our most powerful teacher, and it can become a friend, if we are brave enough to reach out a hand. Now get me wrong, I don’t want to encourage you to intentionally seek out opportunities to get hurt or to cause suffering for others. What I mean is, suffering may be inevitable, but we can choose to transform its energy within us to strengthen ourselves and to bring that same gift of healing to the world around us as well.

Depending on how we approach the wounds we bear, we can choose to shape a future of growth and evolution. Through the shattering capabilities of grief, loss, and evil, we can learn to truly appreciate the beauty of life. That is the balancing act, seeking gratitude for life despite its myriad challenges and afflictions. We have the power to transform our hurts into growing pains.
Although, we can just as easily turn them our slowing pains. These wounds can fester and rot, weighing us down with crushing regret. What makes the difference between the two outcomes? How do we choose the better way?

We must summon the courage to swallow the bittersweet pill. I found it through writing and being still. Now I’d like to share (bear with me if you will). More words onto this page are ready to spill. Watch now how they turn to a poem. I pray they may help steer you back home.

Yo, is it true? Do I have the world’s ear?

Then the first words I’d disperse would be about fear.
Our greatest nemesis; it lives in the mirror,
Love alone beats it and can help you see clear, And without love, living’s so cavalier.

It’s hard to believe that…

The mere marvel of living, of your being here,
Can be so easily swiped up and stolen within fear’s hostile grip,
It’s right at your feet now, tryin’ and lyin’ to make you trip,
It tells you you’re tiny, an insignificant drip.

Just a
drop
in the sea.

That’s a lie, an illusion, a thought we must flee.
It’s a curse, a delusion, and we’re born just to be,
Something much greater, Dig deep and you’ll see,
That you are surely a drop
But of your own degree,
And that makes you much more,
In fact, that sets you free.

You must believe that…

There’s a little bit of you in every me,
There’s a little bit of sadness in every glee,
An infinite universe in each little inch of a tree,
A little bit of bitter coupled with every sweet.

And once you start to believe that…

You’ll come to see…

We’re shaped for our spot, and where we stay to our zone,
You’ll find in those “ruins,” that you sit on a throne.
Not just the word,
But the meaning inside it,
Abide now in peace, ever beside it.
Let the words guide you, as you grow on your way,
Let them reveal themselves like the light of new day.
Now gently breaking, now a luminous bloom,
This presence now here that could fill up a room.

The power of healing lies in each word you lay,
To learn where love’s leading, let there be no delay,
It’s calling your name, to be bold if I may,
Here’s what you have, and here’s what I pray:

You hold in your hands one moment, one day,
And I pray you’ll unfold the wonder within it, That you’ll embrace the buffet,

And in those moments of sorrow, when living looms grey,
Let the love that still lingers reshape you like clay.
Feel the power of love’s fingers arranging a novel array.

Your greatest teacher and your greatest friend lives still in the wallows, in the shattered remains of your heart,
And that broken heart within you isn’t the end,
love, it’s the start.

Dear World,

It’s hard to choose my most impactful life lesson, as I’ve had plenty thus far. Sometimes, I feel as if my lessons up until this point could fit into an entire lifetime for someone else. I know they’ve all been necessary for my evolution because I believe a significant reason our souls are here is to learn, grow, and evolve into a wiser version of ourselves.

Adversity in life can diminish us to ashes, but we can choose to rise into a more empowered state. Multiple moments in my life have felt like the death of my old self and the rebirth of a new version of me.

I’ve learned the importance of compassion, kindness, respect, consent, and the necessity for authenticity, even if people around you disapprove. To be true to yourself is to respect yourself.

Anxiety, rumination, and incessant negative words to myself have taught me to give myself compassion, even when it’s challenging. I must habitually interrupt negative thoughts and redirect my mind toward the door of kindness. Being my own best friend has been vital.

Learning to hold space for my pain has been pertinent as I’ve navigated people telling me that my pain is unimportant and minuscule, even though it isn’t. Mine isn’t, and yours isn’t. Our pain matters, and we must create a safe emotional space. I must honor my pain even if the world doesn’t care. You also must honor yours.

I’ve learned it’s okay to feel uncomfortable and state if I don’t consent. Whether or not it matters to anyone else, it matters to me.

I’ve learned that it’s okay to feel how I feel, even if others wish I felt differently. It’s alright to be sensitive; the world needs more sensitivity because compassion comes with it.

I’ve learned the importance of self-forgiveness. I have made mistakes throughout my life, and I imagine I’ll continue to. Giving ourselves grace and recognizing the lessons that come with our errors is essential. Most importantly, we must wake up the next day and try again.

I’ve learned that if people disrespect me, I must counteract that disrespect with kindness toward another while keeping a boundary with the person who disrespected me.

All of these have been vital lessons for me thus far, and I imagine I’ll learn many more, but one lesson has reared its beautiful head amongst all the rest:

SPEAK

In a world that wants me to be quiet, I must speak.
In a world that wants me to follow the status quo, I must speak.
In a world that wants me to keep its secrets, I must speak.
In a world that wants me to hide myself to keep someone else content, I must speak.

Maybe this isn’t your most significant life lesson, but it’s mine, and I ask you to consider it. The world wants us to pretend we’re fine while crumbling inside. In my experience, the world wants us to remain quiet while people disrespect us. People expect us to allow this disrespect because God forbid we tell someone we don’t like their behavior. They’d have to look at themselves if we spoke up.

Too bad, I say. It’s time to look.

I learned to accept and use my voice by allowing people to disrespect me, tell me my feelings don’t matter, tell me I’m not allowed to feel them, and tell me I should be quiet.

I learned this as I lost sleep at night, wondering why the world wanted me to hide my feelings and myself.

I learned it when I said yes to things I wanted to say no to and when I said nothing when I wished to object.

I learned it when I was looked in the eye and told my feelings and pain don’t matter.

I learned it when I finally asked myself who was holding me back: the world or my own fears.

I will no longer cater to the world, protect people from what they don’t want to hear, or play politics in a world that desperately needs humility and authenticity.

I will learn from my mistakes, as I have in the past.

As I do so, I will speak.

Will you speak?

I want to hear you,
Rachael

Dear World,

I see now that my anger which once was my great protector, now is my captor. Here’s my story:

Anger wraps her roots around me.

Always looming
Threatening to pull me down if I don’t feed her.
Always suffocating

She pretends she’s my fan, as she picks my pocket.
If she were a drink, she would be Dark & Stormy.
If she were a lover, she would be Delilah.
If she were a plant, she would be a Venus Flytrap.

She has barricaded herself in the deep recesses of my heart.
Lying, telling me I am safer with all these locks on the door.
Reminding me that no one can get in.

But I can’t get out either.
Like my computer passwords, the only one I am safe from is myself.

She’s been here so long; she feels like she has squatter’s rights.
We are married by common law.

She reminds me I can’t make it without her.
She tells me you tried that remember and your heart was broken.
She says you’re better angry – trust me.
She feasts on my peace of mind.
She robs me of my creativity.
She tells me I need no one besides her.
She has a stronghold on my mind and my heart.
She cuts me off from my magic and synchronicity.

With me, you never have to grieve.
You can avoid your thoughts & fears.
I sustain you; I built you, without me your success will fade.

She burns my house down, with me locked inside.
It’s time for her to go.
She cannot be defeated with fire, only love.

It’s time to let her go. I realize that all the locks on the door to my heart are on the inside. Only I can unlock them, one at a time. Here’s my releasing anger meditation:

Slowly…
Patiently…
Breathing deeply…
I unlock each of my anger locks.
Anger, I love you – I set you free from my mind.
Anger, I love you – I set you free from my body.
Anger, I love you – I set you free from my heart.
Anger, I love you – I set you free from my grounding.
Anger, I love you – I set you free from my healing and creativity.

It was she who was afraid, not me.

Finally, we are free.

I pity those who haven’t stumbled upon that everything has a reason
And most of your lows are for building
You must always trust your intuition
Everyone has some hate passed down like a lesion
If you stay open and honest you’ll find your vision

I have always been a pretty apolitical.

I am the most “Can’t we all just get along?”, peacemaker kinda person you will ever meet.

I have to say: my patience & tolerance have been pressed about as tight up against the proverbial Glass Ceiling as they can get – before shattering.

So, for all the newly minted, Monday-Morning Constitutional Law experts, I need to get this message out:

In these United States of America, we have what are called “Fundamental Freedoms”; and there are five of them that were clearly, and specifically, spelled out by The Founding Fathers. Everyone loves to clamor on them, but NONE OF THEM – not a single one – are named in the Constitution.

Also, whilst you may have the Freedoms of Speech, Religion, Press, Assembly, and to Petition the Government; your “right” to these freedoms does NOT supersede my right to them.

Therefore:

I have never cared who you loved;
Until you started shoving it down my throat.
I have never cared about the color of your skin (despite being raised by a bigot);
Until you started blaming all your troubles on the color of mine.
I have never cared that you’re a man;
Until you called me weaker for being a woman.
I have never cared about your politics,
Until you started condemning me for mine.
And I have never cared about heritage;
Until you called me “Deplorable” for mine.

Now, I care.

FRUSTRATION OUTWEIGHS ANY CONSIDERATION
PAIN OVERPOWERS THE FIGHT
THE FIGHT TO CARE, WHICH RESULTS IN SUCH RAGE
SO ENTWINED IN UNHAPPILY EVER AFTER
NO LONGER INDULGING IN YOUR IMMATURE ANTICS
COMPLETELY UNAMUSED BY APOLOGETIC GESTURES
NO SINCERITY, ONLY COMPLEXITY
LOSING PRECIOUS ENERGY
PROLONGING THIS AURA OF INEVITABILITY
DESIRING TO WALK AWAY, SO STRONGLY, SO BOLD
DEVISING A COURAGEOUS PLAN TO TAKE BACK MY CONTROL
THOUGH SECOND GUESSING MYSELF DUE TO CIRCUMSTANCE
MEDITATING TO ALLOW YET ANOTHER CHANCE
MY ABILITY TO RELEASE CAN’T RELY ON YOU
MERELY AFRAID OF THINGS YOU’VE SAID COMING TRUE
NEGATIVITY WON’T STOP DETERMINATION
SIMPLY ENHANCING MY VERBAL ELATION
SELF-MOTIVATION, LIFTING MY SPIRIT WITH DELIGHT
AND ACCEPT THE DECISION TO MOVE ON WITH MY LIFE

Write it down. Leave nothing out of the paper. No spaces. You don’t have to buy a fancy notebook that makes it feel like a task or an obligation. It’s just you and your pen. If you use a pencil, you’ll correct yourself. There’s nothing that needs to be fixed or edited. It already happened. Don’t use your screens and fingertips. Take yourself back to a time when you didn’t stop until writing hurt your knuckles. When you were so into it, the writing stopped making sense to anyone but you. Talking to yourself won’t cut it. Let your thoughts watch you ink them out loud. Let your pain jump from you into the white surface. Let your scars open up and ooze onto the parchment. Write about when you’re delighted. When you dropped your first pencil in class. It was so quiet, and everyone was looking.
Did it hurt to be watched? You take these times with you wherever you go. Put them down so you can make space for every day. What now? Read them. You were there. You felt it happen. Being honest with yourself is more challenging when you’re distracted by everything around you. When you’re worried about someone else peeking in. Just make it all stop. Write it down. You don’t have to be a Scrabble champion to scribble. Doodle, turn it into life. Don’t throw it away. Look back at it to see how far your cow jumped over the moon. When it’s over, turn to the next page, get up, and live in the now.

It took me all of a nanosecond to know the most important thing I learned in my life and it was definitely a lesson. There was no thinking about it..no contemplating about all the lessons that have been taught to me. I have lived over six decades and when I say there have been dozens of lessons I have learned that would probably be an understatement. Of course going through the daily life that each of us does we certainly never think what is happening will teach us something down the road. We just go about our living either enjoying it or not. It’s not until we move on that we realize what we were taught from our circumstances.
I started by saying this took me no time at all to know my greatest life lesson but then I panicked. I thought if I write about this it makes me look like the unhappiest person in the world. So I stopped in my tracks and figured out I had to come up with something different. There had to be a lesson I learned that was positive or happy or hopeful! For days I started to write only to delete and start all over again. Why was I having so much trouble trying to come up with something…I instantly had what my true life lesson was so why was I taking so long trying to come up with another one?
I thought back through my life and realized I was trying to make something up that just didn’t exist. If I was to be truthful I would have to go back. I spent so much of my childhood and adult life trying to not believe the things my mom had told me because lets face it, she was my mom and how could she know anything? Luckily we all grow out of that and realize our moms are always there for us.
Sadly and unfortunately she was right and the greatest life lesson came from her. She told me early on that there is only one person to trust in life and that is the person staring back at you in the mirror. Of course I thought she was crazy. I had friends, family, coworkers and numerous other people I could trust in my life and apparently my mom was just a bitter woman who wasn’t happy.
Then life hit…In the last 15 years I found out exactly what she meant. Just because someone is blood does not mean they are loyal or family for that matter. We just share a lot of the same DNA. Just because someone pretends to be your friend does not mean they can be trusted because sometimes they truly aren’t happy for your happiness. The people in my life that I NEVER thought would hurt me have gone above and beyond trying to destroy me. I have found the true meaning of abuse and again shocked that the abuse was from people I gave my life for.
This is not because I am old and bitter but because other people have shown me who they are by their own actions. My mom was right and I only wish she was here to see that. When something bad happens in my life now I look in the mirror and say “you got this, you can get through anything” and when something good happens I never forget to say to myself “Good job you did it”.
This is about the best lesson I learned and although I would have liked it to be a more positive lesson, THIS was and is my greatest lesson. The person you want in your life is someone who is loyal, trustworthy and willing to help you from their heart and to never intentionally hurt you. It should be someone who is willing to give their life for you if needed. I still have hope for people and maybe even a little tiny bit of faith but when it comes down to my life these days I realize there is absolutely nothing wrong with looking in that mirror and knowing you found that person looking back at you.

To my daughter: You asked to know more about me.

Thursday morning:

This 6 a.m. August daylight of the Arizona desert still carries the coolness of the storm from two days ago. I can see the dim sunlight filtering in through the cheap wood blinds, just enough to illuminate the beautiful plants by the window. The house is quiet. The dogs are outside, the cats are roaming the counters helping dad get ready for his short overnight trip, waiting for a treat.

Today, I have no responsibilities—except making art, sleeping, and getting high. I rarely get the house all to myself. Your brother left for work around 1 a.m., right at the peak of my trip. I handled it well, but he still questioned something I said, with that familiar “what the hell are you even saying, Mom?” look on his face. Then he softened it, to be kind, as a courtesy to me. He tries so hard to love me and be polite. What used to be painful, and insulting is now kind of charming, and I’m grateful to him for that.

I think today makes it a couple of days since I last slept. Today is Thursday 6 a.m. and I think the last time I slept was Tuesday morning before my shift. But that sleep was good, and it’s held me over just fine.

So, I have the house all to myself. Heaven!

This morning’s trip has been all about love. Everything is love and gratitude. Everything. I used to be scared to say that out loud. Growing up Mexican, you learn that you can’t be too happy – God will remind you He exists, and so do problems and misery. You can’t be too grateful or too content, or God might strike you or one of your loved ones, just to make sure you remember how life really is, and so that you’re grateful for Him, not your life.

But it isn’t just God. Even now, I feel a sense of guilt, as if acknowledging and sharing my good fortune is somehow portentousness. Society suggests that I haven’t truly paid my dues – that all the strides and hard work I’ve put in become irrelevant the moment there’s comfort and financial security. Who am I to tell anyone that their perspective shapes their life, their present, and their future? Who am I to suggest that pain can be transformed into gratitude and love, just as it’s been happening to me?

Me. Indeed, that’s my perspective. But I know other perspectives are just as valid, and I respect that. The more I embrace that understanding, the more grace I have for my own journey, the more love I feel. And with that love comes the realization that it is possible to shift perspective, to shift toward love. The more I understand that we are both the same and different, the more everything shifts to love.

But with this growing love, my need to share expands alongside it, and that’s scary. I find myself talking too much, sharing my real opinions a little too loosely, using words like love, alignment, acceptance, and curiosity. My PTSD and insecurity creep in, trying to protect me from all this vulnerability, reminding me that being real hasn’t always worked out for me. Being real got me fired within two weeks of a new manager, after eight years at my job.

But the love, acceptance and curiosity keep flowing out of me, beyond my control. If someone wants to play the chronic patient, I’ll support them in their story. If they see themselves as the suffering family member bearing the burden of the world, I’ll validate that too. I’m with them. I’ll agree, feel, and truly taste it with them. I believe them. I know it’s their truth in that moment, in that space and time.

I have a patient who is the exact replica of Jabba the Hut – a barely mobile triangular puddle of skin and bones. The first time I received her report, it was full of examples of her neediness, labeling her as a frequent flyer who just seeks attention and medication. I was ready to do the bare minimum – keep her clean and drugged to her liking. But then I also chose to be curious, and she surprised me. She was aware, painfully aware, that she had chosen this role and was playing it to the best of her ability, even though she hated it.

She had a family, grandkids, a life beyond this hospital bed. When I asked her what first led to her decline, she started telling her story. But the deeper she went, the more detached she became, as if she no longer owned it. It’s fascinating to see someone dip in and out of their narrative, aware and then unaware, perhaps to avoid destroying the world they’ve built. What would she have left if she took responsibility for creating her life? Devastation, maybe.

Either way, I did my best. I repositioned her, making her more comfortable, brushed her hair, and tied it in a ponytail. I surprised her too, by offering to set her up to brush her teeth and wash her face in bed. I’ll take credit for the very basic needs of human dignity I provided; I will take credit without guilt or a sense grandiosity.

I, too, could easily slip in and out of my own soggy story – the one where I’m the saintly nurse who sees and cares for people on their worst days, a blend of Nightingale and Mother Theresa. It’s a good story, and it’s valid. Yes, being a nurse feels like carrying a crucifix every day. How did I end up here? Why didn’t I take the easy way out, some job with less emotional weight? One with a less intense kind of customer service. But here I am, and it’s teaching me so much about what I’m missing as a person, about who I am and who I’m not. And most importantly, it’s teaching me who I want to be. I am grateful every day that my experiences at bedside help me polish my humanness. It is a humble honor to remain curious.

That is one thing you all have in common, especially you, my strong, determined daughter. None of you take the easy way out, or in.

As I write this, I am less high, more grounded. Things are starting to get denser. The liberating feeling of doing whatever I want is dissipating with my high. But I know I will enjoy my day, regardless. The plan is still the same: do nothing.
I love you baby girl

J e a l o u s y is your fallacy, never once. No I couldn’t. I wouldn’t
Gaslighting me to a T. Masquerading your way into my life.
such a beautiful story with a tragic end
So suitable and dutiful
What a fake, I’m making a big mistake
Couldn’t you see it in his eyes? All his lies, deep inside
5 years by the wayside
My story is not over see the red flags flying in front of your face. You’re such a disgrace
I am having an epiphany But he disagrees with me
This look on your face I’ve never seen before as I close the door
Well I’ve met the true you finally, excuse me kindly
Looking over my shoulder wherever I go I can’t seem to shake this feeling It sends me realing have you learned yet not to tell a lie
I’m starting to get scared. I can feel my hair standing on end Is this the end
I lie here buried finally at rest to tell my story

Never ignore a person who cares for you.
Because someday you’ll realize
You’ve lost a diamond, while you were busy collecting stones.
You see…I’ll do a lot for a man I love…
But I’ll do even more for a man I know that loves me…or so I thought.
You’ve got to build with somebody who wants it as bad as you do.
I thought he did but I was fed something until I didn’t want to be fed anymore.
I never wanted to control him.
I wanted to let him do what he wanted so I can see what he would rather do.
I let him lead.
There is something sexy about letting a man lead in the relationship, just as long as he’s not controlling it or controlling me.
His actions will show how much he respects you and how much he loves you.
Just because you’ve brought something up, it doesn’t mean you want to argue.
It means communication.
It means you want to resolve things, get some clarity, learn, and grow together.
You both are adults and should be able to communicate.
I did so much for a man and was left because he couldn’t communicate and I believe he grew bored and that it broke my self esteem.
Maybe the 6, almost 7 years was too much for him.
But he told me this:

“You care and worry about the wrong things and let them eat you up to the point you turn and lash out so how about you know something. If it wasn’t for you half of my ships wouldn’t have sailed, you saved my ass on numerous occasions. You are worth more than money can buy and know that you yourself just in care alone… your currency is priceless, you’re more than dreams can buy. Like stop letting the little things you think and feel deter you from being in a happier place. Yeah things suck and aren’t what you want but that doesn’t make it worthless.”

He lost his diamond.
Funny because I was born in April.
He knows what I am worth now after everything he’s done to me but yet I still ask myself this question…
Why didn’t he fight for me?
Why wasn’t I enough for him to stay around for?
Why has he stayed with who he’s with now but has let me go so fast?
Oh wait, I’m sorry, he repeatedly tells me he’s not with her.
Things aren’t what they seem.
He’s not happy.
He wants to get away from all of that.
I am the mother of his youngest daughter.
The woman his other children love and who I love so much like I was the one who carried them inside of me and gave them life.
His best friend of over 20 years.
We planned a forever together, chose the colors, the theme, songs, and now look.
Nothing…
All due to his infidelity and I can’t seem to shake it off that maybe it was also due to me growing half of him inside of me.
He and I weren’t ready to be parents again.
But I accepted this beautiful little blessing that came to be another girl.

When you are different..
You are not the same ..
When you love for love ..
And they love for gain ..
Since a child.. I took on all of my friends ..
Like a mother.. I nurtured ..again.. and again ..
Some say ” Thankyou ” ..
Others won’t speak ..
Some are mean ..
And some are sweet ..
I fed you .. I clothed you ..
Gave you shoes off my feet ..
Brought you in the from the cold ..
And I turned up the heat ..
See when you are chosen to clean up a mess ..
You lighten their load ..
and you carry their stress ..
You don’t have to question ..
Why you are blessed ..
You give away more ..
And you take away less ..