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Step 1: We Admitted That Our Lives Had Become Unmanagable

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I did it. Tonight, I joined a Codependents Anonymous Support Group, otherwise known as Coda. I am codependent to a larger degree than I had thought. I also don’t know where all of this shame is coming from, but I’m happy that I’ve taken the initiative.

I’ve known that I was codependent on an intellectual level; tonight I dug a little deeper. This happened by accident. Someone who is struggling was referred to me yesterday evening. My friends know me as someone who is kind, compassionate and a person enjoys lifting people up. I really do love being a helper.

The issue, here, is that I often suffer from burnout. I will toil, and toil, and will not rest. And boundaries? Pfft! Hardest thing ever!

Not to worry though, I’ve taken baby steps. I can acknowledge when things are getting a bit hazy, and when I need to step back. As an example, I formed a bond with my friend and we clicked instantly. Consciously, I put in the effort to ask her if she’s had enough time to “recharge her batteries”. If she has, then we talk. If not, We miss each other healthily until our next conversation.

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Growing up without a mom for most of my life was really shitty. It still is. My mom deserves to rest in peace. Therefore, I won’t go into too much detail about the why and how of her passing. I only know that losing her was brutal. I was a self-absorbed little shit, as all children are, (and I try to constantly remind myself of this so that I don’t punish myself for her death). I digress.

I didn’t have the chance to appreciate my mom.

I was busy trying to sort out these weird feelings in my head, like “Why are these teachers so mean to me?” and “Why can’t I go to my grandma’s house? Nobody screams, fights, or flips their lid every two seconds there.”

And: “Why are you screaming at me because I can’t count quarters correctly?”

Look, I love my mom. I know moms are stressed, tired, and way undervalued; I’m just stating my truth.

My mom could not cope. My mother loved me and I loved her, but it is simply time to let this shit go; I will never be able to move forward if I do not. My mother could not cope and I got the brunt of all the irritation, jealousy, and insecurity.

I catch myself behaving in these negative ways. It’s time for them to stop.
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So, yeah: step 1: My life is a mess at this point, though I do have to say I’ve still made awesome progress. Now, it’s time to change my stinkin’ thinkin’ and realize that even though things are a mess, I’m still worthy.

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10:43 P.M.

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My house looks emptier as the days roll on. No kidding, I’ve gotten rid of almost everything except my tapestries, and my desk (which I plan on trading in for a smaller one). Of course, I still use my laptop to write to you on here.

If you’ve been following me since I vowed to you that I would put my all into my art, and into pursuing my passions while encouraging you to do the same, you’ll be happy to know I’ve kept my word.

I’m sitting in an almost empty apartment. I still can’t work a 9-5 job. I still promote my coaching sessions when appropriate. Happily, success found me by the word, ‘no’.

A friend of mine always puts herself before others; with my guidance and her own inner strength, she finally put herself and her needs first by saying no… to me! 🙂

Ah, when you’re own teachings backfire on you, you know you’ve done a great job.

I was not angry or upset, I was so very proud to know that she had come so far after just talking with me a few times.

Having mentioned this to you, don’t ever underestimate what you can offer someone. I have been in a wheelchair all of my life. Sometimes just your existence is enough to turn someone’s outlook on life around.


The first smile

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the first time she smiled at me/it felt like her smile was forbidden/She buried her face in my pillow and she laughed as she bared her fangs/she never used them as a weapon with me/and I felt like I was one with the pack/Age wasn’t a factor and we/ fell in love starting from my first glimpse of her copper hair/Lines I traced in her hands/Often, I’d wonder why she’d chosen me/evidently fate had chosen us

Indigo

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There’s always been someone there when I felt like I wanted to end my life. Giving up is harder than pushing forward when there are these indigo children just like you, begging you to listen. So I do. I do not mean indigo children as in ancient aliens or the oval-shaped dudes on spaceships. I mean indigo, the color a child chooses to smear on her oil-painting as she tells me, someone who is three times older than her that I cant control my life, and that when I’m sad there’s nothing I can do but feel something.

There’s always someone there when I want to end my life.

She welcomes me home and does not know I have been trying to be a safe place for others to lick their wounds in, but still I am the altar left to collect dust from their mouths.

She says we’ll get out of here. She welcomes me home, and I forgot that I wanted to die.

There’s always someone there to remind me of what it means to be alive.

Nosedive

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I’m excited about what lies ahead. In a few weeks I’ll be starting over.

I’ve become comfortable with uncertainty; it’s even a bit thrilling. I’ve always known that nothing is certain, but this time I feel it on a soul level.

My motivation, and my stubbornness have carried me this far. Not only that, but my faith and absolute determination to not take no for an answer.

I’ve had to sell nearly every item in my house, publish a patreon, fight tooth and nail to not let greed get me down, forget that pride exists, and loosen my grip.

Nose diving into my life with reckless abandon isn’t so scary once you’re off the ledge.

I’m in awe at how I’ve surpassed myself and my expectations of myself as well.

But, a one-man-show is never a one-man-show. I could do nothing without the help of God and the people who have been there to catch me as I was free falling.

An invisible army is still an army.

Sometimes I forget

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Time moves on, and I have held on 
Still, I will weep for the child 
That got lost in the abyss.

I can feel the ache in me
When I think back to all those homes
That I could not escape

I was too old at eighteen.
I left with nothing.

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I am twenty-six now,
and sometimes I forget my age.

I forget that I'm in charge of me
I'm in charge of my feelings, now.

At times, this joyous freedom is too big a responsibility.
This is normal to a degree, but 

Sometimes I forget my age,
When I think of 
What people are capable of 
Doing to a child 

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Sometimes, I forget my age
When I think back on where I've been 
Or when I say I want to go home;
I forget that I pay rent 

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Sometimes I forget to remember that I am home.
Sometimes my mind forgets that I'm home.

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I want to go home 
And know that I am there,
For once 


About Yesterday

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Yesterday, I did not turn around.
There was some comment
About how I'm a blonde now, 
But, I'm not.

"It's bleach,"

I let you pretend
That our house wasn't on fire.

"Do you like it?"

You ask this in a way that reminds me
 you like to make my mouth your favorite fishing spot.


"It's whatever,"
I've learned a lot about lying from you.



You only came over to look around.
But you've covered your eyes.



I look over and I see your child 
Repeating the same mantra,

"I am not a dock, there are no fish here,"



We repeat this together until you leave.
And then you do.



Our life resumes.




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