What do you write about when the truth is not enough–or too much–but you’re not quite sure which? When it’s mumbled and jumbled and you’re not quite sure which way is up and which way is down; what do you write about then? I hate coming here and writing sometimes because it feels like this is just my place to vent, to share my worries and troubles, and that in reality I’m not really getting anywhere–that the someone out there I hoped to touch has come and gone because they couldn’t find the hope. And then the question turns back to, what do you write about when the truth is just not cutting it? If the truth feels too overwhelming or like it’s too much, because honestly, this is my truth. I’m knee-deep in the trenches of healing from some pretty massive trauma. I’m drowning in a pool of newness and change that I never bargained for. And so many times my truth seems depressing or repetitive in nature, it can be difficult to read. I’m given ultimatums and mixed messages and asked to decipher them which has proven time and time again to be more difficult than anything I’ve previously lived through. I’m told that I bring upon myself the chaos and craziness that keeps unfolding, then I’m told it’s not my fault. My truth is hard, viewed as a beautiful mess. My truth, right now, is harder than any thing I’ve ever had to face. I’m sitting on a fence that leans quite abruptly from one side to the other without warning…a fence that I no longer have the desire to sit upon but that’s comforting seat is all too enticing. This fence that I’ve only recently mounted and the side in which I  come from has pulled me back, easily, time and time again removing the ability to balance the weight or jump to the greener side. My truth is that I’m completely and utterly lost. I don’t know where I belong in this world or where to go or what choices to make, but everyday I’m faced with the decision to move on. I take one road and for a few days it seems okay, it seems that I’ve finally found the path that was meant for me, with a few bumps and turns,  and then I’m thrown back to the fork in the road and asked to try again. Starting from the beginning and again being asked to take another road. My truth is, I feel completely and utterly alone in this world but don’t have the courage to tell the people around me who so diligently try to help me. This loneliness allows me to understand at a deep level the desire to do drugs, to give up, to die. It allows me to understand a life that for years I was so against but that in the last few days has slowly tried to convince me of its friendship. I walk in a world that I don’t really understand and that doesn’t understand me. A world that only recently I have embarked upon and that some days I wonder if it’s truly the right world. A world so different from mine that more times than not I find myself in a battle to comprehend the vast differences. Differences like my mom hurting me for not making the bed right and Bailey telling me to make sure that the bed is messily made. Or a hug from Becca after I’ve lost my cool when for so long that warranted abuse. The struggle to decide which is more important, the comfort of the beating or the awkwardness of the hold. Everyday I battle with the internal plea to return to what I’ve always known. Every day I fight to keep a bunch of little girls all on the same page without fighting and a group of voices from driving me insane. The truth, my truth, is that right now life is really hard. Sometimes it is hard to see the positive. My life right now is focused on a lot of loss that is happening. A loss that I’m not sure I’m ready for. Amidst the loss is the requirement to stay function-able and desirable to be around, or I risk everything I’ve spent the last 3 years of my life working for, and quite frankly I’m not sure I can lose any more than I already have and am losing. My body aches and I can’t sleep. I haven’t been able to keep solid food down and my brain wont stop. I’m tired…I feel like I’m drowning, like I’m being sucked into the depths of a place too deep to return and I don’t know how to turn around. This, plus so much more, is my truth. This is my life right here, right now. These are the things I write about because somehow it makes me feel not as alone. These are the things of healing, the side of healing that isn’t always shared because not too many people want to hear it. These are the things that too many people keep too locked inside.

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