Becoming Me

Hello and welcome to my journey. This is my journey to finding and becoming me. She’s been lost for awhile. I will find her and free her. I can’t wait to meet her. I can’t wait for everybody to meet her. Thank you for your support.

My Father

My biological father and mother divorced when I was about 3 years old. My mother remarried when I was 8 years old. My father was not interested in being active in our lives, so my step-father was more of a dad to me than my self-centered biological one was.

My step-dad wasn’t the best at showing his emotions or feelings. But he got it across to my sister and I the best he could. Looking back , I am in awe that he took on a stay-at-home mom on welfare,  with 3 kids. He provided for all of us.

When he became comfortable, almost desperate, to share how much he loved us, unfortunately was shortly before he passed away.

But by that time, I had already learned how to build up my walls.

I was one of the first and last to touch him after he stopped breathing.  In fact, when I squeezed his hand in hopes of feeling his squeeze back, his body involuntarily took in a breath from the oxygen tank, which was turned up to full blast. I truly thought he had come back to life.  My family, behind me, knew better, and had to take a few minutes to convince me. That was the start of the popping of my optimistic bubble.

This is a poem I wrote 2 years later when I was a senior in high school.  I rarely shared my personal life and emotions with classmates, but for some reason I did. Here it is, polished up just a bit.

My Father

It was dark

I took his hand

My pressure to his lifeless palm

He was now free

But not for this ugly world.


The clear tube hung down

It had done its job.

It was now useless

As were my tears and pleas

As was his once labored breath.

Are You Watching Me?

Are you watching me?

Are you sitting back comfortably while my life spirals out of control?

As I take the face-exploding punches that come after each right thing I do.

As I meet the soul-crushing walls with each good decision I make.

And while I am knocked out, falling further away, do you hear me screaming a silent prayer, doomed before it begins?

As I feebly hope for a mildly interested audience, I am left to meet my rocky landing alone.

Do you witness the still, sharp silence as it obliterates my entire being into a million neglected pieces?

Can you feel my children cradle, comfort, soothe these pieces of me in their brave despair, until I am somehow put back together?

Do you notice that I seem to lose a piece of me with each crash? Each time I wonder in vain hope if it will be my last.

Are you watching me?

Fill Me

My body is starving for physical love. It can’t be sated with sex alone.

My mind is ravenous for arousal. It won’t be quenched with words of desire alone.

My soul craves to be set on fire. It must be fed with the fire of another.

So fill me. Only then will my heart be atoned.

My Answer?

Unless evil forces are working against me, I believe I have been given an answer. In a pathetic way, I’ve been “informed” that I never mattered, was used for fun, and am nothing as of now. So I won’t be needing WordPress to record my journey. There is no journey.

Nightmare Come True

One of my worst fears in my life I’ve come to find out is not just a fear of rejection, but the fear of being passed over and not seen. Not seen as special. Not seen for what I have to offer and what I have to say and what I’m about. I like to help people. I like to make them laugh. But I also like to laugh myself. And part of being seen does something for me. I have something inside of me that I want recognized and appreciated and I want to share it. I don’t need it to be validated and I don’t need to make someone else feel good but I feel like I want to feel good with somebody. That’s what I want to share.

So when I find out that I’ve been used and then I didn’t matter as much to somebody as I thought, that is my worst nightmare come true. To me it is life shattering, self esteem obliterating, hope sucking.

I’m not saying that this has happened or that it would happen to me if it happens one time. But it has happened over and over again throughout my life and I’m sick of it. I am worth everything. I refuse to give myself anymore to anybody who is not worthy. And to be honest, most all men aren’t.

And to tell you the truth, I think I’m done giving myself at all.

I run

I am a mess of walls and fight or flight reactions. I became this way over time. But it was my choice, my way to cope. I take responsibility.

Therefore, I tend to push people away when I feel they are getting too close to me. Not because I don’t want them to be close and not because I don’t wish them to want me. It’s because I don’t want to hurt them or fuck their lives and dreams up.

Because that’s what I do. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. If I stay, I get hurt. If I stay, I hurt them. If I run, I hurt them. When I run, I hurt myself.

One way or another, someone’s getting hurt and it’s always my fault.

My ex-husband started calling me the Ruiner of All Things towards the end of our marriage. I never believed him because he verbally abused me daily, and I didn’t believe any of the other names he called me. But this one stuck in my mind.

I feel like everything and everyone I touch, I kill.


It is always best to communicate and ask questions. Educating yourself with the facts is so important, especially when it comes to love and feelings. It never pays to assume. One never knows whose life and dreams one could be crushing.

When you came, it was so amazing and wonderful. A dream come true. But I suddenly felt shy and overwhelmed after all of the conversations we had from a distance. Sometimes one feels pressure and is not able to meet the expectations of another. I loved being with you. I feel like I didn’t get to be with you enough.

I feel guilty that I wasn’t able to share all that we talked and dreamed about.

Make no mistake: everything was in place. The desire was there and still is and always will be. But sometimes insecurities and pressure to be the best for somebody can be too much, and hinders the desired results. So I was left with the desire, but I was suddenly shy and insecure and overwhelmed. I felt worried and anxious and fearful of boring you and taking too much of your time, if you know what I mean. I desired you the entire time, but often felt too demanding. What was I to do? I was all dressed up and…

You are not at fault. I failed because of the damage from my past. My shortcomings had nothing to do with you. All I wanted was to be with you and spend time with you, and do all that we said we were going to do and all that we fantasized about. But it seemed like the right time eluded us. There was always something in the way. The kids or the condition of the house, or one of us sleeping, or me letting you down because I’m self-centered.

I wish I could go back and fix everything. I assure you it wasn’t how you might have assumed. I’m heartbroken if this was the case.

I hope this makes sense. I’m sorry for the monster that I am. I’m so sorry I hurt you. I never, never wanted to hurt you. My disease has ruined who I really am. While I’m working on finding out who that is and becoming her, I understand if you can’t wait for that day. I just wanted you to know these things. Please don’t ever think that you weren’t enough or that you aren’t enough, because you were, and you are. For me, you always will be. I can’t love anybody else. It’s not that I don’t want to. I can’t. When you meet the person who completes you, no one else will do.

I love you. Always.