Stay

 

We don't have money like you, Danae.

    I started saving up money before I even knew I was leaving Z. We had talked of a future that included SLC but he talked about a lot of futures. I saved and saved. Every time a package arrived with his name blazed across, or he came up with some new, big idea or purchase that he needed, I just saved a little more. So when my therapist asked if I had any money saved up, although alarming, my answer was quick. I had money. I didn't have much anything else, but that I did have. She told me going No-Contact would be the best route and that it would be when I was ready not when everyone else told me so.

Then I sold my home. I sold my car. Those things should have been "ours", but he couldn't drive and everything adorning that 5th Wheel which made it a home had come from me. Once I packed up his shit, it was my home. I miss that 5th Wheel every fucking day. I used to think I hated it, but what I hated resided inside. So deeply engrained into my being that I couldn't see or think straight. I didn't hate the 5th Wheel, I despised him. To say my dedication to that incubus was twisted within his toxic grip would be the understatement of the century.

Love isn't harmful, and he loved to harm.

I remember asking myself and jotting down "If you don't like this person right here, right now? Why are you dating them?" I didn't get out for another year.

I went on to give my attention to someone that didn't believe I would, nor could leave Z. That didn't stop him from trying to gain me as another follower. Then someone who left a chewed-up piece of gum on my comforter. Then a guy who truly thinks he is better than me because he has more. Through those lessons I discovered something about myself. I haven't loved me enough. Maybe I did when I was a little girl, I can't be sure. What I can tell you is that my inner child is currently wrecked. I haven't had a moment to come up for air. I need a home.

One of the quietest places I have found was a little AA circle built amongst a gym for those in recovery. It's the first Agnostic AA Meeting I've found since leaving Portland. They had these pebbles where you could write a message, then exchange it for a message someone else had left. I found this little gem:

I have lacked belief in myself so much that I've been repeating "I Can't" all day, every fucking day. I'm lying to myself. My inner dialogue is wrong. I can. I did. I will. I'm going to be okay. First you get sober from booze, and then you get sober from men.... and then maybe booze again. Healing isn't linear and well, the Supreme Court done fucked me up all sorts of every which way. I relapsed. I made it through a pandemic. I made it through isolation. I made it out of a 3-year-long chokehold. I moved. I moved again. I got punched in the face. I moved again. I signed papers to rid myself of Z forever; only to find out he hadn't signed his half. He never did anything worthwhile. So when on top of all that, I was alerted of the movement of war over my body and my choice, I gave up. It was only for half a day, but it was enough. I blurred my reality for just a moment. Then I came back. It wasn't worth it. I still have fight in me yet. No man, no government, will ever destroy me.

I am womxn; hear my roar.

I am enough. You are enough.

What The Shit

    Getting out of an abusive relationship and then digging through your most inner parts to make sure you never go there again is quite the workload. It's hard, sad, exhausting, and leads to a lot of disassociation and breakdowns. Adding on to that, watching your best friend make the same mistakes you are trying so desperately to never make again, can be very triggering. Knowing their worth is being stomped on and dimmed makes you want to fucking light shit on fire. Let's be honest, everything is making me want to light shit on fire right now. So what do you do when someone you love won't leave the piece of shit that they are dating?

I took to Google to find out. It's been full of frustration and familiarity. Nobody could convince me to leave Z. I had to leave on my own. It is something I haven't allowed myself to receive credit for until now. I did it. I left. I got out. It was me who took care of the finances, physical labor, mental overload; just as I did in that dreadfully one-sided relationship. I had to sit in hell (Sacramento) for 2 years before I figured all of that shit out. 

So I will have to stand back (but still nearby) and watch my friend fumble around in her own -less than ideal- surroundings. I must find a patience I have never known and the unconditional love I've only seen in movies and read about in books. I cannot make someone be someone they are not ready to be. Keeping that in mind, those pesky boundaries must stay put. I did not agree to be in any form of a relationship with another Narcissist. I have no idea what I'm supposed to be doing right now.

HELP.

I am going to AA meetings again.

By Now

 

Chasing The High

sirens of loneliness tear through my flesh

i begin to indulge in the carnage and mess

this big hole can't get enough

i must consume

i seek closure in not feeling 

comfort in the panic

panting and sobbing

chasing and charging

my account's overdrawn

they say when you love someone 

darkness becomes dawn

a distorted mock-up

tic tac lies

double down

while you flash those pretty eyes

i'm very familiar with my own demise

i must confess

partake of the dust

fuck, lie, then distrust 

every fragmented part

why don't you choke

solid carbon dioxide bloke

a worldwide craft

devouring nightly

a pact with my heart

when you stand right by me, 

you play your part

are you ready to decline

hardly recognize 

you and i

am i monster or something else

a triad of mischief

baggage and false pre-

tends, shit's tense

I'll fake it til i'm gone

baby....

i won't give a fuck

baby, i won't give a fuck

i don't give a fuck

Eu não dou a mínima.

Roe vs. Wade

I will no longer be having sex with men.

I feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders and out of my life. You wanna treat me like a second class citizen? A baby factory? A servant? A pocket pussy? Do you enable abuse then laugh off the pain and fear of womxn everywhere? Are you still friends with the Brock's, Zackary's, Scott's, Nick's, Britt's and Tory's of the world? Well, then you can choke on your semen.

Ladies, we do not need men. We're already discovering new and improved ways to make babies (Pro-Choice) without the ejaculation of a manly, man. When that day comes.......... I scream for justice. May we rid Mother Earth of the disease that is defined by 'masculinity'.

Bounds and Bounds

    Setting boundaries in a world that wishes you to have none is rather hard. Misogyny makes it ever harder; it feels like a layer of our skin is being pulled off. While we beg for it to stop, we get looks of confusion, sometimes a punch; too many of us end up dead.

Before my last two weeks in Sacramento, I believed that when I came to Utah I would be coming to speak with my mother and siblings. It was part of the plan. Life is what happens when you are busy making plans. I started to reach another layer of anxiety. I was crying and feeling resentful. In my last therapy session with my therapist, I begged for her advice. I needed to know if I was an awful person for not wanting to reach out right away. What if I never wanted to? She asked me, "Who is making you see your family?" I announced I was just, ya know, feeling pressure and some drowning sense of obligation. She told me something very important:

"You don't need to see your family until you want to. You are already healing from a lot right now. You don't have to see anyone until you are ready to."

I realized I didn't want to see my mom. I'm still torn and confused, sometimes apathetic, in regards to my siblings. So that's more shit to work through. I have to set boundaries or I will never be allotted the space to heal. I must only allow good people into my life. It is the only way I am going to make it through this alive and sober.

Today is a day.

-D

forgive Him bishop, for She has sinned

    I broke his toothbrush on the same day that I first uttered the words, "Fuck You." The target was my mother. I don't know if this was before or after he'd looked at my body. I know it was in the same house in that same time period. I was getting angrier and angrier. Everyone made sure to let me know how disappointing that was. I'd hear, "where's that sweet little girl we used to know"? I think they should have asked that question while staring in their fucking mirrors.

I used to be well-behaved, sweet, quiet, and a good care-taker of my siblings. What they said I'd become was angry, bitter at such a young age, rebellious, and troubled. I realized at around 11-12 years young that I did not agree with what I was being taught at Mormon Corp. I tried to understand. I wanted to understand. They had no answers. I was ordered to pray and do what the big boys wanted.

I grew up with a very unhealthy outlook on my body. I was told to cover it, and frankly I had very little reason to stray from that order. I believed I was ugly. I wished daily that I could get in a car accident so that my face could be fixed. Beauty standards are twisted already, but then top it with Cult-Frosting and you've got yourself a Mental Health Crisis.

Imagine the confusion of hating your body while finding out your father wants to see and control that body. I was his daughter and his property. He knew he could do whatever he wanted to do, and he'd face no repercussions. He was right. He told Bishop Denboer. He was told to repent. Bishop Denboer never even talked to me.

To this day I can't tell you what repentance is. In my mind it's a right to abuse womxn and children and then have it covered up by a higher up. So all of this confusion with complete and utter turmoil started to come out in anger. I broke that fucking bamboo toothbrush. I would do it again. Once I'd heard myself say "fuck" I rolled it around in my soul. It felt good to take my voice and scream vulgarity. It wasn't allowed. I did it anyway. What were they going to do? Cut out my tongue? Cut off my middle finger? They would have if they could have. There are versions of Handmaid's Tale already occurring. They have been there all along. Just ask all of the womxn who don't look like Utah's warped reality of beings.

I am well-behaved in the name of ethics and common sense. I can be quiet and sweet. I can also be loud and inquisitive. I am great at taking care of kids. I just don't fucking want to do it. I love that I can say I got here without healthy love. I feel like shit right now, but I must be fucking strong to have not yet put a bullet through my brain.

Fuck The Patriarchy.

-D

I Get Sad

 

the new fuzzy sweater

those purple shoes & my teal truck

friendship

I get sad, but I also laugh more than I ever did in those bars, those bedrooms, and the home I surely thought we'd built. I listen to music with people who want to listen to music with me. We talk about so many things; the big, the bad, the ugly. We go deep and still try to grasp hope. Today though, I am sad. I am sad for the woman who accepted so little, for so long. He pulled me down so that I would never be able to see how completely and masterfully beneath me he really was. It's sad.

Today is a day.

Purge The Poison

 

Mystical Bitches Rule d00d <3

Kung Fu Panda

You could have been here watching this movie

If you had just chosen to do better

But why would you be here laughing with us

When you could be choking on self-hatred and lust

You collect women

Rate us in your top 8

The lil boy never left MySpace

Wish I had countered the charms

Clearly seen the poster child for shitty art

Felt it in your lackluster touch

Held my hand just to capture my heart

Staging your hair this way and that

But for how long

Til you're no longer smooth and impressive

unadorned, unembellished 

After all what's a peacock 

without a pretty presence

Should have known I was warmer

Should have known we were different

Should have known when we fucked

When I wanted it to stop;

should've known

You could have been here watching this movie

If you had just chosen to be better

But why would you be here laughing with us

You only hurt the ones you love

A Cautionary Tale

 I see red flags

I see them everywhere

Financial Instability

Non-Existent Flexibility

No tranquility

 

Teaching me about myself,

with their own unclaimed mess

Jumping into a relationship                                  is a red flag

I will to you                                                               a red flag

I have become my own                                               red flag

I've found my superpower

I shall learn through my every flaw

Pick apart my inside parts

Come out the other side on top

The whole world shall burn red

Then I’ll see you,

My favorite purplish hue

I'll quit this nicotine,

just like I quit Old Town.

I'll have no regrets

No man will ever have to tell me to smile

I won't be an obstacle to jump

A bag of bones to collect

Me and my new eyes

Seeing freedom in all of the city lights

Windows flash by

Glass that's never known the reflection

of my Narcissistic boy with an innocent child's toy

I drive as a whole in the front seat of my truck

Breathing it all in

My hand clutches my own heart

His parts are scraped hither

Just more gutter litter

Waiting for the next storm

To dearly depart

I'm Still Learning

    You learn a lot about men throughout your daily existence as a womxn. Personally, I take most of my lessons from when (to their dismay) I've had no interest in having their existence enter my bubble and when I have had their penis inside of me whether I wanted it or not. However, the greatest lessons come from those that you once had sex with but no longer entertain. How the treatment changes when the chances of getting sucked off dissipate. You're no longer a good buddy, and arguably never were.

During my relationship with Z, I started to wonder if I was perhaps Asexual. That's how blurred my reality had become. I believed it had to be about me and not about how I was being touched or the fact that I'd had maybe a handful of orgasms during our violent and toxic sex life.

As I sit here pissed off and on the brink of yet another attack of tears and fears, I question the sanity in myself and all of the other womxn who continue to have sex with cisgender heterosexual men. I have never been pleased by a man in any way that outshines my own grit and smooth vibrating toy. The world makes us mad. I can't name one reason I'd need a man in my life. I can only repeat back what I've heard since I was a child. Who will open that jar? Who will reach the top shelf? Who will protect you? What about true love?! Twin Flame & Soul Mate! You'll find your missing puzzle piece, one day. I call bullshit. I am a 10,000-piece puzzle all on my own. There are no missing pieces and there never have been. Some assholes have just tried to shake up any progress I've made. I can open my own jars... or not. I have a chair and I can buy a ladder. There are no soul mates and twin flames.

I was born into an abusive home, raised in a cult, and proceeded to be emotionally, mentally, physically, and sexually abused so many times that I have to remind myself that it's not acceptable and not to be normalized. Men do not protect us. I've seen this in who my peers have chosen to associate with. I've seen it in the men appointed by "God". I've seen it within the eyes of the man pointing a gun at my head. I felt the full weight of this burden, as I held a crying child behind my body while I screamed for help. Too many men walked by that day, a security guard with a taser even ignored my pleas for help. I heard a lot of: "If I had been there, I would have *grumble grumble grumble*". Well, I was there, and I did do something. Proving once again, that men do not protect; men destroy, they claim things then stride around the biggest thing they've tried to grab hold of: Earth. They are so far convinced that they are "The Knight" in armor just waiting for their time to shine. They believe they are nice guys.

I shouldn't have to apologize for harming the ego of a man when I write, "men are trash". That man should maybe just shut the fuck up and figure out what he needs to fix about himself. This isn't our responsibility. Men kill womxn and children. They start wars to prove they've got the biggest balls. We are raped and assaulted, then put in a place where we have to convince everyone that it happened; some of us stay silent because it is far easier to wage a war within our very being than it is to simply talk. Men recover in their careers, as we become smaller.

We become unwilling side-characters in the tales of crazy, spiteful bitches, while they ride in on a tank disguised as a chariot. So I'm digging trenches and covering them with Mother Nature. Their tanks will fall and they will never make it up to my fortress again. I am prepared to get myself off in multiples, buy what I want, watch what I want, wear what I want, and to never again hear someone make fun of my love for music. I will live for myself. No man shall take that from me again and then get away with it. Maybe it's time we do instigate something. May we gather around our cauldrons. Let us unite and set fire to every organization, group, and person that enables and willingly participates in the damage we are hit with every time we leave the house. Oh fuck, the monsters even come into our homes.

I end with this question: "How many men are actually a friend to womxn?" I look around and I can't see a single thing that makes me confident in any cisgender heterosexual man I meet and know. That's on them.

I'm done.

Bad Habits, Naughty Boys

     He was a habit and a key component to my cycle. I seek out the familiar, relate to pain, strive to fix and paint lies a rosy hue. It's what I've always known, and the unknown is scarier. There is no hope. When you are broken you can't see the future including anything healthy or safe. So he got away with touching me as he did and I stayed. The only question I can't seem to answer is how I seemed to have fallen so deeply in love with such a cutthroat Narcissist. I'm sure every boy/man leading up to him, trickle down the breadcrumbs I definitely need to escape from this vast forest.

Women are poked, prodded, and molded the moment they take their first breath. We learn early on that "boys will be boys" and that we should shrink and fit into the boxes placed before us. How often did we hear "Awwwww! If he's picking on you that means he likes you"? Boys were essentially raised with a different outlook on cruelty. Entitlement sets in early on, and we see the repercussions as we walk through this dangerous world. Cat-calling is supposed to be a compliment. I was 11 years old the first time I was cat-called. A drink at the bar is payment towards attention and the desire to make our body theirs; all for $8. In the same breath men shit-talk sex workers. We can't escape the vortex of Toxic Masculinity. It swarms around us; harming our fellow womxn every day.... no, every second.

So we love men. We pretend that they will be different. We settle, make excuses every time we have to mother them, and take on the role of educator who gives them blow jobs. Every time we hear them gag on a toothbrush, resentment builds. Every time we have to walk around, or even more vile, step on a pile of their snot and spit; the resentment is back. Pounding against every fiber of our being. This is their world.

The Patriarchy is so deeply ingrained in all we see. On May 11th, 2022, I became a victim (one day survivor) of yet another violent crime. Since then, me and my friends have been running in circles trying to gain protection. The cops obviously did nothing. The Victim Advocate we were connected to through the lovely Salt Lake City Police Department did nothing. We keep hearing "It's just the system." If this were a drinking game we'd surely be drunk.

So I reached out to The Lauren McCluskey Foundation. If anything, I just needed our story to be heard by someone who cares, and they promise to listen and believe you when you are feeling threatened. I reached out to Get Gephardt from the local news station. I have yet to hear back, which is not surprising. I have found a Victim Advocate through the District Attorney. She actually seems to care, and even went so far as to say "he is scary" which is more validating than anything else we've heard from those working within our government. 

I came back to Utah with the intention of healing from all of the abuse and violence I've formerly endured. I came to grow. I came to learn how to sit with myself and be content with what I was feeling. I was punched in the face by a man while protecting a child not even 10 minutes after we'd finished moving into our new apartment at The Kensington. He told us he'd get out, he'd come back and it would be worse. We discovered violent priors all the way back to 1994; harming women, ignoring a protective order, a gun charge, assault; that's just the tip of the iceberg. He started watching us, right across the street. We begged the police (ACAB) to do anything at all because we were desperate and had no where else to turn. We are pretty sure he was following us one night when we walked around the block; but no one cared. We begged for a protection order/stalker injunction during our journey through the court house, nobody seemed worried or bothered each and every time we had to repeat our trauma.

So we had to leave our apartment. We had to mourn the loss of yet another future stolen from us by a man and "the system". We are not living there but we are still paying rent because The Kensington refuses to release us from our lease even though they knew a violent criminal lived in the building. They knew he was beating his wife and step-kids. They just didn't care. The Kensington doesn't care even today.

So I am not healing from anything right now. I'd be lying if I said there weren't days I've almost relapsed. To be a womxn is to be an unwilling soldier in a world war we didn't start. So to the assholes that claim womxn who want to be equal should also be required to be drafted into their battles: We were born into your ravenous fray of rape, chaos, and death.

YOU instigate shit every day.

WE are expected to step aside and stay quiet.

I scream "NO".

“You will not fucking touch her.”

Let him...

“Let him be kept 

from paper, pen, and ink;

so he may cease to write 

and learn to think.”