I’m not usually an early morning blogger. Hell, I’m not usually early morning person, but this morning when my alarm went off at six am my brain was already yawning and rummaging in it’s cupboards for caffeine. By the time I was in the shower my brain was sitting at it’s typewriter with coffee in one and hand and impatiently tapping it’s desk with the other. My brain doesn’t trust technology, “what has it done for me? I do all the work” it says with an arrogant smile. So, I rushed along my morning routine so I could catch up and be ready to type up all the words my brain was dying to get out. 

So now we both sit with coffee in hand. You’re welcome by the way, brain. I was hoping to drop the caffeine, but I guess you had other ideas. I feel a ping in my skull. Okay, Okay. You’re right. Shut up and write

First and foremost I want to thank all of you who reached out to me last night after my distress soaked post last night. I was indulging in my pain and do so quite often. I soothed my soul last night with a benzo, cartoons and snuggling my stuffed pinkie pie. I essentially revert back to a child whenever my parents tear into me, except I have access to drugs. And I know what drugs are. I guess I can’t completely blame them for getting me stuck in that phase, though their constant drinking and invalidation of my feelings about it didn’t help. I could have pulled myself up and taken control of my life instead of consistently relying on people who weren’t going to be there. I was a child though, how should I know any better? I’m still a child today, but I understand shortcomings better than most. We all have our own demons. My demons follow me every where, my demons are ingrained into my personality. My emotional vulnerability, my child like tantrums. my inability to see the world for anything more than the very good or the disastrously bad.  There’s more to my demons than that though, there’s my overflowing sense of empathy, there’s my heartache for every living thing, there’s my love for all things sweet and pretty. 

I do accept that I am damaged, but I am not destroyed. 



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14 responses to “damaged

  1. hellokalykitty

    This made me smile. “Damaged but not destroyed “.


  2. Sunshine

    Our “child” is just as important as we are…hugs :-)


  3. “I do accept that I am damaged, but I am not destroyed”. I love that!!


  4. When it gets like that I become my own parent. I voluntarily separate the part of me that is scared and crying to the part that is a responsible adult, and care for it the way I would a child.

    Love that phrase as well: “damaged but not destroyed”.


  5. “I do accept that I am damaged, but I am not destroyed.”

    A good quote that I won’t be forgetting, makes me feel a little stronger for some reason.


  6. Mandi

    I too love your last words and can apply it to my own life as well. I feel like my experiences did affect who I am, but I won’t give it (them) all the “power”. I really like how you worded that.


  7. I love the line “my brain was already yawning and rummaging in it’s cupboards for caffeine.” So good.

    You’ve probably seen that image that goes around the internet about Japanese pottery, and how they turn brokeness into something beautiful, but in case you haven’t: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kintsugi

    I’ve always identified with brokeness, and this concept of beauty from brokeness really appeals to me.


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