Stop thinking of yourself as the victim. 

For the longest time I was the victim. I grew accostomed to it that eventually, when I wasn’t a victim anymore I continued to play one because I didn’t know any other way to be. 

Now that I’m on my own and trying to find my happiness I’m recognizing this as a severe flaw. I’m realizing that this is the reason indrive people away. This is the reason everyone leave. This is the reason I have trust issues. I’m not the victim anymore. If anything, I’ve become the villain. 

I need to learn to trust, to not jump to conclusions, to love freely (including myself), and to let things go. I need to stop holding grudges. I need to learn to stop shutting down at the slightest of mishaps. I need to learn to stop cutting people out of my life. It’s not simpler, it’s just an excuse to feel bad for myself. 

I need to learn to be a better person/ friend/ mother/ and self. I’m working on it. I really am. It’s just going to take a lot of time. 


Bus Trip

A while ago I added “get lost on the public buses” to my immediate bucket list. 

I decided to take that trip today. An all day bus pass only costs $4. It’s a cheap way to just hop around town and see where the day takes you. 

I quickly realized that my subconscious wasn’t going to let me get lost. It had a plan of its own. 

On my journey I made many stops, all of which were photographs of the past with friends and loved ones. It turned out to be a trip down memory lane. As I smiled at each memory I began to realize that I’ve had a really good life. 

Yes, I have Harry Potter moments where I mention some of the hard cards I’ve been dealt in life, but I’ve had really great moments as well. Every place I stopped today had some great memory associated with it. It’s time for me to recall those memories more often than I recall the bad ones. The small happy memories outnumber the big sad memories by far. It’s time to look at it that way and appreciate the experiences I’ve had in this life. 

The last lesson on this bus trip was realizing my own independent strength and where I got that strength from. My mother taught me to ride the public buses. She didn’t let the fact that we were without a car stop her from doing things that needed to be done. I know she was dependent on my brother and I in a lot of ways, but what I didn’t realize until today was that she was also fiercely independent as well. I appreciate the lessons she taught me, and I appreciate my own strength. 


The rain reminds me of:

The boy with a sweet face who was taken from us too early. 
The people who drove by and splashed puddles up to my knees while I waited for the bus. 

When I ran from home on nights my mom called me whore and slut. 

The grey walls and the small monitor on visitation days. 

When I cried because you said we would only be friends due to the distance. 

Our hands entwined in the backseat of your parent’s car when your dad said mean things to you. 

Always saying goodbye to everyone I love.