Stories of the Lost and Found

 ~ Clutter (verb / noun)  I. To crowd (something) untidily; fill with clutter II. A collection of things lying about in an untidy mass.  III. An untidy state  • • •  ~ Chaos (noun)  I. Complete disorder and confusion  II.  A confused mass or jumble of things, or a state of utter confusion. • • •  Whether or not you have grown, failed, relished, thrived, survived, lived, and breathed inside and throughout a chaotically cluttered type of world it becomes difficult to pinpoint where the root of said chaos is and what that chaos actually is is.  Is it the environment you’re surrounded by? Is it the mindset you hold?  Is it a choice, a feeling, an act, or a state of being? Is it hoarding sentimental trinkets for decades, storing them inside of boxes and bags just to store them inside additional boxes and bags?  Is it carefully sealed memory boxes holding a plethora of trinkets from a 2005 “Nacho Libre” movie stub to handwritten midd...

 "The best thing about rock bottom is the rock part. You discover the solid bit of you. The bit that can't be broken down any further. The thing that you might sentimentally call a soul. At our lowest we find that the solid ground of our foundation. And we can build ourselves anew." The ability to understand, comprehend, and accept ones own actions that lead to their downfall takes a different set of skills. It takes a mindset that is typically built within oneself through time, events, and mistakes. It takes strength, accountability, self reflection, and realization that even  you  can fail - even when you had the best of intentions. Through my mere thirty years in this world I've learned a lot. Yet, I still have not learned enough. What I have learned? Perfection does not, and will not ever, truly exist.  There is no answer to life, there is no answer to success, and there is no answer to how to please others. There is only you, and the person you s...

My mind is an after hours speakeasy, a wild tumbleweed  Calculating, meticulous  33 x 2 - that’s 66 The number I associate with underlying (and) penetrating, splitting psychosis  On any given day, I make my (own) self sick (Becoming) Completely unhinged, losing my grip (Always) surrounded by people pleasing hypocrites  Wound so tight, yet light as a feather  Don’t you ever want to get (be) better? What would they think? Her, him, he or she? (You’re) Always running from what you used to be  What would they think? As they go tit for tat Life’s a ballgame - batter up - it’s your turn at bat round for round? Hit back cold, hard - the real essence of your soul won’t ever be found  What would they think? If you decided to be free?  Roaming and roaming, thoughtlessly  Free from the ever growing bigotry  Waking up from the cookie cutter make believe  Cluttered with juxtapositional houses, white picket fences, manicured lawns  Magnolia ...

“Village Kids” Originally Posted May 8th, 2022 • • • Mother’s Day. A single, sole date of the year on which mothers are honored by their children in many of ways: Ditch daises picked by the little blond mini-me in her best dress, no shoes, and little pigtails blowing in the breeze as she runs yelling, “MOMMY! MOMMY! I picked you a flower.” Candy chosen with care - ensuring all her favorites are there. Don’t forget the almond joys. Handmade construction paper cards with painted handprints titled “I love you, Mom!” Family get togethers with a plethora of food, laughter, story telling, and memories. Breakfast-in-Bed made by the little tiny humans, hair still stuck up from waking up out of bed without bothering to brush their teeth - or their cowlick. It is a beautiful thing to witness - a family. A real one. An unbroken one. A bond like no other. It is also a feeling I have craved since before a time I can recall memories. It is the reason for so many years I have woken up angry, and bitt...

There are often times I get praised for the way I handle life's back-to-back to back hits and while my answer tends to throw people off with my honesty- and transparency- it's genuinely the truth: I'm accustomed to it- and I have been my entire life. I am accustomed to the chaos, and what comes with it. I am accustomed to the loneliness of losing, and having to heal. I am accustomed to being broken, and having to pick up the pieces to recreate myself as a mosaic. I am accustomed to heartache, the grief, the defeat, the pain, the stress, and having to mask it in order to succeed. What I was not accustomed to, or ever thought I'd have to learn, is learning to love again after losing. Learning to trust, not to simply fill a void and create a short-term bond. Learning that I am worthy, even when I feel as if I am not. And learning that in order to love again? You need to understand that not everyone will understand. I had a co-worker say something to me this last week: “You...

Growing up I imagined my life a lot differently- looking back all I see is naiveness. "What do you want to be when you grow up?" was the common question. Back then it was simple: a teacher, a veterinarian, a doctor. If you went to college right out of High School, you were on the right track. If you were married by the age of 25, you were doing something right. Back then everything was simple. Being a child is being guarded from the ugliness of the world and what the world can become. Being a child is pure, euphoric, infinite.  As life moves ceaselessly forward that innocence is peeled away; year after year, layer after layer.   The foundation we are taught to build upon is not a foundation for everyone. Often that foundation will crumble, time and time again, for those who will suffer in silence- as they'll pick their pieces up silently. If I've learned anything at all it's that the only person I can trust is myself- because the only person who can save you, is y...