You didn’t know how to handle trauma, No shame in that, most people don’t unless they’ve been trained or been through it themselves, But you were too arrogant to admit your ignorance and unwilling to listen or take guidance and direction, Instead of admitting you didn’t know how to help me, You got angry at me for needing help, You tried for a while, then decided that I was the problem, You got angry and screamed and pushed me away, And then, after I overcame the kind of loyalty I’ve always had that causes me to devalue myself in favor of others, When I finally left, You turned around to all who could hear you and said, “See? She left! What was I supposed to do? Couldn’t stop her from leaving. Her traumas were too much for her. She made some crazy choices. Not my fault.” Did you feel better then? Vindicated? Did the part of you that feared to admit ignorance quiet down inside of you so that you could finally sleep at night, Secure in the “fact” that th

This is not my first apocalypse, In fact, it is my fifth one in the last two years, The fifth time I’ve had to stop and accept That things are never going to go back to the way they were, That normal was only a temporary term And stability was simply an illusion While each apocalypse is completely unique and distinct in its own way, There are commonalities that run through all of them, Loss , of loved ones, of stability, of the way things were, of the idea that I can predict with some measure of accuracy what tomorrow is going to look like, Grief , for what we’ve lost, what can never be again, Anger , especially when the choices of others lead to the loss, and when we cannot seem to stop it, Acceptance , realizing with every fiber of your being that the world you knew is never, ever, ever coming back, those who are dead really won’t be here next Christmas, Those who have decided they will only be your friend if you do what they say really won’t ever ch

To the earnest, innocent, child I was, Working so hard to please the God they told me He was And to the Christians who feel the same way now: You work and you strive, giving it everything you’ve got and then some Until you’re so burned out on life, your only hope is to rest in Heaven one day, And yet you still feel you are falling short You beg and you plead for God to reveal to you His ways and His will, Because you’re so sure He has a plan for your life that you are just about to mess up, And you want one clear sign, An email or a roadmap or a message from a prophet, Or if that fails, A feeling called “having a peace about it” Or a “check in your spirit” So that you know you’re moving in the right direction Or at least not moving in the wrong one Oh you desire so much, so deeply, with all that you are To please the God who made you, Yahweh, who Fathers and loves you, Yahshua, who died on the cross for you, And His Holy Spirit, You ache

We cannot live for others, Cannot think that anyone else can see our beauty, Our unique contribution to existence, Cannot base our lives on what they say, For most are blind to those outside of their immediate circle, And 99.9% of the world does not realize How much you truly matter And how much poorer their lives would be without you Society says it would be safer and better For you to lock yourself away from them to die in a hole, But then for the first time, we recognize and consider some to be “essential,” Were they not essential all along? Though I don’t know the man at the chicken plant who is making it possible for me to eat dinner tonight, Can I not see the value in his contributions to my life? Do I need to travel halfway around the world To the countries where my clothes are made And see the process of creating the textiles that I use to keep myself warm and clothed every day? Must I meet the men and women who weave the fabrics and dye

We have lain in the place of deepest darkness, Curled up in a fetal position with our arms around our very core To protect ourselves from the next blow that is coming And to keep ourselves from shaking to pieces from the agony that we feel Because of the blows that have already fallen We have lost our closest loved ones, Watching them die slowly and then all at once, Coming upon their cold and ashen bodies And wondering how they could so closely resemble the ones we love, And yet be so entirely different We have stood at the precipice of the door of death, Hearing gunshot after gunshot And knowing that this, now, is our time to die, We are next, And there is no stopping what is coming We have been forced from our homes and all that is familiar, Leaving behind treasured memories and all sense of stability, We have journeyed a thousand miles One step at a time, And never asked where we were going Because we could not fathom what it would

The end of the year is always filled with aggravation and joy, Final exams and testing, The stress of wondering if we’ll make it through all of the last things to do So they’re prepared to go on to the next level, And we are prepared to let them go… I never thought I’d miss that stress! Not to mention all the other things that I always enjoyed: The end of the year concerts and performances and tournaments and dances and ceremonies, The unofficial class parties and those movies we show the last week of school (that are totally covering a learning standard if anybody asks) The pride in their faces when they unveil the culminating project they’ve been working on all quarter, The awards assembly and field day when I can let loose a little and I finally can talk to so-and-so Without having to remind him to sit in his seat and use his inside voice But what I’ll miss the most Is them, The goodbye hugs and final jokes, The little handmade cards and notes