Tangled Up In Lace

May 11

We all know I have my Mommy Dearest baggage, but despite it all, I really have so much love, admiration, respect and reverence for all the beautiful powerhouses in my life that call themselves mothers. It is absolutely one of the hardest positions to take and it fills me with so much joy to witness your greatness. You are seen, appreciated and worshiped. Thank you to all those who took me in growing up and gave me what I yearned for, thank you to those who show me every day what it looks like to mother in ways that build up, encourage and heal and thank you to those who hold me and support me into becoming the mother I hope to be one day ♥

Apr 27

Every day I hold, in my hands, smell, touch and feel, all the ways I’m healing and encouraging that Little Girl

She got away and it saved her.

I ate 5 freezer corndogs in one sitting the other day and felt like crying, but didn’t because I didn’t want to talk about it, because it felt good to do that in a place where it wasn’t going to follow me if I didn’t want it to.

It felt rich.

I enjoyed every minute of it.

My hair looks really fucking gay and people who used to walk right through me, think about what my masses would look like bouncing back off their strapons and it makes my blood curdle.

You won’t ever get this and I’m growing my hair out.

We don’t have two pennies to rub together but every day with Them feels like an all expense paid vacation to Heaven

My dad keeps calling and leaving sloppy beer soaked pleas and all of a sudden I’m sitting next to a neat pile of hair wondering why you won’t get real so the rest of us can go on.

I’m seeing Her in my face and gestures more and more every day and I’m just trying to figure out how to forgive without falling.

But don’t any of you feel worried about me because I never think of you and every day when I remind myself to keep not to thinking about you, it makes me stronger.

Don’t keep in touch

Don’t stay cool over the summer

I don’t 143

Mar 11

High-res

helterskelterscenario:

tangledupinlace:

Say what you will about Daddy Issues, because Gaia knows I have those too.

But the ache and longing of my Mommy Issues stick to my bones like cold molasses.

Therapy since I was 7yrs old and I still find myself licking wounds. Wounds that I thought I had done the work to heal and yet, here were are, just as scared of you as I was then

I’ve started writing you letters that I have no intention of your tired eyes ever reading. Letters that tell you that in spite of everything, pesky baggage included, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. That my heart is trying to not feel like a traitor when it remembers a piece of you fondly.

Like the way you’ve worn the same scent since I can remember, or the way the Toyota always smelled like cigarettes, hairspray and fried zucchini from Carl’s Jr. even if we hadn’t had money for Carl’s Jr. in weeks. Like I was keeping the smell in the car so that the drive from the apartment to school didn’t feel as loaded with doubt and fear, knowing that as soon as I closed the door to the car, you’d be out there all alone in the world, just you, your triggers and episodes and the world. Finding the air in my young lungs to take in and savor that stale air and still belt out ‘Barracuda’ with your same fervor.

I’d sit in class, hearing the kids talk about their slumber parties and ice skating practice with my nose buried in my ratty fleece jacket you stole from your old job at the shipyard, searching out that smell like a bloodhound. I truly believed if I could keep the smell all day, organize everything in multiples of 3’s and 5’s, and never step on a crack in the sidewalk or a white tile in the hallway, you’d be there after school, smiling and lucid.

I wouldn’t have been so diligent about it all if I had been able to understand sooner that no matter what I did, because I tried it all, you wouldn’t be there to pick me up and I’d have to take the bus around your usual haunts only to not find you and walk down the hallway of our building against the sound of your wild cackling to find that your new boyfriend had given you a ride home and was already getting too comfortable with the way the carpet felt between his disgusting toes.

I hated that wood carving of my name he made me and the way he promised you the moon and stars only to throw your heart away like the rest of them.

I hate the way you give away your wild heart to men who never understood it and could never be strong enough to try to and the way Dad wouldn’t even stop the car when he dropped me off after his weekends because the looming fear of you catching up with him made his balls shrink up into his body. But he missed you

I miss you.

Missing you is calming, supportive and nurturing. Missing you means I can remember the smell of fried zucchini and White Diamonds but know that the people I have now will be there when they say they will and that when they hold me, I don’t have to dig my fingernails in. They’re sticking around. They want to be here.

I keep dreaming I have orange blonde hair with burnt sepia roots

-i have never see anything more relevant then this

I’m feeling a lot again

(Photo reblogged from helterskelterscenario)

Feb 17

“

I grew up poor, hated, the victim of physical, emotional, and sexual violence, and I know that suffering does not ennoble. It destroys. To resist destruction, self-hatred, or lifelong hopelessness, we have to throw off the conditioning of being despised, the fear of becoming that ‘they’ that is talked about so dismissively, to refuse lying myths and easy moralities, to see ourselves as human, flawed and extraordinary. All of us — extraordinary.

Dorothy Allison (“A Question of Class”)

(Source: missdelaniee)

(Quote reblogged from grrlyman)

Dec 11

tw: abuse, emotional processing and weird broken up lines

the reality is when i first got here i was like,” all fat all the time”, when i wasn’t like, “all substance abuse all the time” or “all mommy issues all the time”.

and maybe that’s mostly still true for me.

except that when i made a big decision to move for love, to move to heal and to move to do something that would mean my life was moving forward instead of petrifying into a useless wad of nothingness collecting dust in san diego

a lot of what we thought would happen was met with what really happened

and what really happened was a lot more than a girl with loads of pain and disappointment expected she could deserve

with a soul i’m sure i’ve loved before in another place except we’re loving each other in this place now wrapped up in the laughter and the squirting orgasms and the truth that when we reach out, there will always be a hand reaching back

and a lot of realizing that i was working pretty damn hard to help strangers love themselves and others better in ways that could feel really good, but i was doing it for free, or at the cost of my sympathies and caretaker guilt when i really had so much work to do with my own piles of messes

because when i finally had the safety of a good happy home to look at my messes, i realized they were bigger than i had ever imagined

maybe before i just a mentally ill mother who hated my body

or the sour memories of my young sticky hands gripping food stamps white knuckled on the way to the store

or the current of electricity running through my body when she put her hand up my skirt by the soccer field in the 9th grade and the kick to the gut when i saw her again 6 years later and she pretended i was the one who stole from her and couldn’t even remember my name.

but now that i’m actually happy, like really really cartoony happy

i find myself finishing a beautiful meal with my wife in our warm home and a big crocodile tear falls into my dish

and my brain finds a memory of the night mother told me that if i didn’t finish my dinner, i’d stay there until she said i could leave

and i didn’t get to leave that table until the piss that soaked through my jumper and the chair had but almost dried and the sun had gone down and come back up again and the threat of someone finding out released me

which is funny when you think about it because really her fear was of me actually eating something and not the not eating, but you never did really know when she’d decide what deserved a firm hand and what deserved a negligent one

you also can never really know when your brain will give you back a memory that it took away before to protect you

and you can never really know why your brain couldn’t just keep the fucking thing where it belonged, in that sweet dark forgetting place

but these memories are back and that’s what i do know

so i haven’t forgotten about you all

in fact i think about you all the time

it’s just that i’m just spending quite a bit of time with these visitors

holding their hands

talking it out with them

and mostly

finding the tools to ready myself for the rest of them

because i can feel the ache in my bones telling me there will be more

so maybe you can be my diary for a little while longer

and we can share these tools with each other

we can share the days of two pairs of eyelashes and walking under the shade of arbutus tree and fisting into crygasms

and we can hold each other up on those days where you start laughing and it melts into a heaving sob

let’s just hold hands real tight for now and swish our hips to the beat

Nov 02

The thing about impending birthdays is that they make you see your broken past and overgrown adult baby parents with some really sweet faux emotionally detached rose colored glasses and you get cake

Oct 23

Me and Mom

ellenbee:

duhdoydorothy:

ME: She tried to shame me!
MOM: The cashier? Oh no.
ME: How dare someone wearing Uggs try to make ME feel bad.
MOM: Do you remember the Schnuck’s shuffle?
ME: I remember getting groceries at Schnuck’s…
MOM: When you guys were little, me and my other mom friends had a little con. If you didn’t have grocery money, but you knew you were getting paid in a day or two, you would just pay with a check and the money would be there by the time it went through.
ME: …
MOM: So basically, you write a hot check. That’s what you should have done! Then you’d have groceries.

1. my mom used to do this all the time
2. only at aldi or shop ‘n save, because schnuck’s was always a little too fancy for us

My mom too! Also using your credit card on weekends, so you could max it out way over the limit since all the charges will go through on Monday.

Also we for sure did the move where you throw every can on the ground to get a discount (when Big Daddy came out in theaters I sobbed at that part and every one of my middle class friends were like @_@ at me)

Or my mom would bring a washable marker into the thrift store and mark the clothes we wanted and ask for 50% off

(Post reblogged from ellenbee)