So what’s your story …

Has anyone ever asked you that?  I vividly remember the day someone asked me “what’s your story” and I just stared at them not sure how to respond.  I remember not digging to deep and sheepishly answering “Well I’m 27 and a single mother of two kids”. She looked at me oddly and said is that it?   
I think about that day 6 years later and wonder if she really wanted to know “my story”.  My journey to that night where I was downing vodka, flirting with whoever I wanted, and likely ended up passed out or blacked out somewhere.  Just another weekend.  Did I look like, act like, resemble someone who had a story.  

How did I get here?  A place where from the exterior my life is moving along and may even look ideal to some.  I wake up, show up, try to look my best, put my best foot forward, try not to complain, and put a beautiful shade of lipstick over my lips and keep it moving.  I build and build and take some down and then remove a couple more…. bricks have always been apart of my story.  I’m on a rollercoaster.  I try to look up and often catch myself looking down.  

My story.  Sexual abuse, domestic violence, rape, abandonment.  Their story.  Two kids, no father, abandoned.  

Pull up a chair… Let me tell you a story about how and why I’m here, standing up, fighting to look up, and not wanting to give up.  

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Self-righteous …

… it’s not humble.  It’s not honest.  It’s not just being “real.”  

It’s prideful.  It’s selfish.  It’s cruel.

Let’s call it what it is, let’s be real.  You, my self-righteous brother, are an ass hole.  You are disrespectful and continue living in your excuse that you deserve to treat others poorly because you’ve been treated poorly.  You seek out an audience to cheer you on while you tear others down.  You’ve made your own definitions for the words blunt and honest.  

I HATE that the whole time I had an influence on your life I stood by and cheered you on instead of calling it what it is.  That man you hate so much, that man that made your life a living hell, the truth is you’re just like him.  Everything I hated about him, you are.  When you demean the love of your life, when you make your child feel less than because his ideas aren’t in line with yours, all of it…. it’s him.  A part of me wishes that I could tell you what you needed to hear 34 years ago…. that maybe would have changed the anger and selfpityness you carry.

The reality is though that in your bitterness and self loathing you’ve pushed away the ONLY one that stood by you through it all.  That hated for you, that fought for you, that loved for you, and that accepted you for you. 
It’s a lonely and long road only hearing your own voice….Peace and love brother ✌🏼️