I just want to be

Sinner with the broken wings

How is it that you still sing?

I sing for glory and holy light

I sing with passion to set all right

But when the devil comes to play

I sing with broken wings on display

For I am a sinner through and through

And it is through him that I get to you

Hi! I am queer. I have no safe space. There is no place that welcomes me. Yet, I am supposed to delude myself into thinking that there is. I know that I am not wanted but I have been told that it is better to think that there is.

I used to have someone I could talk to. A person who I felt like would always be there for me. Sure we would fight every once in awhile. I can not tell you the amount of times I told them I hated them. But I was raised in a home where family was supposed to mean everything. When your parents are gone you only have your cousins, your siblings, your aunts and uncle, to stand by your said. So for this person to betray me as they did hurts. It hurts so fucking bad because at one point there were my best friend.

See my coming out story was pretty bland. Which, I should be grateful that it ended up being that way seeing as others can not say the same. My mother was one of the first I told and she was super cool about it. Way to cool if we are being honest because she soon told me about all the girls friends she had while I was younger and would often ask for peoples numbers while we were out and about. Really, nothing screams “please kill me” moments like watching as your mother flirts with people of all genders anytime she walked out the house. So yes, my coming out was pretty bland.

I had some people who made my life hell but they really didn’t matter. My mother was ok with it. As was my siblings. But that soon changed. A few years back my sister discovered christ and what used to be ok was now one of the things that tore us apart. Now, she spends every moment she can sprouting bible verses and telling me I will go to hell. That I am an abusive mother because I surround my kid in such sinful teachings. She talks about race a lot as well. Blaming white people for all of our problems and how they need to eradicated. But I am the monster.

No one seems to care though. My mother, the women who made my coming out story so boring and uneventful is now constantly telling me that I need to forgive her. Because when she is gone my sister is all I will have left. But what my mother doesn’t understand is that I am used to being alone. I don’t need such toxic people in my life to make myself feel something anymore. So why should I forgive her?

If I am going to hell I rather it be because the love I chose to live with over the hate I would have should I hide.

Someone once loved and lost

Black bird resting on my shoulder

Defeated whispers

A cautious tale

Dare I grasp on to darken feathers

Allow my soul to remember

A friend who left me to the sea

Wyvern claws into broken wings

Grasping at these darkened dreams

Dare I take hold to keep safe

A cautious tale

Of retribution and hate

Murder caws into the wind

Twining with the wyvern like an old forgotten friend

A soul infected

I am writing this after seeing a post from a blogger talking about her parenting experience during the pandemic.

Now, she isn’t the only one to write about it. Probably 1 of millions if we are being completely honest. Yet, hers is the first one I had even bothered to look at. Not that there wasn’t any chance to do so, because like I said, plenty of people are writing about this topic. I just haven’t been in a place where I could read about other experiences. So when taking the dive to finally understand what others are doing it is interesting that I ran across hers.

This experience has been trying. As many of my readers know I have a mental disorder. One that can make like a bit more complicated than it needs to be. One would think that this pandemic has scattered me. Made it hard to do much of anything as I curled into a ball awaiting the day we all die. Really, that isn’t remotely near enough to the panic state I have been thrust into.

Instead, image this, a mother and her child sitting on the couch binge watching movies. Cut to a few hours later when said mother is in her room while her child is in a different area. They are both doing different activities but both are quiet. They are content in ways you wouldn’t image would be the case in such situations. They are happy with the lack of responsibility.

But, if you wish to stick around a little longer, you will find the child sleeping and the mother crying alone in her room.

That is my reality.

See, I am used to staying home. Honestly not having to pretend to be happy while around other humans is amazing. I hate my job. I hate school. But I love them so much that I can’t stand myself. A perfect contradiction I know. But that is where I am right now. I am happy to be home and away from the world but I will it all the same.

I miss my co-workers. To the point that I have messaged my boss and a few others to check on them from time to time. I miss my fellow classmates. So much so that I wish there was a way to reach out. Zoom dinner date while we talk about Philosophy and how Socrates would have tots been a frat boy is given the chance. I miss my family and friends.

But by the grace of every deity, if given the chance to stay like this forever I would be grateful. I would welcome it with open arms and scream fuck y’all to the wind. Just me and my daughter, no school and no work. Yes please.

But, my reality makes it so I can not. I do not want this.

So there are days when things are good. I am “fun”(coughlamecough) mom. Singing and dancing while cleaning. Cooking meals and helping my kiddo with homework.you want to make some slime kid? I gotchu boo. Wanna jump on the bed? Fuck the neighbors, they know what we about! We will drown ourselves in laughter and not care about anyone else.

But there are also bad days.

Ones where I can not stop crying. When homework becomes a chore. When ignore the notifications from my daughters teaching asking if she has done her work. My house is a mess and the neighbors love me. My daughter has to fight the silence. Because mommy can not stand sounds. Everything hurts until it doesn’t. Ever tried to parent while feeling numb? As though someone else is living your life and you are playing third wheel to another’s reality. You, the voices, and the one who is in control. All fighting for recognition. With a child who is just to young to understand that not now means maybe next week sweety mommy is to busy fighting her demons.

I have gone a few days without realizing anything. A few hours where I can’t recall what I have done.

This pandemic has been a life saver in some ways. Allowing me to relax and give into my inner desire to stay away from the world.

But it has also been much like the beginning of every disaster movie. Only this one doesn’t end with a love interest and a white fence blocking out the burning city.

What time to be alive.

Please check out this fellow blogger who shared her story and inspired me to write me own. Also feel free to share you own experience while parenting (or aunting and uncleing, or cousining or sibling…ing… ok I’ll stop) during all that is going on.

Blog in question is Grieving Out loud. Thank you so much for sharing your story about mothering through the pandemic. While are experiences are vastly different in many ways I enjoy what you wrote. Seriously, I adore just about everything you write.

Tricks

I have spoken a curse

As I lay in bed I begin to think of all the reasons I may have failed today. From sleeping in till noon. To ignoring my daughter as she gives an extensive recap to the movie we just finished watching…for the fifth time this week. I don’t think I am doing enough but what else is there to do? The school work that has since piled up? The text messages and phone calls that never came should probably be returned. But will I? Probably not. I do not think that I will change.

Admits all of this turmoil I do not think that I can. It is a blessing really

Or rather a curse.

For here sit complaining about my lack of action as if it is the fault of someone else. Maybe it would better if it was. The blame doesn’t sit right in my skin. Woo that line. Please refrain of harping at me if I happened to use it in a poem. I am a very petty poet with angsty dreams and one must never stray from ones comfort zone.

But I digress.

I think it would better if I do not speak such curses outloud. Keep them bottled up inside and try to appear normal. That is the goal we all share right? Be normal

Feel normal

Exude such normalcy that it becomes instinctive to the soul.

Curses only hurt those who…

Oh who am I kidding

Normal is boring…

Bring on the pain.

A different kind of update

I haven’t felt like writing lately. Mainly because I have a job that keeps me tired on top of going to school. Neither of these task are things I am enjoying completely. I like work but I don’t at the same time. I love school but I am failing because I can’t seem to care. I lack motivation to do more then attend classes. But I am starting to not even want to do that anymore. People are kind there. Same with work, people are so very kind at times.

So I wonder why I am having so many problems.

Sure “Duh Jessi, you have depression and BPD”

Yea I get that but that doesn’t mean I like it ya know. Those explain fairly well why I can’t do some things but I enjoy my job. I enjoy going to school so why can’t these aspects just pick something else to make me less motivated to do. Like reading? I can deal with not being up to reading. I mean I am not up to reading now but that is something it can prevent me from doing just fine. Or hey, what about talking to people. I can go forever without talking to a single person outside of school and work (because I have to not because I want to). I can delete social media and my phone service and be as happy as clam chowder. But no

Nope

Nada

You choose school and work to be the things that make me want to self harm over.

Great thinking brain.

You think good.

I was told not to share my problems

I complain to much

Because what I have inside of me

Is enough to garner me empathy

But only for a time or two

I need to stay silent

And far away

Because up close and personal

It isn’t enough

To keep contempt and revenge

From sneaking in

I was told to keep my mouth shut

By a friend of a friend of a friend

If only to remain unseen

So they can be seen as clean

I truly hate December

I made this blog as a way to work through my own emotions. But there are times when I wish I could something a bit more meaningful. This is not one of those times. Today is a different day. A day in which I truly do wish to die.

I think about it often enough but overall I am scared. I think that is because I might possibly actually want to lie and it is the pain and depression that I suffer with that I want to go. But every Avenue leads to more depression and more suffering. I have people I talk to but it seems as though I have to constantly update them on the fact that I have not gotten better. Because as soon as I do something that seems a bit abnormal they fight back with “Oh what but I that things were better now”

No, but shall I wear a scarlet letter upon mine breast so that you may see that I am, in fact, quit ill.

But if I were to send them updates they will do something drastic. Like take away my child and deem me an unfit parent. Or go out of there way to make my life hell in other ways. Such as sending me to the mental ward of a nearby hospital.

Which, mind you, I have been to those hospitals. Enough times that I could probably teach a class within it. I know the material by heart and am currently going to school for psychology and social work. So really how exactly are any of these supposed to help me or make me trust others.

Instead I wish people would listen. I want them to actually sit down and talk to me and help me build a plan. Hold me accountable yes, but also make sure you hold up your end of the bargain.

I am almost positive that I want to die. I crave not feeling anything anymore. But I can’t do that to my little one. I can’t ruin her life for the sake of my own salvation. Instead I will suffer along hoping that someone takes the time to listen to me.

Please don’t sue me

I have read a lot about domestic violence. In some cases I find myself blaming the victim and in others I can sympathize with them. I believe it is only human to lean one way or the other with hearing of such terrible things. Yet there is one thing that pisses me off. The idea that men can not be victims of abuse. Or if they are it is only those in same-sex relationships. This is because time and time again people respond to cases with a male victim that he is just weak. Men should be able to stand up to women. Cases where men do not mean that they are weak and deserve it. So what if they got raped, they should enjoy the free sex.

Right?

It is bothersome really…no that is not the correct word. I feel a much stronger emotion when faced with the people who believe in those things. Yes, male victims are statistically lower but they are still important. Men should be allowed to come forward without being ridiculed and hated…or envied. What is wrong with people that they envy such an encounter???

I have read a lot about domestic violence. I am human in the way I judge the situation. But no matter the reason I believe that everyone has the right to justice. Everyone has a right to be heard. Everyone has a right to seek freedom without…judgement.

Thanks for coming.

Side note: Stop shitting on LGBT couples people. Seriously I have read a crappy ton of books lately and why is it that every book I have read someone is leaving an abusive relationship. Find another reason to make people break up LGBT authors. Seriously. Can’t we have them break up over something mundane like not being in love anymore. Or just like idk maybe one of them had to move away for a job. Or hell kill one of them. In the last 30 books I have read with a romantic theme pretty much 70% of them had something to do with someone leaving an abusive relationship. Granted I am reading a series where everyone and they momma got a sob story but come on!! I read a lot about domestic violence, from real life stories to fictional ones. Sob stories are kind of my thing if you haven’t been able to tell.

Go ahead and sue me

I think it sounds beautiful, the screaming. I want you to keep begging. Even the score between husband and whore. Come! Let me make a man out of you. One all the little boys and little girls can look up to. Scream a bit louder so the neighbors can hear. Fight a bit faster so they can know you feel fear. Because I want to make a man out of you. Society may judge me but they will never stand. You, a pathetic creature, have proven yourself a half man. So yes, let me hear you. Let me feast on your tears. No one will help you because no one else cares.