You’re Actually NOT worth Less

Baby.

Love.

Honey.

Your life matters.

To Me.

For years I was a fucking people pleaser. Even when they knew I hated doing it, everyone around me watched as I did what I was told, even if I tried to push back against authority I always did what was expected of me. Eventually, or I willingly took on the consequences of not doing the thing I was supposed to.

There was no halfway with me. If I did something I fucking committed to doing it, if I didn’t do something, I fucking found a way not to do it.

I don’t mind telling you that I’ve railed at God a few times, and his fucking Angels. I laugh every time I walk down my street because there is a building shaped like a gun pointed right up at the Heaven’s as if to say “Fucking Try It.’ I kind of love my town because it sort of feels like no matter how bad it gets someone in this world wants me to tempt God in trying to kill me again.

I can’t stress this enough, the night I was gang raped it took several men to pull one off because he almost choked me to death.

I fought, I clawed, I screamed I yelled, I begged and pleaded and bargained and I found a way to survive that night, because no way in hell was I going to be dumped in a fucking trash can and forgotten about. That was never going to happen, I fucking decided that, that night.

If I can survive that, I can survive a couple of douchebag voices telling me that I am worthless. And you can too, but you have to actually decide that no matter what comes at you, you are not going to commit suicide.

You have to decide that no matter what you go through you are not going to let the bastards win, and it’s going to take a fucking commitment every day of your life, but I can promise you it’s worth it.

For me it was my Black Cougar tattoo with the words “Killed by Death”, done by Bill Gaspari in Vancouver British Columbia shortly after my twenty-fourth birthday.

It was a gift to myself, a promise that no matter what happens I was going to wait for Death to take my life, I wasn’t going to let any human any person including myself take what God had given me which is this existence.

For whatever reason I have always believed in God, that doesn’t mean I’ve always liked or even trusted God, but I have always had faith that God existed, for me that was enough of a start to believe there was a greater plan that I didn’t yet understand.

The more that I spend my time writing and doing all this self work I realize that it’s not so I can help others, no there are plenty of healers out there, but so that I could create a record of a person who had been through everything and survived it all to show herself that she could.

I am also, for the record, a fucking angry person. As a kid the smallest thing would piss me off and I would inevitably take it out on my younger brother in a variety of cruelly creative ways.

Growing up without him has been the hardest part of this journey, but knowing that I am trying to become the kind of person he’d be proud of is one of the many reasons I am living the way I am living right now.

A quiet existence with my cat and my family that I see as little as possible so I can focus on healing and being a better person. I have this time so I might as well use it productively which is where my writing comes from.

Growing up all I ever wanted to do was be a writer, and I had to go through hell to get to this place where I get to spend my time living my dream but for the time being this is the fucking dream.

“Okay great you’re a fucking happy angry bitch but how’d you get to the place of not wanting to kill yourself every fucking day?”

I fucking told you, I committed to the idea that I may not have all the answers, but suicide was never going to be an option for me. ~~I don’t know why in particular~~ that’s a lie. I do know why and it straight up because of God and God’s angels that I am where I am today.

It’s because I decided every day to meditate, to find inner peace by looking inside myself, by imagining that I could talk to my inner most child and see what she wants me to do, by learning from the most innocent of myself.

I take strength from knowing I am still connected to my ancestors, the Creole Slaves the Irish English and Scottish Jamaican soldiers who fought against tyranny for a better world.

I take strength from God and most importantly from the readers who connect with me and share their stories. All of these things let me know that I am on the right track, small reminders from God that there is always a plan, and yes I have to say it…the plan is coming together even if I don’t understand it still.