Daily Prompt-23 Letters

Sally-nightmare-before-christmas-226670_682_439

 

Renee Michelle Homan Heath

I say my name out loud. What does it mean. Is it me? Does it encompass who I am? No.

I am a Sparkly Girl.

I am a virgin.

I am a whore.

A mother.

I am a Sally.

I’m more Sally than my own name. What is it about her that I identify with? Her undying love for a king? The fact that she’s in pieces? What the hell is it about her?

I am more than my name. Only 23 letters, but their meaning is infinite.

Don’t define me, or try to contain me in those 23 letter. It’s better to let me run free. Try to catch up with me, if you can.

I’m a bombshell.

Bawdy.

Fun.

Broken.

Happy.

Then all at once, morose.

A force of nature.

Not to be contained.

Let me go.

Let me fly.

But hold my heart in your hand.

For if you do, then I will love you, too.

My name means selfish.

My name means nothing.

My name is not me.

I am a force of nature and the 23 letters that comprise my name, do not define me.

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As Writers, We Lay Our Hearts Open

Trail of Glitter

Facebook status update: Any day is a good day when you leave your therapist’s office and don’t want to cut yourself.

Yes, that was my status update today. One of them, anyway. I’m a teeny bit of a Facebook Whore. It’s where my words started flowing, so stuff it if you don’t like it.

If you’ve spent any time at all reading my blog, you know that I’m an open book. I lay my heart open quite easily. Without trepidation. It mortifies my mother and other family members. That’s okay though. I say the things that many are thinking. Beware of the fearless woman with a potty mouth.

After I posted, a dear friend and fellow writer sent me a private message. Seems she was concerned about my comment and wanted to check in on me. I assured her that all was well. I’m happy, today. I can’t promise that I will be tomorrow. It’s kind of a crap shoot with me. If you think I like being this moody, I don’t. It’s who I am though.

Back to the correspondence between my friend and me:

Oh honey, it was supposed to be funny. I promise, I’m okay. I have bouts of depression and euphoria. Borderline personality disorder, anxiety and panic disorder, ADHD and a host of other issues. I’m also a sexual abuse survivor.

Today is a good day though. Life is good and there is a smile on my face. I would not trade what I’ve been through, but I don’t wish it on others.

I’m a funny woman, with a dark side. I need incredible amounts of validation too. I couldn’t write well if I didn’t have my darkness. Everyone sees a happy and sunny woman when they look at me. Little do they know there’s so much more to me than what’s on the surface……

Thank you for your message my friend. Thank you for your friendship. I want you to know if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here for you too.

Always, Renee
The not always sparkly girl

As writers, we lay our hearts open. As our readers, you follow us to some places we wouldn’t even let a lover go. I’ve no idea why, but I think it’s what God wants me to do. Break myself open, and bleed all over the place. I figure somebody has to do it, it might as well be me.

Sparkle on my sweet friends. Sparkle on.

I’m STILL Looking for that Other Damn Street!!!!

Photo courtesy of Merrith Kujawa (Figured it was appropriate, because I’m usually so sparkly. Not feelin’ it lately though. So I leave you with this today.  Dealing with sadness, jealousy, PTSD, and a host of other issues. And yes, after 44 years I keep falling in that damn hole. I’m learning how to crawl out of it though. By God’s good grace, I am.)

Autobiography in Five Short Chapters

 Chapter 1

I walk down the street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I fall in.

I am lost . . . I am helpless.

It isn’t my fault.

It takes forever to find a way out

Chapter 2

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I pretend I don’t see it.

I fall in again.

I can’t believe I am in the same place.

But it isn’t my fault.

It still takes a long time to get out.

Chapter 3

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I see it is there.

I still fall in … it’s a habit.

My eyes are open.

I know where I am.

It is my fault.

I get out immediately.

Chapter 4

I walk down the same street.

There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.

I walk around it.

Chapter 5

I walk down another street.

~ Portia Nelson ~

(There’s a Hole in My Sidewalk)