Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on specific.
The words were so specific.
So clear, concise. They were waiting to be launched and I was unaware they would hit, land, and leave wreckage.
The attack was so crystal clear, specific, and targeted.
I just was unaware that it was coming.
Once it did land, the explosion was so loud, so brutal, that I stumbled back.
Unable to speak as tears fell from my eyes.
You broke something that day and it's been broken ever since.
I've been broken ever since.
And it's not up to you to fix any of it.
I have to be specific and intentional about getting back to some version of me.
Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on capacity.
When I finally hit my "full" line, I took a little bit of action.
I gathered my thoughts and I took them elsewhere.
I went away.
I got small.
I got fragile.
I cried a whole hell of a lot and I did try and fill holes that I felt all over my body.
Holes and scars left by damage and rubble.
I hit my limit, I hit all I could do and I reached my full capacity.
Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on make.
Love.
Things up.
Up.
Out.
Due.
Way.
Mistakes.
Promises.
Dinner.
Lists.
Time.
Art.
Up stories.
Up things.
Reasons.
Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on rewind.
If I hit rewind and went back, all of the way back, what would I change?
Would I have spent those last three years working differently?
Would I have tried harder with you?
Would I have said something different?
Would I have sat down with you and looked you in the eye?
Would I have stood up for myself, told you I would not be talked to that way...that you have no right to say these things to me?
Would I have said stop calling me that, stop talking about my body that way?
Would I have used my actual words, would I have been stronger?
Would I have been softer? Shown more compassion?
Would it have mattered or would we still be here, exactly where we are?
With all of this distance between us.
With all of this anger, this stain on our memory.
If I could rewind time and if I could throw my arms around you, would I do it differently?
Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on tolerate.
Did I take it all because you are supposed to love your family and they, in turn, should love you?
Is that why we keep going back and back and back again to help, to offer support, love, comfort, even though we hardly received any?
Is that why we tolerated it all?
Did we think that it would get better?
Is that why we still tolerate it today? Because family stands by each other.
Because family has to.
Because you don't know better and I do so is that why I keep tolerating it?
Because I keep telling myself that I'm the grownup and I can keep it together.
Did I tolerate the attack because I was shocked?
Or because I didn't have the tools to say enough - not your place to say and take a step back.
Did I not tolerate your shit because you went after my kid? Is that the stand I needed to take?
Would the pain I'm feeling and the loneliness make me take it all back, tell you we can work it out?
How do we decide?
How do we pick and choose?
How do we set limits/standards/draw lines in the stand.
How do we protect ourselves and love so all in all at the same time?
Every Friday we unite for five minutes. Only five minutes, that's all we get, that's all we have. And then, right where we are, no edits or second thoughts, we publish those words. This week, we write on scene.
Let me set the scene.
We were in our 20s.
We were living in a city, not the city, not the one my heart longs for, but city living just the same.
We were young.
We were starting out.
Nothing was hard.
We were easy.
Life was easy.
Nothing had heartache.
We were full of joy, joyful in every single way.
Life was full of joy, joyful in every single way.
We had Mia, the one who raised us.
The one who made sure we came and stayed together.
We were carefree.
You were so carefree.
I, I was so carefree.
We were so happy, so drunk in love.
You were so happy, so drunk in love.
I was so happy, so drunk in love.
Let me set the scene.
We had no regrets.
We had no resentment.
We had no fog.
It was the start of forever, it's what I remember so fondly, but my love...
we have built quite a happily every after.
