Fashion Updates

   

Fear of the known, and blind ignorance of hope.

Family relationships mirror the love you may search for in adulthood.
When I was at my most difficult points at my life,
I always had a person help me through them.
But doesn’t it feel good to go back to the good ol’ days.

Abuse and mistreatment almost always seem a far off possibility.

You say to yourself,

It will never happen to me.
Change is on the way.
No one can hurt me.
I learned the last time.

The truth is if you had learned you would have never returned.

You would have just said to yourself

They are bad news.
What was I thinking?
I spent so many hours wasting my time.
I’m glad they are gone. Instead… You.

You never learn do you? You must love punishment. Not only do you love to punish yourself, but you don’t mind punishing your friends that help you out in each situation.

You can lie and say. That they love you. That they changed for you. That they will change and never go back to the old ways. Why do they need to learn how to change? How much change does a person have to undergo to undo the abuse you experienced at their hands?

The memories will haunt you if you don’t get out.
The only thing I want you to do is not feel shamed.
You should feel outraged.

You can let them strike you again.
You can let them verbally, and mentally assault you.
Let them lie and manipulate you.

It doesn’t really matter because they will “change” for you. Right after they have devoured your heart and grind up your life into sand in their palm.

 

Good Night and Good luck

 

Making Bold Fashion Choices.

I always enjoy wearing pant suits.
I saw this one and had to have it.
Looks pretty good if I do say so myself.
I love the iridescent blue. 🙂

A few years ago, a beautiful eyeball necklace
came across my path.
As necklaces go, I usually don’t
want to wear jewelry around
all the time. This hand me down
bag is the perfect place to sew it
. Don’t be surprised if you see me looking at you.

Successful people rarely ask
for permission to share their gifts.
They are not waiting for someone
to allow them to share their talents.

As I continue as an artist I have
begun to follow their lead
and live and share my talents.
– Erica Beatrix Brooks

If she is asking for forgiveness, tell her I have none left.
If she is asking for forgiveness, tell her I have none left.
If she is asking for retribution,tell her I am overflowing.

-ebb

Opening Up

Tonight, I will tell the story of the transformation of my inner chid. In 2016, I had a mental breakthrough and break down. Watching others succeed in finding  jobs and ability to be social through mood swings. My mental health was an extremely scary subject for me to : admit, deal with, and come to any new realizations about.

Until 2015, I thought I could fix the problem. Whatever the problems that my family had could be solved by a hug, smile, or random outburst. When I went to college, 2008, I had already began disassociating. It could be explained as you body goes on auto pilot. Everything feels just out of reach. Friendships are hard to even maintain if you feel like jumping out of your skin.

High school did a ringer on me, as most experiences in High School tend to be. The expectations were so high, that I just kept my head low to complete the tasks. No matter how great my grades are, I always seemed to disappoint in some other way. If I didn’t clean up my room, my father would yell at me on the way to school,

Why can’t you keep your room clean. DO YOU WANT TO BE LAZY LIKE YOUR UNCLE?

You’re a slob.

Your grandfather treats your mom like shit.

You’re mom is jealous because you are better looking.

Red finger nail polish is for whores.

DON’T YOU EVER WALK AWAY FROM ME.

You’re gaining a little weight aren’t you.

YOU are not wearing any color than white to your wedding.

The fear of being lazy came from them telling me I was naturally lazy. No matter how high my grades were, how much I spoke up because I was “mumbling”. I was always fucking mumbling in their opinion. I was always not looking good enough or living up to my potential. Always. Always.

Never have I felt like I really mattered after being 12-13 years old. It’s a malicious pattern. For women in my family, when you reach the age of 13, you are no longer able to be manipulated. I could never understand why my mom fought with my grandfather, over and over again. That was until I got older, then all was revealed.

I spoke recently with my grandparents. I could no longer lie about the flashbacks, nightmares, lack of sleep, lack of self esteem or just lack of the energy or zest to live. For the first time, they listened, but it was far too late. The air of fear and denial wafted under my nose. I was just glad they were listening.

My grandfather interjects,

Just like those lies your mother told about me. I never hit them. I would never do something like that.

My eyes shoot towards my grandmother with a glazed look on her face. Something felt like a lie.  I think of the phrase Michael Avenatti, the lawyer for Story Daniels, says”

IT’S NOT THE LIE, IT’S THE COVER UP.

IT’S NOT THE LIE, IT’S THE COVER UP.

IT’S NOT THE LIE, IT’S THE COVER UP.

IT’S NOT THE LIE, IT’S THE COVER UP.

IT’S NOT THE LIE, IT’S THE COVER UP.

IT’S NOT THE LIE, IT’S THE COVER UP.

My grandfather always seemed to be the good guy in every story. The kids at his job love him, his father was jealous of him being the first to buy a house, my mother turned out horribly, my uncle was lazy, my grandmother was referred to as ” WOMAN”.

It all bubbled up in a silent rage.

The last time I saw him, I asked for money. It was a horrible mistake.  The guilt I left with was unbearable. If I ask about the mortgage on my grandparents own, then they are perfectly okay, if I need any assistance, the debt MUST be repaid.

These people that I call family, that I begged to be a family with. I tried to stop the gossiping, the anger, the fear, but I can not fight evils alone. My family calls me by my middle name, That I don’t like to utter or think about.

Now I will take you back to 2016, I went through my 3rd night of insomnia. As my partner slept, I began to fear death and saw a portal. I am not sure, but it felt like the truth, the gate of life and death, the eyes of the devil, the light of angels dressed in red clothing. My mother had brought me to the brink of insanity. My thoughts would not slow down. My anger and fear came to a boil.

That night I laid my inner child to rest. At the age of 9 my life turned to into a nightmare dreamscape. I looked at the reflection of my younger self, she seemed tired, and sad. Hurt and curled into a ball. My memories flash back to my fathers words, back to my mother violence and yelling my middle name. The girl they called ugly, who was never enough. Never spoke loud enough, never had the right hair, or right attitude. That was left to be alone for days.

I let that little girl go. She is dead. I woke up the next day, and Beatrix was birthed.

Nothing is unbearable if you keep the faith.

Good Night, Good Luck.