Our Fate is our blood

 

I am really struggling to be in my house. After I was attacked last Oct, I fled to New Mexico with my portable household goods. I returned in Feb & found someone had broken in, stolen my woodstove, leaving a gaping leaking hole in my roof. I worked as fast as I could to escape the most beautiful place I had ever lived. It's visceral to be in here. Being out over the road is so dangerous & lonely. There's no way to express the feeling of safe return. It allowed me to knuckle down, keep working, little by little, towards my goal. Save enough money to buy land under my house. It seems impossible. Everybody else has already won the Monopoly game. I tried to mentally & intellectually process the poverty of my situation, & take some steps to try & move forward given what is instead of just what I want & hope. But there is a deep pit in my stomach. My heartbreak and hopelessness is all I have to digest here, bathed in the humid mosquito soup. There is a truth I've only been able to put into words these last few years. I do not have the luxury of depression. There's no one to take care of me in that state. I've lived like this for so long, always on the run from pain, one betrayal after another. Why are some born in the world where the 1st people we meet betray us? Why is it that no matter what do, no matter what we try to build for ourselves, it will never be enough. Some are the beneficiaries of generational wealth, sometimes mixed with trauma. Some only get trauma, & it defines our lives. Our fate is our blood. Times like this, when I'm trying to take stock of what is, the challenges & the abundance and love, seems like when I'm able to withstand what feels like crushing depression, even though it's too dangerous to allow. Before I go back to New Mexico, for whatever comes next, I'm trying to speech to text the 3rd part of the short story I've been writing since the beginning of the year into a digital document I can edit as the final draft. So, here I am working on it.

Over there in the upper corner of the picture you can see my baseball bat. It has a sock on it that says this girl's got a lot to say... Pro tip... If you're going to use a baseball bat to defend yourself , put a sock on it so if your Attacker grabs the bat you can pull it out of their hands and they'll just be left with the sock.

I am outside, surrounded by darkness, being eaten alive, looking in at the light of hopes and dreams as if they don't belong to me. I don'tbelong in there. I feel trapped in the dark ness yearning.For the coziness of safety of home. Even though I built it for myself with my own two hands and rescued it from attackers and robbers, rescued myself from the abuse of my family and many people who have molested me along the way. No matter what I do I'm trying outside in the darkness.