Freewrite: “Back to Basics - a Declaration” (2021)

TW: Trauma; Truth.

I may tangent a bit, hope you don't mind; it's simultaneously simple yet complex. Anyway, I've been sexually assaulted before but this last occurrence two years ago (2019) by Raze* really fucked me up. I think because it physically hurt. I had tried various times and ways to forget over the course of 2021 but not many routes came in the form of a pen. I am now generally in a place where I don't want to keep reiterating my trauma but also in a season of willingness to express at will if you will. Like, I could detail how it stung to see the sun rays vying to shine through nearly-shut blinds - but the memory simmers my heart and causes my brain to buzz. I am in such a self-care mode that nothing else matters almost to the point of suicidality - but not quite. No, no, not that, but instead something"solitudinous". Ah, language! I have receipts for days and asses that could be flambéd in the fiery torches of persecution - yet this (for now) feels enough. To intentionally make people squirm, wonder what's up my sleeve, a card of mine, a tell on theirs? *insert evil cackle* I know so much and care with a heart that never brittles - but we do break. It's just, I've been making bloody mosaics most of my life. I like to stare into the reflection and figure out what truth lives there. Life holds enough lies - why should I harbor any? Frankly, I'd be dead were it not for God, and Godless were it not for ghosts, and hell, ghostless if it were not for [inner] sight. But maybe I ramble! Simply, people have missed me but I have too. I lost a lot from that aforementioned incident and as is the "game of life", I gained a lot more sense. Funny how that works. Must it be the burn that teaches child fire? Must learning always necessitate a bruise first? Wisdom says, "That's up to you." Selah. “Accountability” is a pussy-wettening word, there I said it. Owning your stuff is sexy! Like if *blows a whistle* and you get harassed out of a job if your *blows another whistle* but there's digital evidence of what was said or done. When people own their shit, there's no need to drop dirt - because you would've already been bold enough to "8-Mile" your own truth, no matter how shitty/"abusery"/incompetent. Anyway, I find my loss of me...a journey! Yes, it's brought me "here". It helped me flee to Mexico and party with peacocks. It gave me NYC ecstasy then an immediate turkey-revelation after DMX passed. It gave me Georgian sunrises and Bronx lightning-storm photography. I fought self-harm relapse more rounds than I would have granted myself years past. I've thrown out the pot then grew a license to pot, LOL. I hated me, then hated everyone, and now just have God. I cannot simplify that note enough. I learned religion ain't *blows whistle* but much holds merit, even what we don't comprehend. Debate teams should be mandated worldwide. Perhaps just my experience, I found it to be a sturdy way of learning how to "argue" cohesively, building listening skills, empathy, and overall confidence in one's self and stance. It's not enough to believe in You - you have to understand your faults and where your opponent holds validity too, even though you strongly advocate for (or are negating) your side. It's such beautiful art that brought me an ironic level of peace. It taught me how to truly hear people. The issue I encountered was losing my stance to the sympathy of an understood middle-ground. I was soon lost in what someone I recently read coined this confusion as "the empathy spiral". Ah, the power of a label; it summed it in a way I couldn't properly discern before. It describes that moment when I'm stuck in seeing how everyone's right to a degree. How many degrees? How long do I stick to my 1-degree of rightness found within a person when they're displaying 99 boiling degrees of demonism? I used to be praised for conviction but I dead forgot what that is or resembles. I questioned myself to a point of belittling my own self-trust (and respect). Yet wisely I’ve been to myself because I’ve learned well enough to contain my destruction - note: “contain” not “suppress”. It has worked. I’ve hugged myself and said more genuine compliments than every friend who has spoken any only to recant them through vanishing and neglect. I’ve held myself in fits of panic with more consoling than any ER gurney straps could have ever managed. Black, unheard girl with dark thoughts misunderstood as “maturity”. I told my mom the other day (today’s Saturday) that often I fantasize about my own death just to keep from doing it. Truly such a milestone, non-sardonically! That too in itself is also an achievement. Being kind to myself has probably been the greatest victory. Oh, it’s still imperfect as FUCK, BUT I’m doing more gentility than grave-digging. I gotta call, “Progress!” when I see it. :) That said:

I’m still losing my shit!!!

But that’s why I am writing, a coping skill I haven’t done with this much focused and [un]guided attention since...Heaven knows. The situation is I feel on the brink daily but I’m getting creative (arguably desperate LOL) with how I step back inside. When the good coping works, like taking a walk for example, it’s everything right in my world. When it doesn't? I stay wherever I call home, screaming into the shadows alone. The difference between Then and Now is that I’m less caring of whether people hear me. A’se. My Sagi “I don’t give a.f.,” energy has finally emerged. It wasn’t in one fell swoop, however, I see it more palpably unwavering. Thank the Lordt. I’m talking about everything: the abuse, the rapes, the career saboteurs, the escapes; my healing, my relearning, my self-love education, and more - all’it. In different ways, just like I’m used to but the seed had to be replanted. It all blooms from the root of this ink. They tried to shut me up and for a while, they had, but haHA, baby! Paper is a microphone that turns whispers into war cries - and since I’m still here, I choose the winners’ side. The battle is won when one goes back to basics.

*names changed, for now.

*blows whistle* = censored, for now.