Raw.

I’m not sure how the habit formed, I think to myself; sipping the warm liquid. Coffee had never appealed to me before except for in smell, until about a month ago. Now I can’t imagine going a day without starting my morning with it. The last few months could be best characterized for me as…contemplative. Perhaps it’s my nearing birthday, which will make me the ripe young age of 30. I’ve been telling people that I feel old, but I really don’t think that’s it at all. I think it’s my longing to have done more than I have in the 30 years I will have lived, come the next two weeks. I’ve lived a lot of lives. My childhood plainly put, consisted of things that habitually make me pause and struggle to find the words to accurately define it. I can’t remember a lot, and yet I can remember some things from ages so young people immediately sputter their disbelief. Like the time when I was merely two years of age, and my biological father showed up to the “mother’s home” my mother and I lived in, to take me to Toy R Us. I remember the pure terror I felt about the strange man, and how I was determined to never leave the safety of that tattered old brown recliner I hid myself behind, as my biological father and mother begged me to come out from it. Fighting back tears and swallowing the lump in my throat; recollecting it this many years later – it still traumatizes me. There’s only bits and pieces I can remember from my childhood like; living in only poverty stricken homes, my parents taking us to ask and beg for food from places like salvation army, the severe mental abuse from my step-father, my mothers deep love and care – but ever absent protection, caring for my siblings at a very young age – especially during the time my mother suffered from post-partum and was committed for a short time, and having no friends my entire childhood as no parent wanted their child to befriend the poorly dressed however well-mannered child. It’s not all bad, I can remember good things too. My siblings and I were always close, though there was the extreme age gap of 6 years+. My mother was very loving, and though we had very little we were always well-taken care of. She taught us of Christ, to love, and to always strive in being good and kind. Though my relationship with my step-father was stressed, he did provide for me as his own child. In that sense, I’ll always be grateful. I saw a therapist about a year or so ago, I was going through a patch where I was seeking clarity, and I’ve always believed that only God and one’s self can provide it most clearly (even if through one’s self, it must be brought to light through help of one profession-ed to do so). I’d just discovered yet another infidelity, and with the times before in past relationships, it was tearing me apart at my core – but that’s for another time when writing about that pain won’t overwhelm me in darkness. Getting back on track – my therapist told me that our childhoods can define us, especially if they leave lasting marks like PTSD. I feel selfish each time I think to myself as having it, because growing up in a military home led me to always me feel like the horrors our soldiers faced, was solely and inherently something for them to claim. So, I have PTSD and anxiety. Throw in some fear of giving myself entirely to a man for reverence of hurt, and some other doctoral psychiatrist mumbo jumbo I can’t entirely recall at this time – and you’ve got my scars. I used to think I was broken. Damaged. Unfit, and unworthy. That as my childhood created a path for who I would become as an adult, that it’d be all I’d deserve. A life mirroring exactly that to which I’d had. However, thankful to God for not cursing me with such impending doom, he gave me gifts that aided me to be determined in living a life greater than society would have ignorantly perceived and carved out for me. Ha, mind you, it’d take me many years before I’d come close to getting my shit together. With only a belief in God, greater intellect I’d say is worth something, and a spirit destined/desiring to be good and to love – I still lacked a lot of knowledge and guidance to which I’d be forced to learn on my own. Everything from first love, finances, advice of life outside of your parent’s home…I never had any of that. For me it was a “get dirty” and learn on your own world. I lived in every city you can imagine when I moved out at 17, all in Utah of course. Prior to, I’d lived in more states than most have likely visited. I’ve worked more jobs then I can recount to this day. I went through friends like toilet paper. In a very small sense of the word, I explored life in a small area, found love and found greater hurt, all helping lead me to learn what I didn’t want in certain aspects of life. I’m trying to keep this about me, so each area will be an overview, with much left out… I think my greatest weakness, was my nauseating and woeful desire for acceptance. Tormented for my awkwardness as a child (I was bullied quite badly), I sought attention on a flagrant scale. With no guidance to the fool I was making of myself, factored by the crowd of surrounded myself with. I see now, in my ripe old age (HA), what I was really seeking. I wanted admiration and acceptance for who I was; my likes and interests, my humor, my mistakes, my ambitions…All things that I miserably failed to obtain by ignorant motives. Even in my younger years, I knew better. Perhaps that’s why those “years” for me were not only more shortly lived than that of my peers, but also why I find so much shame in my actions through them. The reason behind why I keep them hidden, and secret. In digital world, there’s endless exposure to so many sayings that “a past defines who you are”, and in no regard, would I ever want to say that those years in any way define who I am today. I’ll skip the boring and meaningless details of my first marriage, but what I gained from it is really what changed my whole world. My beautiful daughter Adilyn. I was scared, aghast at minimum - to become a mother. Assumingly similar, to that of any woman or girl in the identical circumstance. I hadn’t lived the life I’d dreamed, and I was frightened I couldn’t give her everything she’d need. More terrifyingly so, not only because of the circumstances before her, of soon to be divorced parents, but what my parents lacked to provide me with. However, those fears motivated the absolute hell out of me, to make sure I’d always strive to do the absolute best I could. I remember the first time I saw her, any fear or feeling of life-to-be-lived loss faded away instantly. She was this living, breathing, beautiful thing that I knew God had given me. She was so perfect, and I knew that God had felt I deserved her, and that he trusted me to be the mother she needed. To this day, the chaos and pain that was my first marriage, I would do-over in a heartbeat, just for the chance to be her mother. She is a big part of who I am, which is why her loving mention is still very much about me. There’s something about mother-hood that gives a woman clarity (should she so choose to see it). It’s a full-hurdle launch into being a “grown-up”, and leads you to watch and make each decision in both your lives as thoughtfully as you can. In every day as I strive to teach her all the things I think are true and right, she unknowingly teaches me so much about myself. The most important? She taught me what pure, unconditional, illimitable love is. A feeling I’d sought for in my life up until that very moment she came into my life. I know I’m not perfect, Lord knows I’ve got my darknesses and weaknesses. For what she’ll see in me as her mother, I’ll only show her the best I can, as to role-model what a strong woman is – even in moments when I’m weak. I tell myself that if I know my demons and my weaknesses, then those few times I waver and fall victim to them – it won’t defame my character or goodness. I know as humans we’ll err, we’ll make mistakes, be selfish, lie, and likewise. Yet, I continue to hold myself to the aforementioned standard where I’m not allowed to fail. I wonder sometimes if a part of that is rooted from my hope that if I don’t allow myself to fail, then those who can cause me sadness or hurt by their own failure or succumbing to weakness, won’t do so. Therefore, I’m somehow creating a known future, when I don’t express heartache. A largely defining characteristic weakness of mine especially in my younger years, was my incessant need to be what I thought everyone else wanted me to be. Perhaps out of naïve wonderment that by liking the same things of those around me, or acting in persona alike – that it would fill that void inside of me. It was consuming of me entirely in my latter teens and early twenties, only nearly in entirety diminishing just recently. I think what sparked the end of that particular weakness, or perhaps earned me a keener awareness of it – was realizing that if I were to be asked “what I enjoy”, or “how I’d characterize myself”, my response would be quite flat and boring. To be forthright, I can’t imagine that just 6 months ago, I would have even been able to give a shit of a response; maybe 3 words. That mere thought left me mind-numb for weeks. I opened the notepad in my iPhone, and started a rough list of things I enjoyed doing, things I didn’t enjoy, things I wished I could do, and alike. The struggle was real. The list was pathetic and bare-boned, until months later when it had some substance of considerable worth. That desire of self-discovery unlocked even more desires, and parts of my subconscious than ever before. I became to realize that in my current state of being, very little that I do, say, or act, alludes to who I am. Without knowing how to put my thoughts and findings into words or actions, I’ve withdrawn into myself, and undesirably perhaps a little depressed (not manically, merely superficially). I’m not entirely perfected at hiding my mental state from my facial expressions, but I like to think I’ve managed fairly well. I feel like I’m stuck between two worlds, for a lack of better words. The life I have, and while not necessarily another life entirely – one I’m not living and is quite different than that of which I live. I’ve ransacked my mind, attempting to determine a solution that will allow me to begin integrating those things that I desire, or would otherwise find fulfilling. I live within bounds, some that cause undetermined restriction, and others that are the most important in my life. I’ve always found a connection to the world around me, not just to humans, but nature itself. My keen awareness and born ability of empathy, help me connect to things I’ve found most others cannot. Corny and fantastical in nature to the perception of the populous nearly in entirety I’m sure, but nonetheless one thing I’ve become in truth of. I trust this is a direct correlation to how I feel love. It’s not just a closeness in mental state as one who understands me for who I am, but is nurturing in the areas I need as a woman; loving and sensual touch, strong protective embrace, promising words. Without these things, I’ve learned of myself, that I become rigid and closed off. For a time longer than most (I like to think or otherwise tell myself), I will put forth even more actions resembling in nature, hoping to jump start a realization to they who is “pledged” to provide what I need to feel complete in terms of companionship. I have a newfound ever-existing eagerness to explore. To travel and learn of other cultures, peoples, and pasts. Having always been fascinated by the unknown and different, I find myself with a growing thirst of nomadic aspirations. I feel as if a void will always exist, until I reach a point in my life, where I’ve satisfied my knowledge outside of the easily reachable world of my own. I knowingly will never be able to shake that there’s something, or many things out there, I’m meant to experience and discover. My coffee’s now cold, and my deliciously new discovered yogurt warm. I’m hitting a writer’s block, and time in which to write unhindered and ingeniously is nearing its’ end. These types of moments, or better yet opportunity in my life are few and far between, and frequently resulted in a feeling of selfishness and overwhelming guilt. Agreeably, a reason why I’ve been reluctant this long in writing this. I hope to find an answer or path, that will allow me to obtain and experience the things I hunger for and do not have; passion, exploration, travel, knowledge, education, etc…