This Is Me, Well, The Story Of

This challenge is a true challenge in every sense of the word.

chal·lenge, noun

a call to take part in a contest or competition, especially a duel.

an objection or query as to the truth of something, often with an implicit demand for proof.

This challenge demands for me to face who I am, when I have been successfully hiding from her for years.

Sure, you've seen parts of her...the acceptable sides, the presentable her, here, in my poems. Some views are light and inspirational, even humorous and others are dark and greedy, sucking the life out of me, as they make their marks on paper.

That is the me that has kept me rearranging and covering up the "real. Masking the ugly," that would certainly destroy small towns and villages. Like Godzilla, pushing his way onto shore, burning everything and everyone in its wake, to avoid being seen as I am.

So, with all the salt and ancient spells of Sam and Dean Winchester, I keep her chained, locked away for all of our protection, in the deepest, darkest parts of the basement. Only allowing her to appear for rare occasions, such as this.

Because, if I am honest, only together is it possible share the truth. The whole truth.

The shady shift of change I have finally uncovered, and recently began to admit to myself; laying the findings wide open and bare, spread out in all of it's unsightly glory.

That truth? I am undeniably broken.

I am however, not a victim. I am simply healing. Trying, failing and getting back up again.

I am daily finding my way through the words that seep uncontrollably from a ravaged heart. Gathering remnants from a soul that has learned to cover the wounds with flowers to avoid the glances of pity and ridicule. That other part of me that completes this mess of a person, struggling to remain faithful to the belief that people are innately good, and at odds with the opposite, mean me no harm.

Here is part of an email I sent to my ex, trying to find peace with the mess we have left behind us.

Breakdown: I mask my brokenness with smiles and sarcasm, never really letting anyone in. I don’t know if I ever really have. Example: two broken marriages and daughters who have no desire to be in serious relationships.

I believe my broken is like yours, childhood trauma that I have never faced, denied it even, left unhealed, to the point of rupture. Finding that when in a situation of "dealing"…I collapsed, unable to provide what you needed, I can’t even provide what I need, emotionally.

This is the me that scribbles words and lyrics randomly while driving, because, in a moment, any unknown, unrehearsed thought or melody can pop up a thought or memory that delivers a blow that hits you like a Mac truck. The me that pours out secrets like a spy behind enemy lines, hoping for resolve and peace, still, never finding it.

So, when you ask me to reclaim the personal, the raw, the real, and encourage me to write a story about a moment that reminds me why I'm alive, or maybe, sometimes wanting to be dead. Something held and felt deep in my chest, my bones, my skin, or that time I laughed until I cried, or cried until I cracked. That spark. That shift. That truth.....is comparable to asking for the secret to world peace....we may find that it doesn't exist at all, at least not in a nice and neat, presentable package we had envisioned.

No, it consists of the brutal tearing off flesh, removing mask after mask, hoping I will still recognize the woman, girl, warrior and hider in the sheets, that might show herself, and will I be able to face her? Will she still talk to me, are we still connected?

My shift, like many, has been a lifelong journey of loss, lovingly mingled with joy, conveniently dropped over the concrete barriers of life's bridge and demolished by a cement mixer on its way to offer structural support to my madness.

Yeah, this is a story that even AI wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole. It might however, suggest hitting the delete button and starting over, because the main character is too flawed and completely unbelievable. But believe me, we are out here. Writing away the ridiculous, with snarky, smirky quips, where the only intention is to make others laugh, and survive one more day.

How can I prove I wrote this? Who else would claim it, lol.

Thank you for joining me in this journey of discovery. Hopefully I have not given too much away, I would sure hate for you to miss what might be coming next.

Much love and respect...kelli (and her other side)

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Sorry, there are 3 links to complete the story, it's not that long, I am just that inept...lol

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