My thoughts churn as reality seeps in. Has my life been a lie, am I not who I am? I seek and search and search some more, but it’s nowhere to be found, not anywhere. What is this mystery in my life that I seek? It’s my identity, I don’t have one, I think.

I search for pieces and will occasionally find a tiny bit of me, but never enough for identity. The darkness and evils from my younger life, have robbed me from having peace, being a mother, a wife. Emptiness and despair fill my days, a gaping hole that leaves me seeking harm on some days. Try to imagine knowing nothing of yourself, not knowing what you like, what you hate, what you can do to escape.

I love you today, I hate you tomorrow, then pushing you away creates all my sorrow. Those are the ways my thought patterns work, due to not having a solid base or self-worth. A part of my mind says, “Reach for the stars,” while my emotions make clear all of their scars. I can’t make a commitment, I won’t see it through. Chances are great, my emotions I’ll have to subdue.

Fucked up? Yes. Indeed, I am, I’m a mess, a mental case of high level and empty as hell. Does this mean I’m dangerous to others or self? I can’t hurt anyone, except for myself. So the thoughts continue to churn and churn, as my emotional state flares and starts to burn. I must be under water, I must be in the sea, I have no breath, absolutely no air in me. This is the panic that always sets in when my minds spins too fast and the fears begin.

I sit up straight, gasping for breath, feeling like a fish that’s been brought up from the depths. I suffer with an illness that no one can see, they think I should be fine and act normally. I barely function, I’m surprised I can live, this much pain should take my spirit out of its shell, it hurts so much inside, even the physical pain is more than I could tell.

I’m not the woman who I used to be, I used to know me, I thought I had an identity. That girl was so fun, so happy, so flirty, she shined like a beacon, and hardly ever worried. But reality reared its head and truth became known, that person just vanished, now I’m empty and alone.

I know my husband resents me, he misses the old me, but was she imagination, all in my mind? Tell me. I long for the days I could laugh without a care, now when I laugh I hear the bitterness in there. Pieces of me, oh where can you be? I need you here, come back to complete me. I won’t stop seeking, I’ll crawl if I must, this identity of mine, I’ll find it…trust.o t


Bitterness & Wilting


From the darkness she came, awakened by a warmth, a love like the sun, taking the tiny seed of hope from within her, coaxing it to life. The seed began to sprout as he continued to shine, to bring her comfort and security as soft as a rain shower, slowly falling down.

It took no time at all for her to feel safe in the security of his rain and shine, so she blossomed, a bloom unlike any she had put off in her lifetime. She was bright, beaming and lush for all to see, and ready to be shared with the sun times three. His three mini-suns also shone pure and true, now her life was complete, she was blessed now after her time in the darkness.

As is wont to happen with beautiful blooms, sickness set in, diseases one after the other ravaged her. Through the loss of his beautiful bloom to a wilted, lesser bloom, the sun became bitter, his light began to fade.

As his bitterness grew and her sickness increased, his light darkened and her bloom wilted more. He turned on her, his bitterness so great that he could only blame her. With the blame she faded, becoming so small that, in truth, she was almost nothing at all.

The sun didn’t want such a ruined bloom, so he tried to send her away but her roots were just hibernating, she was not so quick to give up on the return of her sun. The worst kind of bitterness came upon him, his became a darkness more fierce than all she had live through before.

His words became weapons, darts formed to maim, to ruin, destroy, and work they did, for her roots all but died. Then two hours later he took her for a ride, a ride to a place where it all would end, along with her life for no longer would she be a bloom or a wife.

Later, left alone in the dark she mourned and she cried, her world had ended and no longer would she bloom, no never, not at all. All day and all night she was dying a slow death, the sun that had brought her to life had set her aside.

Somehow, someway, her pain and anguish pierced through the bitterness and to the sun’s heart. Out came his confessions that nearly destroyed her more than all of her time in the dark. But through his words she saw one tiny light, one little beam that may bring her back, for she had saved a seed from her bloom deep down in her heart.

“Would he ever shine again,” she wondered, but she didn’t know, so she would hold that seed safe so if he ever shone again, she would bloom and grow. His heart began healing, warmth once more began to fill her soul, her seed could be planted and they would watch it grow.

Her roots started to spread as his light began to shine more brightly, it wasn’t long and the roots grew up into little sprouts, seeing her growth brought more life to the sun and caused him to realize his effect on her. One day she bloomed, like coming out of a fog, his bloom had come back, lush and bright, emotionally raw but in his light she would heal.

What they both realized as the healing continued was how much they needed one another, she needed his light to keep a bright bloom, but he could not shine if she wilted, their lives were intertwined. This is what happens as we go through our lives, we bond with the one who will enrich us and help us grow inside.

The sun and bloom have a love some may call rare, we say indeed it is, it got us to hell and back, now we are brighter and stronger, better than ever before, a love beyond compare.