Are you manifesting positive intentions today?

No, actually!

Today I feel sad. It happens. And although I have much to be grateful for, it still happens.

There are days when memories creep into my present. There are days when the sound of someone’s voice can still send me into a tailspin.

I could pretend that I have it all figured out. I could pretend that all is well. I could pretend that I feel 100 percent confident about the future when it feels uncertain. I could pretend that I am fine while encouraging others to share their true feelings.

You won’t find that here. I’ve worn a different set of masks for all occasions.

It’s exhausting, and so far removed from being vulnerable it sickens me.

It may feel safe, but it isn’t. If we keep running, eventually, we run out of safe places to hide.

Playing safe in life got me nowhere fast. Safe got me to the point of settling for far less than I deserved. Safe upped my anxiety and tried to sweep my grief under the rug. Safe led to me seeking approval over authenticity.

I was told to “always be positive,” but that would be unequivocal bullsh*t.

Telling someone to only think positively is dangerous. It minimizes their truth, and their pain, for one reason: to make it more digestible.

I want the truth. I want to know how someone really feels.

Please, tell me your truth—it will give me the strength to share mine.

It allows the flood gates, full of tears, joy, anger, and laughter, to open wide enough to also let love flow in.

Some will say, “Do not share your weaknesses. Do not talk about any part of your past that remains unhealed. Talk about the message, not the mess. The testimony, not the test. No matter what, be positive. But be honest.”

Talk about an oxymoron. It’s a conundrum and yet another imbalance of power.

Why don’t we just throw in some victim-blaming while we are at it?

Positive thinking is a catalyst for change, but it is not the change. Change is hard freaking work! Change requires feeling it all; surviving, in spite of it all.

I’m not ashamed to be a victim. It takes sheer will, and strength, and a damn good sense of humor.

I am just a Trauma Queen who spent a lifetime moving around the checkerboard trying to not get kinged. But life isn’t a game of checkers, it’s a game of freaking chess. I am not a chess champion—yet.

But, at least I am willing to learn how to strategically move forward, sometimes backward. Both to the left and to the right. North, south, east, west. If I only head north to the land of the awakened, I’ll have no survival skills for when the tide shifts.

Manifest some positives, really?

Can someone, please, first, manifest some freaking directions, because you lost me the minute you minimized my truth for the sake of not ruffling any feathers!

Positive preaching without the journey is a lot like the predatory nature of grooming; it’s used to make one complacent, silent, ashamed, fearful of failing or being perceived as a failure.

Been there, done that!

I’m tired of wearing a survivor label like it was all something to be proud of. I am a victim, and I have Complex PTSD as a battle scar. I will not cover it up, or hide it behind a fake smile.

I have been traumatized. I own who I became, in spite of it: open-minded, whole-hearted, non-judgemental, honest, resilient, kind.

I am real: authentic, crafted with compassion, empathy, clothed in blood, sweat, and tears.

My open heart is my armor—a story of my own recovery, made by my two hands alone.

That is a work of art. And therein lies my power.