I know my worth, and it’s not on the discount rack.
In every relationship, honesty and transparency are the cornerstones of trust. I’ve always believed in being open about my feelings and desires, hoping for the same in return. From the very beginning, I made it clear that being ignored was something I couldn’t tolerate. I expressed my need to feel prioritized and the pain I felt when confronted with lies.
Yet, despite my transparency, I found myself facing a harsh reality. Eight months into what I thought was a committed relationship, I discovered a significant deception. The person I trusted had concealed the fact that they were still married. When confronted, he brushed it off, claiming he “felt” divorced, and even attempted to diminish my concerns by accusing me of being judgmental and overreacting.
But it wasn’t just about the lie. It was about the countless weekends I spent alone, sidelined for family time without inclusion. It was about witnessing an altered personality emerge with each excessive drink consumed. It was about observing disrespectful behavior from his children and feeling powerless to address it. It was about discovering undisclosed interactions with his ex-wife. It was about being expected to play a role I wasn’t comfortable with in a family dynamic riddled with dysfunction.
Despite my efforts to communicate my needs, they were met with dismissal and deflection. When I needed support during sickness, I was met with indifference and the dismissive declaration, “I’m not doing drama.”
Well, enough is enough. I refuse to be gaslit any longer. I refuse to be relegated to a position of insignificance. I refuse to be someone’s afterthought.
To the man who only loves me on his terms, and to anyone who disregards my worth and dismisses my feelings, I say: I am not your #5. I am not a supporting character in your drama. I am a person deserving of honesty, respect, and consideration. And if you cannot provide that, then you are not worthy of my time or energy.
I am reclaiming my agency, my dignity, and my voice. I am walking away from toxic relationships and embracing the freedom to be authentically myself. And whoever comes into my life next will have the privilege of experiencing the wonderful person that I am, without the burden of someone else’s drama.
Goodbye You, Goodbye to the chaos, the lies, and the disrespect. Hello to a future filled with self-love, boundaries, and genuine connections.
Have you ever stumbled upon a random penny? Do you know about the concept of “pennies from heaven”? If not, let me share my story. I find pennies all the time—years’ worth of them. My Nana used to tell me that these are pennies from heaven, left by our family, loved ones, and guardian angels watching over us. Each penny is a reassuring sign that we are loved and protected. Throughout the years, I’ve discovered hundreds of these small tokens, each time feeling a profound sense of warmth and reassurance.
Fast forward to today. I work as a Health Coach, visiting people in their homes. Some are battling severe illnesses, others are grappling with deep depression, and many are dealing with a combination of both. I make it my mission to genuinely listen and understand their struggles. Each day proves fulfilling, but today was special.
As I approached a patient’s apartment, I spotted a lone penny on the ground. Without hesitation, I picked it up and slipped it into my pocket. Little did I know, this small coin would play a significant role in my day. The patient, a woman with fragile health, was already sipping on wine when I arrived at 10 am. Her story unfolded, revealing a heart-wrenching journey marked by the loss of several family members, including her own daughter.
She shared tales of despair and sadness, tears flowing freely. I found myself swept up in her emotional narrative, shedding a few tears of my own. Toward the end of our visit, I remembered the penny in my pocket. Pulling it out, I asked her if she knew about “pennies from heaven.” She nodded, having heard a story about it before. I handed her the penny, explaining that I had found it outside her apartment, and it was meant for her, not me. It was a message from her departed loved ones, a sign that they were still with her, offering comfort and love.
As I left her apartment, I couldn’t help but reflect on the emotional exchange. Walking to my car, I looked down and, there it was – another penny. This time, I felt it was meant for me. A silent acknowledgment from her departed loved ones, expressing gratitude for caring about her. In that moment, the cyclical dance of finding and giving pennies took on a profound and interconnected meaning.
Find a penny, give a penny, get a penny. It can be that simple.
The day began on a high note. I felt invigorated, overcoming major physical setbacks to lead one of my fitness classes—a promising start. Anticipating sharing the joy of myself imposed success with my person, I looked forward to diving into my significant responsibilities at my job, where I help those genuinely in need. The morning and day unfolded seamlessly until a sudden realization hit me—a noticeable silence, a ghosting. My person… Ah, yes, his day commenced with the unraveling of… his ghosts.
Navigating life’s challenges often calls for empathy, understanding, and a willingness to offer hall passes to those facing trials and tribulations. However, there comes a juncture where it’s crucial to discern when to blow the whistle and throw the yellow penalty flag. Determining this point involves assessing the impact of someone’s actions on themselves and others, the repeated nature of certain behaviors, and whether providing continuous allowances perpetuates a cycle of negative consequences. It’s a delicate balance—one that requires consideration of both compassion and accountability.
At what juncture, and at what cost to my own feelings, do I ponder the duration required for personal growth? I find myself baffled by my person’s apparent inability to truly see me and grasp the impact of their actions on my well-being. The overarching question that lingers is, when do I declare ‘enough’? How many instances of facing plant moments will it take for me to acknowledge that there’s a pressing issue at hand?
Failure… Whose responsibility is it? It seems the finger points to the recurring face plants—I find myself repeatedly planted on the ground. I am the one who advocates open dialogue, the candid conversationalist. Transparency is my forte; I harbor no secrets or lies. Imperfection is my admission, but authenticity—raw, honest, and true—is my essence.
When do I regain my balance and put an end to the consistent face-planting? The undeniable truth is that I hold the reins, the sole controller of this narrative. The looming question remains—when will I firmly take root and put an end to repeatedly smacking my face on the ground?
I’ve read a quote “It’s usually the stuff you want to do the least that changes your life the most.”
Failure, face planting, don’t seem to be working for me. Time to consider a face lift.
When someone says: “Expect the unexpected” Slap them and say: “You didn’t expect that did you?
It’s the little things… or perhaps, the big things. The line between them blurs, and I find myself questioning if they’re truly separate entities or intricately intertwined. After a considerable hiatus, the urge to put pen to paper has resurfaced, fueled by a persistent feeling that’s difficult to articulate.
This sensation stems from a culmination of seemingly inconspicuous details that have morphed into a singular, substantial entity. Amidst this amalgamation, the loss of Lorick stands out as an undeniable significant event—a truly big thing that has left an indelible mark on my life.
Reflecting on this, I’ve come to the realization that I was trapped in a state of paralysis. Stuck in the relentless routine of day-to-day life, I found myself mired in a profound sense of unhappiness. Interestingly, this stagnant state persisted even longer than Lorick’s absence, making me acutely aware of the gravity of my situation.
The little things, once dismissed, have coalesced into a formidable force, prompting me to confront the larger issues at play. It’s a journey of self-discovery and acknowledgment, a realization that the seemingly insignificant elements can wield profound influence, and that addressing them is pivotal to breaking free from the shackles of, stuck ness.
So, with this realization in mind, I made the conscious decision to unstick myself—a process I had been grappling with for quite some time. The challenge lay in identifying the right solvent to dissolve the stickiness that had held me captive.
Step one involved embarking on a quest to find a new job—one that would not just be a means of employment but a source of genuine fulfillment. I sought a role that would allow me to engage in activities that resonate with the essence of who I am, particularly my passion for helping others.
Step two required a leap of faith in trusting the process. Embracing change and believing in the journey ahead, even when the path seemed uncertain, became an integral part of this transformative process.
Then came step three—the pivotal moment of pulling the trigger. It was about making a definitive choice and committing to the decisions that would reshape my life. This step, though daunting, marked the initiation of a journey towards a more authentic and satisfying existence.
Step four, the final act, simply involved taking a breath and acknowledging that the deed was done. The culmination of these steps ushered in a new chapter, free from the constraints of stagnation. I had successfully dissolved the stickiness that once bound me, opening doors to possibilities and opportunities that align with my true self.
Having successfully navigated the journey of self-liberation, I found myself pondering the significance of sharing my experiences, particularly those intertwined with Lorick. The canvas of my life is adorned with a myriad of intriguing, diverse, and challenging experiences, each capable of enriching any conversation, regardless of who sits around the table.
However, this week—though it’s only Wednesday—I noticed a distinct inclination to bring my bipolar journey through life with Lorick to the forefront of these conversations. Surprisingly, both aspects of my experiences were unveiled like a meticulously prepared gourmet dinner, served to my unsuspecting guests.
It made me reflect on the nature of vulnerability and authenticity in storytelling. Lorick’s role in my life, with all its intricacies and challenges, became a poignant thread in the tapestry of my narrative. Sharing this facet allowed me to connect with others on a deeper level, fostering genuine understanding and empathy.
I realized that there is immense power in embracing the entirety of one’s journey, including the complexity of relationships and mental health. By bringing these experiences to the table, I created an opportunity for meaningful connections, transcending the superficial layers of conversation.
Yet, my grief remains a constant companion. Each day, its presence lingers, shrouded in an enigmatic ‘why’ that often eludes understanding. I find myself caught in a cycle of replaying moments, wrestling with regret, and fervently wishing for a different outcome. The harsh reality, however, is that I cannot alter the irreversible; Lorick is gone, and I am here, alive.
My pain, my enduring suffering, possesses a unique potential—a transformative power that could mend someone else’s brokenness. It struck me that, through the ability to lend a compassionate ear, an understanding mind, and a heart willing to help, I could channel my experiences into a force for healing.
Life, as I’ve observed, unfolds unevenly, distributing its fairness and unfairness without discernible rhyme or reason. Bearing witness to this inherent injustice, I acknowledge the weight of my own struggles. Yet, in embracing the unfairness, I’ve discovered an opportunity to do the right thing, to utilize my pain as a catalyst for positive change.
It’s an acknowledgment that life’s hardships can be repurposed to bring solace to others. Lorick, I believe, would find solace in the idea that his absence could serve a greater purpose, no matter the subject. Nurturing empathy, understanding, and healing in the lives of those who may share similar struggles.
I am free, I am fearless, I am me, But sometimes fear has held me tight, not letting me be. But now I’m determined to break that stubborn hold, And let my fearless spirit take hold.
Pain, suffering, and more pain, My mind tells me it’s all in my brain. No room for remorse, no space for forgiveness, I choose to fight and resist.
But I’ve learned from experience, education, and enlightenment, That true fearlessness comes from accepting and not fighting. So I let it seep into my brain, And now my fearless spirit will sustain.
I won’t settle for the untold, But will challenge myself to break the mold. I’m fearless, because life as I see it, Is something I can embrace with pride and spirit.
So I am free, I am fearless, I am me, Ready to embrace whatever life may be.
On an island, I reside, A place of peace where I can hide. But don’t be fooled by the serene view, For demons lurk within me too.
They hide behind my smiling face, Their presence I cannot erase. They whisper secrets I cannot ignore, And beg me to open up the door.
But are you out there? No, I am in here, My soul, my old soul, full of fear. I cannot outrun the pain inside, So I must settle and abide.
I’ll face the demons, one by one, Until their hold on me is done. I’ll dig deep and find the strength I need, To heal my wounds and let them bleed.
For on this island, I am not alone, And though the demons have overthrown, My spirit remains strong and true, And I’ll fight until the battle is through.
So let the waves crash and the winds howl, For I’ll rise above them with a growl. My island solitude may be my plight, But I’ll emerge stronger, full of light.
The Dish by Deni 