I wrote my way,
Not only out of shitty situations;
I wrote my way
In the direction
Of desired destinations.
I wrote my way
Through reflection.
I wrote my way
Through trepidation and hesitation.
I wrote my way
Through rejection;
And I wrote my way
Through miscommunications.

I wrote my way;
Forged my own path
Away from suicide.
I wrote my way;
Taught myself to laugh,
And received comfort when I cried.
I wrote my way
To a heart full of pride
Because I have a fuck-ton to be proud of;
That cannot be denied.
I wrote my way
Amidst a cloud of
When you ask them what instances
They’ve witnessed, this
Is what they’ll say:

“HM has come so far.
She has worked on herself every day.
She has discovered more about who her personalities are,
And has practiced learning from her pain.
She has broken the cycle of abuse,
Because she, alone, is the one that did choose
To break her chains and no longer remain
In that environment,
As a requirement
To reclaim feeling sane.”

“We are amazed by how she has embraced change.
The life she knew
Less than 6 months ago
Is now estranged.
Not knowing what she would do,
She let go.
She left her marriage,
Absorbed the ways her husband disparaged her,
And refused to further perpetuate or demonstrate
Abusive dynamics to her step-son.
She’s entrenched in an uphill battle, but has already won.
She believes she is worthy of happiness and love.
When push literally came to shove,
She created new life from decay
Because she wrote her own way.”

I wrote my way
Through PTSD triggers;
I wrote my way
Through the challenges and rigors
Of 7 co-morbid diagnostic variants of mentally ill.
I wrote my way
Through the power of will.

I wrote my way
Trying to escape the void,
Trying to avoid my woe.
I wrote my way
To my essence that cannot be destroyed;
Not by pain, rage, anguish or sorrow.
I wrote my way
To a better today,
And I wrote my way
To a better tomorrow.
I wrote my way
And discovered me
Along my journey to recovery.

I wrote my way
And found something greater than the heavens above;
Greater than any god ever is, will be, or was.
This blasphemy is a badge of honor to me
In my persistence
I wrote my way
To an existence
Of self love.

H.M. Loving

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Pictures of me- the sad ones are from 2018 and 2019, and the happy pictures are from early 2020.

Written by

Writer of poetry, dark fiction, and social commentary; Reading and writing about the human experience.

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