One order of healing, with a side of life.

8 months....

That's how long it's taken me to get back. I've been writing, a lot. Less in the last two months or so. Life, ya know?
But still, progress has been made. I have no idea where to begin. So much has happened in those 8 months. I moved, into my own place. The business now has its own place.
Life has shifted, a lot.
I celebrated 2 years of sobriety last month, and recently started trauma therapy.

The summary doesn't do the experience justice.

Tonight I am typing through hard tears. This therapy, called EMDR, is nothing like I ever imagined experiencing. I am enduring a lot of feelings, a lot of triggers, and having a really hard time maintaining connections with those I care for throughout it. I feel walled off in Plexiglas. I can't always decide if this is for my protection, or theirs. Either way, I can't seem to fully be with anyone in any given moment, other than my children. They are magic. They can cross any barrier. And I thank my higher power fo…

Defining Me

I have spent a large portion of my life being told how I feel, what I am thinking, and who I am. This began when I was very young, and has been perpetuated by many other relationships throughout my life. It took me a long time to realize that this was happening, and that in most cases I didn't actually think or feel the way others said. The saying goes, 'once you see the pattern, it cannot be unseen.' I can affirm this. I see it in so many of my interactions with people I have known my entire life. In fact, it happened recently. Someone that cares for me greatly told me that I was not happy. At first I just absorbed it, clearly they know better than me. And then it hit me, no the fuck they don't. They are not actually very present in my life. I call them to check in and say hello, and sometimes I share the hard stuff...but mostly I don't anymore. Because then I hear how they think I feel or am doing. I am learning that often when others are unhappy, they project t…

Let go and fly

I really want to write about my imploding life right now. I want to share how devastated I am, how I almost had a slip the other night...17 months sober. I want to tell you all about what a fucking failure I feel like, and how I just want to wake up from this nightmare.
But I can't. Too many cycling emotions surround me now. Too much pain. And since many of the stories I want to share have clearly had years to marinate, my current story...ending unknown...will come out in its own time.
With that, I am going to tell you the story of my almost. As I share these seasons of life, you may notice that they are out of order. There is no real reason for that, other than they call to be written when they are ready. I have been doing a lot of reflecting on relationships from my past recently, not just for the purposes of my current project, but also as a reminder of times of love and kindness and growth. Reflection helps us to see the lessons we were presented during times of change. Hopef…

Love me, Please

It's a hard truth when you wake up at 35 years young and realize that the knight you were waiting on, the grand warrior to make life easier and filled with romance and adventure...has been here all along.  Inside of you. But the truth isn't meant to be easily digested, it simply is.
This all began with the idea that I needed to write. I need to write almost as much as I love to run and need to breathe. It's a calling I have had since I was a child writing poetry and songs. I have always loved words, I just didn't know the name of the story that called to me. I searched it out for awhile. I gave up, I came back. I got lost, I got hurt, I almost died. And yet, when I came out on the other side of all the shit...the words still beckoned. In the past few months the words have started taking on a shape. A title emerged. A feeling of completion has drawn near. I am pulled, hard, into the necessity of this. 
I am inspired by many of the stories out there. Resilience, triumph…

Dear Jessica

Dear (younger) Jessica,
I hear you and see you. You didn't get the chance t be seen or heard when you needed it. And now you have decided to take over. I appreciate your passion, but I am kind of trying to love and fully embrace life right now. So let's have a chat.
You were hurt. You were assaulted. You were wronged. And then...they shamed you and lied about you and did all the terrible things no one should do to a child of 15-16 years.  Not you. THEM. But they have also moved on.  So should we. Let go.  You are such a badass woman now with so much to be thankful for.  Let go. Dion't forget, never forget. Just relinquish. They were wrong. You were a child and you had a boundary. It was violated. That is nothing to be ashamed of, what would you tell your child? Let go. It's time to stop being angry. It's poisoning you. There have been and are amazing men. Amazing people. They have loved and do love you. They have supported and do support you. You are safe. You are accomplish…

Discovering my WHY was bullshit.

The minute she said that "your WHY is soul deep" I knew I was in trouble.
Let's back up a bit. By now you know I was (am? it's an on going debate) a runner. It's one of the core components of this blog. It's a huge part of my survival story, my healing, downfall. Apparently. How did I come to this realization? I listened to a badass ultrarunner named Sarah break down the 'WHY.' Her entire talk was a freaking gut punch. And that is when I knew, the layers of the onion that is Jessica's healing and recovery just got even more complex.
This latest layer peeling begins with something called the Women's Movement Collaborative (click the link womxn to join up!!), and a 2nd life altering weekend at OSI in Fuquay-Varina, NC. A gift from the universe. There have been a lot of these lately, and y'all, I won't even pretend to understand. I am just going to say I have mountains of gratitude. Ok, so there is this WMC thing, there are all …

How are you really feeling?

Some days you just need to write, and today is one of those days. I have finally cried, tears I have needed for months. Big, gasping, bucketfuls of tears. So many my head and throat and eyes hurt. I imagine I will be quite puffy tomorrow, and yet, I don't think they are done. I sense many more in my near future.

Once upon a time I believed that crying was weakness. We are supposed to be happy, always. To be anything else was utter failure. Humans are happy. Elated, even. Except these over simplified emotions never fully explained the complexity of life events for me. Since I couldn't have the emotions I thought I was supposed to be having every second of every day, I used drugs and alcohol to help me. If I was completely numb, then all the emotions blurred. Of course, as you can imagine, that didn't work out so hot. Alcohol did exactly what it is supposed to do and provided very temporary positive effects that spiraled into heavy doses of magnified anxiety and depression e…