Someone I Loved

Sometimes, life fucking sucks.

You can go through your day feeling on top of the world and feeling like you’re getting somewhere, like you’re moving on. For me it happens often, more often than I would like actually. I feel great, surrounded by friends, laughing, enjoying the littlest moments to the fullest. Then before I know it I’m driving home late at night crying to every sad song on the radio. Screaming at the road as loud as my lungs can manage. Having a panic attack so bad that I can’t breath and I’m hitting my steering wheel so hard my knuckle are sore.

Life is like that. It lets you win some days just to remind you how weak you are others. But I’m learning that’s okay.

I used to think that I had to get through life pulling myself together constantly, because falling apart wasn’t good. Falling apart is healthy. It hurts and it sucks and it might make you feel weak, but it’s healthy and it means you’re healing.

There’s nothing wrong with healing.

So scream, cry, be angry, punch your steering wheel if you have to. Feel something and feel everything. Because it all matters.

-SincerelyKaley

I wrote this instead of calling you

You told me the truth today

Your truth

The 100% unfiltered truth

Your dreams

desires

wants

wishes.

And for another moment in my life,

I was reminded that I didn’t have a place

in yet another person’s life.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

words you kept repeating,

over and over.

I don’t want you to hurt me either,

but the truth is

you hurt me constantly.

From unanswered texts,

to not answering my phone calls,

when I’m mid-breakdown and having a shitty day.

From arguments that never fully got resolved

to ignoring me and being done

without ever hearing what I wanted to say.

From mixed emotions and behaviors

to you saying things you didn’t mean,

because it’s what you knew I wanted to hear.

From telling me your fears of ending up with the wrong person,

but swearing up and down that I was the “one.”

Only to leave me confused,

If I was “the one,” why do you still not want me?

Why do you not want me for the rest of your life?

If you loved me like you said you do,

“More than you’ve ever loved anyone, ever.”

Why do you not want long-term with me?

Is it because you can’t see it?

Or because you’re too scared that it might happen?

I hope you find what you’re looking for

I hope every dream, want, desire, and wish you have

come true

And maybe it’s petty of me,

but I hope you fall in love one day.

The type of love where you would say yes if they asked with a ring pop

the type of love that makes you want to change your life plans.

I hope they are unsure like you.

I hope you understand one day how it felt in this moment

to be me.

To be so all in and not have those feelings returned.

I want you happy

don’t get me wrong.

But I want you to know how it feels right now to be me too.

To see a future with someone so clearly,

and them not be able to see anything at all.

“Say Cheese”

I remember growing up my mother and grandmother always had a camera in my face. Wanting to capture every second of my life like it was going to be the most important second ever. It used to annoy me; family outings were never fully done until mom got the picture of me that she wanted. Sometimes, it even involved sitting through photo after photo with our dog Lucy, my grandmother making some weird noise to try to get my dog to look at the camera.

My entire life was documented by the people around me, but while it annoyed me then, now it’s one of the only things I have left to hold onto.

The thing about pictures is that they never change, even when people do. It’s a snapshot of a moment that was so perfect a visual reminder was needed to accompany it. They show the emotion of every individual in the frame and for that moment they portray, the world stands still. Preserving a memory that would soon be forgotten.

Truthfully, people who don’t take pictures every moment and chance they can scare me. Life is a beautiful thing, oftentimes, leaving us surrounded by beautiful people. Sometimes these people become family and sometimes they become strangers. My mom always used to tell me that, “People come into your life for two reasons: to stay with you throughout or to teach you a lesson.” Those words have stuck with me since I was a child.

I’ve had people come and grow in my life throughout my years, but the one thing that stays the same are the pictures. The pictures remind me of the lessons they taught, a part of me they helped discover, events that make me laugh all over again, and the person I used to be.

Pictures serve a reminder of the past and sometimes that’s the only reminder you end up having that people existed in your life to begin with.

-SincerelyKaley

I’m Still Learning

Sometimes, living in your head is a scary place.

I find myself being my judge and jury most of the time.

Picking every choice I make apart,

examining them under a microscope,

and stressing over the outcomes and consequences of actions made

in order to make myself happy again.

I’m realizing lately,

that every choice – good or bad,

have a purpose for the future.

They hold a purpose for me.

It teaches me to grow and heal from the past,

a new concept for someone who runs from everything.

I’m learning that without the insanely shitty times,

the insanely good times would be a little less sweet.

I’m learning that I control my feelings,

not the situations that bombard my life.

I’m learning not to seek validation

from temporary people who hold no place in my future.

I’m learning to enjoy being alone.

I’m learning to heal

and that’s really the only thing I want going through my head.

-KBB

01.10.2020| Breakdown

And before you know it,

the sad songs become your new happy ones.

Because the pain you feel

was felt by someone else too.

For a moment, you think everything will be okay.

That for the first time in a long time,

you know you won’t feel like this forever.

That you will move on and be happy again.

But then you hear that one happy song,

the one that puts you at the center of a memory.

Suddenly, you’re back in his car

on a long road trip,

both singing off key to every song that comes on the radio.

You can’t help but be reminded of those better times.

When the future seemed definite

and your heart wasn’t ripping into pieces.

You wanted to laugh about that memory with them,

but you look around and are reminded that they aren’t here anymore.

You found yourself breaking down today,

because you want to go back to that time.

To long road trips and singing off key to every song on the radio.

And before you know it you realize,

that the songs that used to make you happy

are now the ones that make you sad.

That the happy songs are now a constant reminder

of just how uncertain the future is.

A Letter To Me Now

You’re okay

You’re going to move on

I know the past few months have been your own personal hell

that you’ve lost friends

a partner

people you loved

things you cared about

and situations you invested too much time in.

But you’re growing

you’re changing.

I’ve never been prouder of you

than I am watching you become the person you always were.

Heartache hurts

but it teaches you lessons

that you wouldn’t have learned otherwise.

I’m proud of you for being strong enough

to get through it in a healthy way.

You’re trying.

Sometimes that’s a victory in itself.

Leave A Message At The Tone

I found myself wanting to call you today

but I realized I can’t talk to the person

who hurt me about what’s hurting me

I see you so clearly in my mind

everywhere I go

You’re in my room

eating Taco Bell on the floor

You’re in my car

singing along to every song you know

You’re at the grocery store

picking up apples and caramel

You’re at my front door

doing what you do best,

walking away.

The truth is, I’m still hurt.

But I’ll never tell you that.

Because telling you

would be me justifying how you acted,

putting a bandaid over my gaping wound

and telling you that it didn’t hurt that bad.

That if you apologize or kiss it and make it better

it’ll be like it never existed

like it never happened.

But it did.

It all happened.

You happened.

I almost called you today,

but instead I deleted your number

and reminded myself that I deserve better

than an uncertain little boy

who could never make up his mind

when it came to anything involving me.

Thank you Lauren

I went to counseling today

and had a mental breakdown

Lauren, stared back at me

I’m sure wondering how long I’d keep all these feelings to myself

But she just sat

and was quiet

She listened to my concerns

and didn’t judge me when I was unsure of what I wanted

she just listened

I never had that before

I grew up in disfunction

where yelling and cursing were actions assigned to love

I grew up watching two people who hated each other

stay together out of the thought that it would benefit me

it never benefited me

But as I told Lauren all of this

she just sat across from me

an emotionless face

and listened

and after she told me my feelings were valid

Telling My Story

I have tried telling this story a thousand times in my life. Each time, I cut myself off at the spots that were the hardest. The parts I don’t remember, the parts my brain blocked out from my subconscious, the parts that hurt the most.

The truth is, I don’t remember. Not fully, never fully. Instead, I get reminders. The smell of peaches. The taste of moonshine. The feel of a heavy body on mine. Sudden touches I never asked for. The smell of Old Spice deodorant. The way the house smelt and smell of alcohol on his breath.

I don’t remember saying yes and I don’t remember saying no. Truthfully, I don’t remember saying anything. Maybe due to the fact that I was so drunk I couldn’t even walk straight. I remember I loved him. That’s it, but I also remember flashbacks of that night hitting me like a freight train. I’d wake up screaming, crying sometimes when they were vivid. I couldn’t stand the smell of peaches for years, and once the flashbacks started, and questions about that night began to be answered, I couldn’t stand him either.

I was sixteen years old when I was raped by the guy I loved. I was sixteen years old when I discovered every terrible story you hear about, ended up happening to me. I was sixteen years old when I learned the real definition of trauma. I was sixteen. The highlight of my youth. The year I got my driver’s license. Sixteen.

I struggled a long time with moving on. Even longer learning ways to cope. Longer when it came to not acting like it didn’t happen. It’s been almost six years, and I still have flashbacks. I still smell the peaches. I can still feel his hands on my body. I can still smell the Old Spice. I still wake up screaming sometimes, other times crying.

The thing about trauma is that you learn to live with it. You learn as the years go by, that while you can’t change it, you can choose to turn it into something positive. Join a support group. Volunteer at a woman’s shelter. Help women who went through the same things you did. Learn how you want to cope, but don’t sit and dwell on events your brain purposefully hides from you. There’s a reason, a defense mechanism. It’s your brains way of protecting you from things that caused you pain.

It’s been six years and I eat peaches again. The smell of Old Spice deodorant doesn’t make me want to vomit. I still don’t like moonshine, now just because I find it nasty. Touches don’t overwhelm me anymore, they don’t trigger flashbacks. It’s been six years and I find myself doing better everyday. I find myself moving on more everyday.

If you or someone you know is a victim of sexual assault and violence please, do not be afraid to reach out and ask for help. You are not alone. You are in control of what happens after.

Call 800.656.HOPE (4673) to be connected with a trained staff member from a sexual assault service provider in your area.

OR

Visit the link below regarding information on the types of support and help you have available to you:

https://www.healthline.com/health/sexual-assault-resource-guide

As always,

-SincerelyKaley

My Experience In Greek Life|Delta Phi Epsilon

When I was a kid, I remember being so fascinated with sororities and Greek life. I remember being so excited to go off to Harvard Law School like El Woods did while also having an entire support system behind her. Or finding some kick-ass friends like Shelly in House Bunny. Unfortunately, while I was never a Playboy centerfold or particularly smart enough to get into Harvard; I did get one of my wishes.

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If we are being honest, I got into skincare later in life. My mom let me play around with makeup when I was younger and unfortunately, the products that are viewed as “holy grails” were not around back then. I struggled with acne my entire life due to the fact I did not know how to take care of my skin properly.

That being said, I think it is important for me to add that around the age of sixteen I had experimented with so many face washes and moisturizers to the point I began to think nothing would work for me. It wasn’t until I was around eighteen that I stumbled upon the brand Murad. To this day it is still the only staple I have in my skincare routine and I have never faltered from using it.

However, other than my Murad facewash, I can’t say I have a “routine” when it comes to my skin. On some days, I do my skin care routine in the morning and night, other times I may go the entire day and not touch my skin at all. It is simply a touch and go process for me and it depends completely on how lazy I am feeling on any given day.

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Welcome back to my blog. It has been a crazy few weeks! Around May 17th I got my tonsils out and was down for the count for a bit there. That being said, I am doing much better now and decided to come at you with a blog post today. I haven’t done a monthly favorites in a while so I figured why not. I’ve expanded my music taste, hobbies, and a bunch more. Hopefully, you find even one of these slightly interesting.

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December 18th, 2018

I’ve had this fantasy version of my husband in my head since I was a kid. I used to imagine what he would look like and daydream of the day we would get to meet. I used to write him letters and pray for him. I would put on my grandmother’s baby blue robe (that was way too long on my short body) and pretend it was my wedding dress. I would practice walking down the aisle to this person, daydreaming of the day it would really happen. This man was always in my thoughts.

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