Flight

I found myself wavering, questioning my choices in the past few days. When I was kicked out of the house two weeks ago, told to never come back, was I wrong for following through with just that? Have I been rash? Rebellious? Where my actions based in sane self-preservation and logic? Or shrouded with adolescent desire?

The facts are these: I have lived, all my life, in an abusive home. Be it manifested more on the physical or verbal spectrum at any given time, it was always the bottom line of my familial existence. I have spent 18 years miserable in this environment. No my mother is not a North Korean dictator. Not every single moment of my life has been miserable. We have had our happy memories. In the past few years, it is almost even safe to say that things were alright most of the time. But despite things being "okay," the residue of the tortured relationship of my mother and father is still palpable between her and me. A phantom in our connection, it is a ghost that won't let go. She looks at the person she thinks I am with eyes of disgust and blame - to her, I am wicked and at fault for all of her problems. It is also the case that no matter how long she is in my life, and even after I eventually (hopefully) escape her, my being at fault will remain the truth in her eyes. I will be blamed for everything from her poor health, to her sham of a marriage, to her self-induced misery.

After hearing her voice for the first time today, any doubt about my actions was evaporated completely. I do not deserve to blamed for someone's life. I should not have to live in fear - of her, of verbal or physical violence. I, as an incredibly mature and responsible being of my age (which I shall be so bold as to state with momentary certainty that I am), have every right to a free and happy life. A life away from game playing, and power trips, and guilting, and incessant sensory hate. A life away from a miserable past, and from dwelling on it, and talking about it over and over again. A life away from two absolutely volatile and miserable "adults," who's only intention is to weave themselves silly in spiderwebs of deceit, playing power games and attempting to inflict as much hurt and darkness upon others as they feel inside.

I am not being childish or petty about this. Though the freedom of going where I want, or staying out til whenever is certainly a perk I have enjoyed -one that has me to question the validity of my logic in this whole affair - I re-realised today that it is certainly not my bottom line. I support myself, medically, financially, etc. School and two jobs - I am doing my absolute best to make it so that I require nothing of her. I am certainly not trying to act out, or be dramatic, or even cast blame. I do not want to run off and do drugs, or bitch about how mean my mommy is. This woman may have given me life, a fact to which I attest and know I should be grateful. But she has done nothing short of making me regret that as she does every single day of my existence. Honor thy father and mother, most religions ask of us, but from my perspective, I have paid my penance. I owe these people nothing more than I have already given. And be the very damnation of my soul the cost, I refuse to allow my life to be sucked in to someone else's black hole of misery.

I, Katherine Elizabeth Stevens, am ready to begin my new life. I am ready to wake up, and be happy, and not have to fight so goddamned hard for that every single day. I am ready to be done with drama and with second guessing. I don't care what happened in the past. Mom, Dad, you both are who you are and that's fine by me. I'm not angry about anything you have done to me, I understand you both as people and your individual logics too well for that. This is not about blame, or judgement, or me wanting to cause any more drama than we have all already been through here. Play your games all you want to, I don't mind. But I refuse to be apart of them any more.

No love. No hate. No anger. No affect. Just done.

mind aflutter

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be capable of true monogamy.

My gut instinct tells me no, of course not. It's not something I ever

believed in. Some idealized fantasy of simpler times. Completely impractical in the modern world.

Not only am I the kind of person who can never make a solid decision - always bouncing around, sometimes just pausing to revel in possibility - but I'm also the kind of person who doesn't let things go.

The few people I have truly liked have been incredibly difficult for me to get over. So difficult in fact, that it has scared me out of pursuing people of genuine interest (but that's another blog for another time).

I love Nathan, it's nothing like that, but yet...

sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to look into the familiar baby blues of my best friend without my heart melting, or talk on the phone to an almost without wondering about what might have been.

Someday it'd be nice to find out what it would be like to follow the butterflies.

Rainy Days Again

So, it's back. That god-awful claustrophobic feeling. The one that's like a million tiny electric insects crawling under your skin - you can't sit still. I warded it off for a while. Quite a while. Almost had forgotten it entirely. I occupied myself with other tasks, delighted in summer, captured the feeling of life.

But now, now I can't hide from it it seems. My life has become scheduled/rudimentary/structured/boring/normal again. I can't handle it. I was not designed to live the same day twice. I am not a person who does well with too much structure. I thought it was just everyone leaving me that was cause for the growing hole of darkness in my chest, but it seems this sinking feeling is back. The first sign of a new wave of depression.I find it almost every fall. I'm really trying to fight it off with all my might, but I don't know. I don't feel capable of handling all that is on my plate, and the weight of the responsibility is starting to make me feel trapped.

I really LOVE my life right now. I love my boyfriend. I love my job. I love my school. For once I can't wait to learn again, and I really don't want to lose this. I can't bear the thought off falling into the darkness, as I so often doing, and losing the feeling of things as they are. But at the same time, I'm not sure how to beat this slump. How do you fight the inevitable?

Am I? I often wonder. Am I one of the many victims of this "depression" they so often talk about. I've always told myself that the waves I go through were normal. My sense of personal responsibility nags me to fight my own battles and never surrender to any feat. But I mean, is it so wrong to want to always be happy? Is it that bad to go to a doctor and, when qualifiable of course, ask them to make you feel better? Something about it, be it the subconscious stigma placed on it by my mother or my ridiculous amount of egotistical pride tells me that medicating is for the weak, and yet, how nice would it be to not have to feel this hopeless way I find myself every so often? To never again face a suicidal thought inducing bout of depression?

I don't want to be one of those "Americans." The lazy, chicken shit stereotypes who don't face their own damn problems. The "quick-fix seekers," mere tools of a idealistic marketing strategy in a consumeristic society. Nor do I wish to be some medicated drone, dependent on a prescription to get her through the day, never truly feeling, because her feelings have been "stabilized." I want to be a responsible individual. I want to truly feel alive. But this possibility of a life where I don't constantly have to feel like I'm running from a dark cloud, always watching my back, looking for my next quick fix of sunshine just to keep my skies blue, it's tempting sometimes. Maybe I deserve to try something else - to stop and catch my breath.

Imma Be Me

Fuck them. Fuck them all. The stereotypes, the standards, the status quo. The ones who make me doubt. The negative voices that invade my peaceful reality. The ones who constantly tell me how relationships are a waist, that the material is my worth, and try to define the ideal. Those who induce questioning thoughts - hesitations that prevent me from my happiness. Screw everything that says I have to look like this, I have to behave like that. Forget everything always telling me how me, my life, my relationships should be. To hell with the cynics, the media, the nameless, faceless mean girls. Fuck them all.

I'm living. I'm happy. I will doubt no more.

Transition

So much change in so little time. It's really quite crazy. I look back at that girl I was in high school, just a few months ago, and I hardly even recognize her. She was so awkward. She spent so much time worrying what other people thought of her. She really had so much fear.

It's really hard to even fathom how much I've grown up since then. I mean sure, I'm 18, by no means am I done with this transition, but I'm pausing to glance around in the midst. The foundation of who I am will always be me. But I like the person I am now so much better. She's so much more assured. She's so incredibly strong.

It's funny. You go through high school and every little thing seems so important. The experiences you'll take with you, the true friendships will stay, and the memories you'll cherish...but the second it's over, you look back and realize that none of that other bullshit mattered.

In a Perfect World

I can't wait to be in this place

Be it actual, or metaphorical I don't care

So long as it is

A place where I don't have to wake up to yelling

Or fall asleep in tears

A place where I'm not told daily that I'm ugly,

useless,

unwanted

A place that truly let's me believe that the only opinion of me that matters is my own

A place where I can make my own life choices,

and not have them questioned

A place where I don't have to worry about where I'm going to sleep at night

Or how I'm going to afford food for the day

A place where I don't have to be beaten

and told over and over again that I deserve it

until I actually start to b e l i e v e

A place where I don't have to be yelled at for crying

Told tears are for the spineless

A place that I will not be told that I am unloved

told that I never have been and never will be

because I'm a "useless fucking cunt"

My own mother rues the day I was born.

A place where the people in my life aren't after having power over me,

So high and mighty in their authority

Holding it over my head with crossed arms and taunting faces

Perfect image of a three-year-old, spoiled rotten

They tell me that this place, does in fact exist.

I hope and pray that it does.

But sometimes it's hard to hang on to you're hope.

In fact, after so many years,

It can be hard just trying to convince yourself that you're worthy of anything better.

Calm Before the Storm

I have this dream sometimes

I sit comfortably,

Wrapped in the blanket of my life I am cozy an warm

All is quite, and peaceful

But then I start to shiver

A chill sets in

I grow cold

The blanket starts to rock like waves

Until it has sublimated completely

Suddenly, I'm beneath a dark ocean

Black water enveloping my spirit

It pulls me

down

Fast, powerful waves thrash me about, ripping me apart

A suffocation I can feel in my veins

I don't remember which way is up.

I don't remember how I got here.

I don't remember what it feels like to be safe.

Not My Mother's Daughter

She would love the way he opens doors for me

She would love the way he always pays

She would love the way he is sweet and kind

Though she would chastise me for relying on a man

She would hate his family,

his household,

his parents

Three of the things I love most

She would hate the way he behaves,

the way he is so completely his own person

She would love his sense of humor

if ever she gave it a chance

I would hope she would see that her daughter, does in fact, have some sense of giving her affections only to the worthy

She would hate the trivial things

Like the height difference

Or his heritage

He is the greatest thing in my life

And she the worst

She would hate a great many of the things that make me love him

And she would hate that he is mine

Bartholomew and Jack

Is it?

Is it crazy to think you can have met your one and only at 17?

"Yes," I tell myself.

Preposterous.

But sometimes I don't know.

The way you talk about forever sometimes makes me wish it were so.

I really start to believe you.

And we aren't like them.

Not at all.

What we have is so...indescribable.

I really just can't imagine us going wrong.

I can't picture us fighting.

There would never be a taking for granted.

We're different.

But how many lost little girls have I heard that from?

"Sure you are," became my standard cynical reply.

Maybe I really didn't have the perspective to judge them.

This too shall probably blow up in my face.

But I just don't see it.

The way you are just makes me loose my sense.

...And I told them I wanted to fall in love...

Bliss

It wasn't this all-powerful thing it's always presented as. I didn't come out of it a different person. It didn't turn me into some lovesick puppy. My life was not transformed or even conceivably altered.

I was happy. Really happy. The happiest I can ever remember being. The second I was living it I completely forgot what I was ever worried about. Every discussion I'd had with anyone, any sage piece of wisdom they'd try to pass on from their mistakes - when it came down to it, the only thing that truly mattered was what was in my heart.

It's one of those things that can be generalized. It often is. People say "this is right" "that is wrong", but it's not like that. For every person it's different, and even then with every person it's different.

I've been told I lucked out. But for me, life right now is absolutely marvelous. :)