Today I took a shower at the YMCA. It was nice and clean, much better than the shelter showers. I still can't speak. I'm struggling not to cry at every moment. I think of my sweet Abby and I miss her so. But I'm grateful she doesn't know this life. I'm waiting for someone to leave the bathroom before I come out of the stall. I don't want to be around anyone but i have no privacy except a public bathroom. Which is far from private. But it's here i mourn the loss of my family, the loss of my boyfriend, the loss of my art materials and every other sentimental belonging, the loss of my bedroom's comfort in a home that made me feel othered. I felt no peace there. I was sheltered, but made worse daily with heartbreak wrapped in a thin coating of sugar like a sweet and sour candy. It was never home. The abuse always came without warning. I chose the discomfort of homelessness to finally start to heal the broken pieces of my heart, but in this in between place, the work needed leaves me gasping for air, trapped by the weight of it all and no where to find solace and peace amongst all the noise. So much noise. I hope to find my voice again soon.

How’s everyone holding up?

As the great philosopher Rebecca Black once said: “Gotta get down on Friday” So let’s get down to get up! This joke went south fast! SHARE SOMETHING THAT BEINGS YOU JOY! (Please…respectfully)

Hello friends! Apologies for the hiatus, but burnout was hitting me HARD. How’s everyone holding up? Is there anything I can do to help you today?

Found this recently, it seems helpful so far to me, so I thought I'd share it with all of you too. https://www.newpathfamily.com/nd-brain?utm_source=Insta&utm_medium=NDBrain&utm_campaign=always-on&utm_content=NDBrain&utm_term=michelle&fbclid=PAb21jcASv4-5leHRuA2FlbQIxMQBzcnRjBmFwcF9pZA81NjcwNjczNDMzNTI0MjcAAacPxHcIkgT-00II_f7VAiUMcEi7QPAQ7cOLTQduRmWybxSO1uM_obg_WQBK-w_aem_NVuV6ONVSY3bVPiN1YQ4Dw