Volume 1: From doormat… to FUCK that…

So, this is something new that I am doing for 2018….

I realize that I never just talk (well write) to my readers. I have been doing this for almost a year now and I never just wrote anything in a non poetic fashion… I keep it “real” with my poems… but I have never spoke to you all as myself.

That changes today… I welcome you all to my Closet….

NO.. This is not about fashion… or what I am wearing today. This is more about where my skeletons are, the ones that I write about in my poems. I guess you can look at this as a behind the scenes of the Poetic Rants that you all love so much.

Here goes nothing…

Something inside of me broke last year. Or maybe, the cup of bullshit that I was unnecessarily accepting for so long had finally runneth over. So maybe something inside of me became corrected. Whatever happened… the one-sided relationships just were not working for me anymore… being a doormat so I can have people in my life became a knife in my heart. I was no longer content living for everyone else.

I remember being the person to always accept harsh criticism quietly from people who needed to feel better about themselves, and then going to bed at night feeling horrible about myself… Then, one day… I just told someone to fuck off. I brought to light every little thing that needed to be corrected in their life. I told them to never come for me again… I lost a friend that day!

I used to struggle SO hard in college… I hated it. I hated not having a life, and not seeing my children… I was attending school and becoming a science major and I FUCKING HATE SCIENCE AND MATH…. I remember telling my family I didn’t want to go back to college after chemo… And not giving a fuck about how anyone felt after it… I remember telling them that my passion is in another place… I want to write… thats what I want to do…

That didn’t go over so well…

So here I am writing… and I can count on one hand who in my personal life is actively supporting what I do, even after I spent years supporting EVERY one of my family and friends ventures… showing up to their events… helping them through life.

And you know what’s fucked up? At this point… reading my writing is FREE… it is also accessible on any device that one may have… and most people in my life spend the majority of their time online anyway. Yet, none of them support my blog.

When this realization hit me, I felt so alone. I felt insecure about my writing and about myself as a whole. But now I am realizing that I am not the problem. I never was the problem.

My only problem is that I didn’t require people in my life to be what I needed due to the fact that I was scared to lose them.

Have you ever seen a doormat become a door? Fuck no…

I had to realize that due to ME allowing myself to be used and abused by my so called friends… they could never see me as anything but a doormat… and sadly once you allow yourself to be a doormat… you can never be seen to those who stepped on you as more than that…

Fuck them!

Though there is comfort in being surrounded by people who are familiar… I had to say fuck comfort if those people aren’t shit. For a second I had to say fuck people all together. This was key to my healing because I needed to love myself. I couldn’t require love if I didn’t love myself…

It’s a new year guys… its time for a fresh start. Don’t spend this year losing yourself in everyone’s shit.  If you start loving and supporting yourself and people have a problem with it? It simply means you need to surround yourself with better people.

Thank you for reading! Tell me what you think! And if you have questions for me and would like to get in the closet with me, let me know!!


11 thoughts on “Volume 1: From doormat… to FUCK that…

  1. DivaNamedDom says:

    This resonates with me so much. I know a lot of people who think that questioning traditional patriarchy roles is silly and little girls should play with “girl’s toys” and little boys should play with “boy’s toys,” but it’s harmful. Little girls are raised to sacrifice to their baby dolls, put everyone before themselves through their house chores, and their ultimate life goal is to marry and have children. If we spend our entire lives giving, and everyone around us spends their entire lives receiving, how do we get replenished?

    The duality of letting one sided relationships go is assuming the responsibility that we’ve allowed this to happen and encouraged it for so long. I think that’s what is so satisfying about your writing; it’s not woe-is-me prose, rather, a well rounded narrative of healing. When we are hurt, yes, we are victims but we also can better equip ourselves by learning what our roles were in what happened to us.

    Thank you for doing the soul work and sharing your journey along the way. It’s many of us out here trying to heal, trying to break generational karma, slowing down and trying to understand how we impact the world through our own selves.


    Liked by 2 people

  2. Dom the Blogger says:

    Thank you Dom!!!! I find SO much peace in realization! And peace is to beautiful not to share! I believe in the saying that may elders always told me “No success or fail is new under the sun… just a new person experiencing it!” My whole blog and brand is off helping people not feel ALONE.

    We are in a time where everyone is pretending to be perfect… so many are living behind a mask (I did too for years).. and going to bed with so much on our hearts….

    my hope with this new series is to break that pressure… I hope it reaches more women and men that need to know it is okay to admit that you aren’t perfect… sometimes you’re not even good… as long as you dont STAY there you are still redeemable. As long as you’re breathing it isn’t too late 🙂

    I love hearing from you!


  3. braveandrecklessblog says:

    I was reminded recently of something my late aunt taught me: life is too short to waste time on things or people that drag you down or bore you. It was very liberating to hold those words again. Very few of my family members or local friends read or support my writing. Its like some piece of me that is incongruous and that they can’t reconcile with their long held image of me. It is both demoralizing and freeing to know that they don’t read my writing.


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