Daily Reprieve

Daily Reprieve

 

 

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Image: pgurvrn.uhostfull.com

 

This is just a short blurb because it is Friday and it is a holiday weekend (Thank a Vet!) and I have a lot of serious editing and finalizing a novel to do over the three day weekend… mark my words, I will be a national best-selling author.

Usually, a reprieve is saved for things like religion and prison.

But every day I have to give myself a reprieve. I am a human being and while I desperately do my due diligence to be the best human on the planet, I at times falter.

And while some fuckups are not forgivable, some need to be because, hey… shit happens.

So if you’ve done something that you aren’t proud of and when you really pick it apart, that demon is nestled in your brain whispering awful things to you… you have to figure out a way to get in front of that and let it go. You need to forgive yourself. That demon needs to be smothered for good.

I held onto my demons for many years, beat the hell out of myself in every way (mentally, emotionally, spiritually, physically) and at the end of the day, I was still an empty shell of self-loathing. And I was not getting any better.

I can’t really tell you how to get to the point of giving yourself a reprieve… but if you’re sitting in a self-inflicted hell right now, it might be something to take a look at…

Self-loathing leads to terrible roads, and sometimes when we get lost on those roads, there is no way to get back. Don’t travel into that dark abyss too far… figure it out and find the light.  There is always light somewhere…

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Surviving Can Be Sad

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(Warning: language and sexual reference)

Morning came as the sun beamed through the vertical blinds like it had something to say. Celeste rolled over and covered her face with the over-stuffed pillow next to her. She smiled as she thought about last night. Her smile faded, remembering the conversation Jack had started with her; the conversation she wanted to finish.

“No way,” Celeste whispered to herself as she crawled out of bed and walked over to the wet bar. She opened the refrigerator to see a note taped to a bottle of vodka.

Good morning, sunshine, Sorry I had to cut out early. Meeting. Here is a gift for you. There is money in the nightstand drawer. See you Thursday? My love, Jackie.

Celeste twisted the cap off of the vodka and threw it at the mirror on the adjacent wall. She schlepped over to the nightstand and slid the drawer open.

There was a pink envelope inside; the flap tucked in. Two thousand dollars. She would give Spitz a grand to keep him quiet for a while. She dropped the envelope on the nightstand and chugged two shots of vodka.

It’s unbelievable what you do to survive, Celly. She thought to herself.

Celeste plopped on the bed, pulled her panties to the side and fingered herself while she closed her eyes and thought of a random dark-haired man. Jack crept into her head along with the conversation from last night. Her stomach flip-flopped as she ran to the bathroom, both her hands over her mouth. She made it to the toilet and puked.

She looked hard at herself in the mirror behind the sink.

“Hunny, there is an explanation for this. There has got to be another dancer named Janice. God has a sense of humor, sure. But he ain’t no sick fuck, is he? No way have you been banging your daddy.”

She scooped the money up, got dressed and threw the key on the bed. It was time to go get some answers.

*excerpt from a novel written in 2011

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/survive/

Last Impression

 

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/impression/
©  2017 DAMSteelman

 

When I was younger, I had the impression that I really mattered and I’d grow up to be a five-star lawyer living in New Hope, PA with a cat and four sports cars (or a sports car and four cats).

When I was naive, I had the impression that I sort of mattered and that my husband loved me and that we’d build a great home with a wonderful family and grow old together.

When I was broken, I had the impression that I didn’t matter and that my life was a trainwreck because of everyone else including that abusive husband from all those years ago.

When I became hopeful, I got the impression that I was worth saving… maybe.

When I became determined, I got the impression that with hard work and determination, I could trudge forward and still live my dream.

When I became confident, I got the impression that I woke up today with eleven years clean and sober and that anything is possible. I am married to an amazing man and am going after my dreams.

I now have the impression that I am an amazing human being capable of anything.

Do what it takes and do it well.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/impression/

Waking Darkness

darkness before dawn
Image: hal-pc.org

Stuffed down in the dark, cobwebbed dirt

That’s where I bury the pain, loss and hurt,

I’ll never be that version of me again

Sometimes it’s easier to let the demons win,

Don’t you worry your pretty little head

There’s more than one way for us to be dead,

Sure I’m breathing but am I truly alive

It’s just an adaptation of conscious suicide,

Some days are a struggle from my first waking breath

And it’s all I can do not to hate myself to death…

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/final/

Daily Post: Reflecting

Reflecting

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How much reflecting can I really do? The number of people I have lost in my life to suicide is staggering. The number of strangers I’ve lost just the same. Sure, I never knew Chris Cornell, Prince, Kurt… any of them personally. But so what? They shared their deepest feelings with me. They bared their broken and bloody souls and I screamed back, cried back, roared back “I hear you. I get it. I feel the same way.”

But their pain was their pain and my pain is my pain. We never really know what someone is truly going through.

R.I.P.