Even when the advice is sound, it’s always easier to give than to take

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Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

I’ve been putting off my annual physical. I only rescheduled it once, convincing myself I did it because the virus was skyrocketing in our area.
But if I’m being honest, I knew deep down this wasn’t the reason for avoiding this appointment. I felt overwhelmed with paralyzing anxiety.

I wasn’t nearly as worried as I should have been that they’d find cancerous cells again, and my anxiety wasn’t spiking because of possibly being exposed to coronavirus in my doctor’s office.

No. I felt paralyzed because I know I’ve gained weight and the shame I feel about that overwhelms me. That shame then fuels my anxiety. I start thinking about all the times I could have been ‘stronger’ or if I wasn’t so ‘damaged’, I could be in control of my mind, my emotions, and my actions. …


After living in fight or flight mode for over a decade, the aftermath wasn’t as peaceful as I anticipated

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Photo by Mateus Campos Felipe on Unsplash

It’s been a long day. Work was hell, and the day dragged on forever. You cleaned up the disaster in your house, and you finally are getting the opportunity to unwind with your favorite book and a generous glass of wine.

You wait for the calm and relaxation to wash over you, but it never comes. In its place, you’re agitated, unsettled, and anxious. You feel your pulse in your ears, the silence is deafening, and you physically tense up, unconsciously forming a fist.

You’re on the verge of a full-blown panic attack — for no reason what so ever.

Welcome to what life feels like after leaving an abusive relationship.


Once again, society is focusing on all the wrong things about Rebel Wilson’s weight-loss journey

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Photo Credit to Daily Mail UK

Growing up in a family that lived on Roger and Hammerstein, I was super excited about a series of more current musical films I could share with my daughters. In the Pitch Perfect movies, actress Rebel Wilson plays a witty, sarcastic, don’t-give-a-f**k, loveable character — Fat Amy.

My family owns all three of the Pitch Perfect movies and jam out to their soundtracks on a regular basis. Whenever we watch the films, my daughters like to pretend to be the characters, and every time we end up in the same argument.

‘I want to be Beca, you be Fat Amy.’
‘No, I don’t want to be Fat Amy, I want to be Beca.’ …


A Poem on Healing

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Photo by Ava Sol on Unsplash

Touch me
with your words.
Caress my soul,
soothe this pain.

Touch me
with your empathy.
Inability to understand
is of no consequence,
when you accept
me for who I am.

Touch me
without making
physical contact.

Take no offense
when I shy away.

The last person
to touch me,
embedded this
sorrow — left scars
and bruises that
never faded
never healed

If you touch those
parts of me, there
is no guarantee
the wounds won’t
reopen.

I can feel you
unintentionally
burrowing into these
scars. …


Know Yourself #30

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Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

It’s been a while since I’ve written for fun and enjoyment, and this prompt serves as the perfect catalyst for such an occasion. I apologize in advance, I didn’t anticipate this being so long. Alas, take me as I am.

List five ways in which you are, after all, quite difficult to live with.

5. I often refer to historical figures from centuries ago, expecting you to know exactly who they are and why I’m referring to them.

You don’t understand why Catherine De Medici was truly misunderstood and not just a woman with a knack for poison? Did I name my Toyota Highlander Mary Queen of Scots — of course. If this surprises you, do you really know me at all?

Aside from the fact that I am an aspiring Historical Fiction author, I also enjoy a good historical fiction read. That’s a lie, I love historical fiction, and the characters… probably more than you, even if we’re in a relationship where we live together. …


A Poem

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Photo by Yoann Boyer on Unsplash

Longing for sleep, a sweet surrender
leaving all the chaos and pain
of the day behind.
Instead, fearing the dark locked
doors inside my mind.

When will I feel rested?

If you enjoyed this, please consider —


A Poetic Stream of Consciousness

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Photo by Tiago Bandeira on Unsplash

You will never be mine, not really
No matter how I try and convince myself otherwise
No matter how many moments we steal, or touches we share
Regardless of how happy I know I could make you

You will never be mine, not truly
The more intensely I feel for you, the stronger your gravity pulls me in,
But the truth remains, the distance between us, won’t sustain this,
Watch me float away, always reaching for you, just out of my grasp

You will never be mine, not in the way I want you
When I say I love you, the words don’t do my emotion justice
I don’t doubt your response, on some level I’m sure you mean it, yet
you hold back, I don’t blame you — I wouldn’t love me if I were…


A Poem

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Photo by zelle duda on Unsplash

Time stands still, and yet
races at the pace of
the heart beating out
of my chest, put your
hands on me, can
you feel it?

Heat rises — you can’t
breathe, but why would you?
When desire overwhelms
with each touch,
every embrace

Sit and stare — searing
you into my memory
— fingertips tracing
your outline, savoring
even the edge of your lips,
the textured twists
of your hair

Always holding space
for you — leave your mark
upon my lips, and nose —
Your grip makes me feel
like a woman again

Wrap myself up in you,
never forget how this
moment feels — until I
see you again

A collection of moments
made into a lifetime

If you enjoyed this, please consider —


A Poem on Mental Health

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Photo by Zohre Nemati on Unsplash

I never understood
why a creative would
put their art before
their mental health
but now I do —
they just want
to feel themselves

Medication provides
consistency —
simultaneously
stifling my
creativity — there
is no way I could do
without these
small white pills
I’ve tried

Creative expression
keeps me high, but when
it leaves, I feel like dying,
always lying — I’m okay,
that I feel stable,
only because I refuse
to admit defeat
to my chemical
imbalance

It comes to me
in flashes,
flashbacks
traumas I’ve never felt,
when I’m unhinged I
feel it all —
everything makes me feel
small — so small in fact
I disappear just like that
into abysmal darkness


Micropoetry

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Photo by Christian Holzinger on Unsplash

You said you would take away my children
But I only threw things at you

You said I was worthless
But I didn’t hit you

You said I was a waste of a life
But I didn’t bruise you

You said I should end my life
But I never laid a hand on you

They asked me,
Who have you become?

Everything he told me I was

I’ve been in a terrible habit as of late, re-reading entries in old journals.
Verbal and emotional abuse is still abuse — your trauma is no less, just because it couldn’t physically be seen. For my fellow survivors, you will never forget, but you can move forward and forge a beautiful life in spite of your trauma.
For anyone affected by abuse and needing support, call 1–800–799–7233, or if you’re unable to speak safely, you can log onto the hotline.org

About

Estrella Ramirez

Coffee fanatic, with a dramatic inner dialogue — a poet and Historical fiction enthusiast, longing for a time that’s gone — an old soul — Writer of fiction

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