But, I'm Fine.

In the last 12 months I’ve lost so much. We all have. But I'm gonna talk about me right now.

The first time I started thinking all these things was right after I had my daughter. Postpartum depression is real. But I’ve always had depression. There were days when my daughter, new to this cold world, would cry and cry...and cry. And I'd be somewhere in a closet and cry and cry...and cry with her. I felt like a bad mother. I still think I am a bad mother.

But I’m fine.

My child’s father and love of my life left me for another woman. He moved me out and moved her in like a change of furniture. They started a family almost immediately. Now my daughter has a sister. And a stepmother. She wears a ring on her left ring finger. He put that on her faster than I can count to 2. That’s all I ever wanted, but I guess I was inadequate.

But I’m fine.

I met a guy. He was so good to me. We had some good times that were always overshadowed by the bad. He got me so wrapped up in my feelings. Feelings? I didn’t even know I still had those. He used me. He took advantage of my weakness. Preyed on my vulnerability. And when I went from that shiny new toy to that dull used thing that accumulated that layer of dust over a period of time. I just wasn’t enough anymore. Unforgettable. Unlovable. Damaged.

But I’m fine.

Let’s rewind to when I was a child. My mom didn’t know and I was too afraid to tell her. That caregiver she trusted so much to care for me, didn’t care at all. Thrown down the stairs like trash you can’t bare the weight of. Disposable. Molested by that vile woman’s brother whose breath always smelled like a bottle of Gin. Now as an adult I can’t seem to fill that void he dug in me so many years ago. Suicidal. Please kill me.

Pour bleach on my brain so I forget.

Raped as a child and adult.

What am I worth?

When I spaz out I’m crazy. I’m psycho. I’m a disappointment.

But it’s all good.

I’m fine."

- Stephanie A.