You are not who you once were

I know your heart’s beating out your chest again,

bone-china skeleton threatening to crack

tired lungs struggling to expand as they should.

I know you might always feel so


and scared

alone in the endless labyrinth of life

ghosts of your past waiting around every corner.

I know rain clouds gather beneath those heavy eyelids,

thunderstorms brew within the quintessence of the soul,

old wounds torn apart by saltwater, never really healing.

It know how much it all hurts

But darling,

remember you are not who you once were

you were thrown into the deep end,

and found a way to gasp for air.

disintegrated in the heat of the flames,

pulled yourself together

and walked through the fire

warrior in your very own might,

warrior in every right.

you have survived

over and over and over again.

claws for hands that will always hold onto the edge,

stubborn fragments of light that the darkest night cannot dissipate,

spirit & bravery etched into the heart of your being.

So every time the same saltwater storms threaten to pull you under,


you are a patchwork quilt of brash emotions and endless empathy

ray of sunshine that’s found it’s way to illuminate the prison walls

you are growing your own garden with seeds of compassion

born with the gift of unconditional love,

reborn through the ashes of the the flames.

it’s okay that you feel

sad and unloved,

same nightmares return to haunt your dreams

it’s okay that sometimes you can’t see the light,

and it’s okay to be terrified.

just remember,

you have walked through the storms

with an endless reservoir of courage

crystallising an understanding of the human condition

beauty through the cracks of brokenness and vulnerability.

you are not alone anymore,

and being scared simply means you get to do something really brave,

so don’t stay within the walls of the cages you were put into.

you are not who you once were,

be brave.


writing this at 5am in the hospital bed, waking up to tears and fears threatening to resurface as another flashback looms in the distance and bad memories leave an earthquake or a sour taste in my mouth and quiet pain in me. I am tired, I am always tired, I have been sad and scared and alone and tired all my life. catalog of painful moments that bleed into days and years. little girl abandoned and left behind and unloved and unworthy of anything at all. find solace from the relentless aching and backlog of years of unresolved pain.

how can there be so much shame in who you innately are and what you innately need? who drove this little girl to self destruction and taught her to hate herself? who taught her to deprive herself of food and nourishment and love, who taught her to shrink herself and starve her feelings?

I am trying so hard to keep going. So as I write this at 5am in the hospital bed, I remind myself I am not the same girl who was scared of her Mother at 5, or the girl who was terrified of her Father at 9, or the girl who was made fun of at 10, or the girl who wanted to kill herself at 11 because they wouldn’t stop screaming, or the girl who was left to hide alone in the toilet at 13, or the girl who tried to kill herself at 14 and 15, or even the girl who was adamant against recovery at 17.

I am not the same girl huddled up alone terrified of her parents, or the same girl carrying the weight of everything alone, or the same girl struggling to find a place in this world, or the same girl who tried to tear herself apart and was driven to sadness and self destruction for all these years.

The same pain and fears and thoughts threaten to drown me and take me back. But I am not who I once was. If we can survive pain, surely we can survive growth? If we can live with an unbearable self hatred for all those years, surely we can learn to love ourselves? If we can turn into warriors, surely we can find a way out of this?

-For little Ericia, and little Eunice



The irony of your safe haven

is found in the walls that keep away the very people and things you need

towers that shut the pain out while it festers into poison within

iron bars that numb the feelings away, it’s intensity burning you into disintegration when it resurfaces

Each brick sealed in concrete

safe haven turned into prison,

and prison turned into home.

You make do,

build a home with all that you have

walls to keep the pain away

anything for an escape

And now they say,

Restricting food is restricting life

Numbing pain is numbing joy

Somehow the war outside has turned into a war within

doors sealed shut as they try to break in,

clouds of whispering voices that blur your vision and mar your judgements,

each window slams right before you reach out

you’re exhausted but running is all you know, so you keep running

you can no longer stop, the wheel out of your control

prison bars presenting an illusion of safety and comfort, a facade of truths

The outside world is not safe, my dear, but neither is your safe haven.


Try as they might, they can never break these four walls, so please stop trying to tear me down. The key will always remain within, patiently waiting for the clock to strike. The time will be right, so let me let you in. Let me open this door and let me stay here for a while. Let me be.

Perhaps this is the pain of tearing apart everything you’ve ever known, the pain of being in the rubble of your destruction. I’ve told people- sometimes you need to break. Sometimes you need to let everything fall apart so you can rebuild. Sometimes you need to give up everything that’s kept you safe because it hurts you. Because walls build upon towers of false truths and false security and imposed aloneness. Numbers and weights and bodies and loneliness is easier than pain and feelings. Self-destruction so all the other pain hurts less. What are we running from? Perhaps we all have to face these demons at some point. Let them tear you apart. Let it hurt. Let the walls stay down and put your trust into the hands of those who care. Let it hurt. Comb through the rubble, walk through it one step at a time. Retreat into prison because it still feels like home. That’s okay. Stay for a bit. It’s been home for years, it’s a safe haven, a place away from the fears- honour that. Stay for a bit, but not for long. The irony of your safe haven is how it’s turned on you, keeping away everything that saves you and leaving self-destruction and brand new monsters. The war is inside now. It’s going to hurt. Let it hurt.

I’ve cried though the night but the sun is rising and I see the orange and purple skies outside the bars of these windows. Maybe we can rebuild.

Safe and Sound

There’s something about the calm before the storm

the way it feels before

you know everything is going to end

and the world before your eyes

will cease to be.


I remember tears streaming down your face,

when I said I’d never let you go

When all those shadows almost killed your light

I remember you said,

don’t leave me here alone

But all that’s dead and gone and passed, tonight

It’s quiet here.

This endless silence as I stand here alone in the midnight fields

wind in my hair

round orb of a full moon glowing faintly

crickets chirping softly as the mist thickens

It’s beautiful.

so peaceful,

I want to stay forever

A place where

Pain has no home

Where wildflowers grow through the cracks of the broken stones

children are never lost

And fairy dust is found in the quiet crevices instead of dusty bones

Where I sit on the dewy grass weaving dreams into the threads of a flower crown as the pixies gather up the shards of glass

There is solace is the gentle midnight air

Soft moonlit glow

As I look up into the vast canvas of twinkling stars

I am home

Where waves tickle the spaces between your toes

Instead of threatening to pull you under

And constellations marry to form adventure maps that take you home.

only the bravest dare enter

and This little girl

Is home

She curls up underneath a large willow tree

Bed of moss

strewn spiderwebs

wilted petals

Draw the stars a little closer to her heart

Little fingers clutching the magic spells

Say the words to make them disappear.

Here, there is no room for big bad people or the big scary world or things that leave her scared and alone

Here, fairies are always out to play and the stardust, an arm’s reach away

The last tear escapes,

sliding past a tear stained cheek

Falling onto a fresh willow leaf as it melts away

This little girl is weary

Much too weary from a battlefield she could never navigate

Much too weary from the weight of the world she could never carry

Her white dress weathered from the waves that have drowned her over and over

Tentacles of the creatures of the ocean threatening to keep her under

Holding tight in her arms the stolen treasure map to a childhood she never had

pirates relentlessly chasing the broken pieces of the sapphire heart she has left

Blistered feet worn and bleeding from the miles she’s had to run through the darkness of the woods

Ghosts of the past always close behind

So she curls up underneath the large willow tree

It’s so peaceful here

A place where pain has no home

Fairies stitching together a safety blanket made of dreams and wishes on a star and the magic of believing

The shadow monsters can’t get her here

Not anymore

Her tired little eyelids flutter as she struggles to succumb to slumber

Willow leaves spiralled around her

The gentle breeze whispers a quiet lullaby

She is weary

Let her sleep.

Just close your eyes,

the sun is going down

You’ll be alright,

no one can hurt you now

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be

safe and sound

it’s always night-time here

when the shadow creatures emerge from their hiding places in the dark

grip of curved black talons suffocating a heavy chest

midnight mist silently sweeping over the maze of neurons, blurring it all

visceral pain slices through flesh

threatening to split the soul


author’s note: for reference, this was written with a flashback in mind, how it all feels. shadow creatures = nightmares and memories, black talons = suffocating anxiety, midnight mist = dissociation.


I feel like

one bite of food,

and I will implode.

Pieces of me


in the crevices,

in the dark.

I can only pick up the pieces and put myself together so many times

// each worn scrap held together by cheap stitches that thin and stretch and threaten to break

every tear stained cheek,

every clenched fist,

every strain of the heart,

every breath of exhaustion,

tugs the stitches further and further


so don’t blame me

for holding onto control

an iron heart

bones of steel



I am holding these pieces together.


and I thought this to myself, this morning on the treadmill, running and running despite the slowly numbing feet and pains on the right of my chest, left of my abdomen. burn what you ate yesterday.

and I thought this to myself, this afternoon on my bed, exhausted from doing nothing at all, wrapped up in a blanket from the constant cold. standing up would mean the world spinning around.

and I thought this to myself, as I heard my stomach rumble.. again. as I ponder the possibility of food for tomorrow, wondering if I need it to get through my presentation. but you cannot eat or you will lose control.

And that terrifies me. One bite, and I might just break.



This sadness is not familiar

Not the soothing numbness of the waves

or the tide that pulls me down

This sadness is

Born out of the embers

of fires once ignited

This sadness is

the scorching flame

blazing everything in its path


and they say a Phoenix rises from the ash.

It doesn’t feel that way.

It feels like pain.

and they yell at me for saying sorry.

And it is now that I realise,

after all these years,

the thoughts that run through my head

remain the same.

same reel of thoughts

every time he gets angry

every time they look at me that way

every time I feel so


and sad.

I’m sorry

I’m sorry for existing

Sorry for being me

I’m sorry

I don’t know what I did

But I’m sorry for what I did

Sorry for saying anything, doing anything, feeling anything.

It’s my fault

It’s all my fault

I’m sorry

Please just go away

I want it all to go away

The feelings, the yelling


And helplessness

The overwhelming


Please just stop

I’m sorry, really, I’m really really sorry


don’t be angry

I promise to be good

I’m sorry

But the one thought I never realised

was there

Please don’t hurt me


I’m sorry.


I seem to revert to this exact same set of thoughts every time, usually when something triggers it, like when my dad gets angry again, and in the midst of my anxiety I just become a child again, the way I speak- the things I said. Even my voice changes to that of a small child. It surprised me when it happened and still surprises me now, that I would end up in that state. That when he yells, I turn into this.. fearful child again? And all I do is apologise over and over again. I’ve always known that I always get bad anxiety and panic attacks when people yell or get angry, and I know that’s because of my dad but I didn’t realise this thought process is also something that happens a lot. I’m assuming it was something I learned I was younger, and then it became ingrained in me. I suppose that’s why I also feel so.. unworthy. Empty. I suppose that’s why I feel like I’m a mistake, because all my life I’ve learned to apologise. And the worst part, is when they start yelling at you for saying sorry and I don’t know what else to say but I am sorry. I am sorry for everything.

who are you, now?

when reality seeps through

the gaps between your fingertips,

pain quickly eroding the solid ground,

two feet on cold glass

and a number staring up at you

is all you can run back to


when reality seeps through

the gaps between your fingertips,

nothing is what is seems

what it seems isn’t what it was

where is my safe haven now?


when you question all that you feel, all that you are. when memories lie and your head spins. when nothing seems to matter and everything doesn’t seem right. where love is pain and pain is anger. where little girls cry alone. and big girls cry alone.

none of this matters, you’re just making it up // your pain isn’t real, stop pretending it was more than it is // you’re not really sick, are you? how dare you claim it was trauma or abuse or ptsd // what is wrong with you? // i hate you // worthless and useless and good for nothing // perhaps it’s all your fault, you’re the problem // go ahead and self-destruct.

More broken pieces 

After all that I’ve been through,

all that I’ve had to do

to survive,

to get better. 

I am still broken. 

I am still broken. 

I am still broken.

With tear-stained cheeks and an aching heart

looking at the pieces of me

laid out once again,

I thought I was healing.

I thought I was growing. 

I thought the worst pain was over.

But I was wrong,

and I am broken

perhaps much more than I ever thought so,

I am broken. 

And somehow, at the back of my mind

the whisper remains 

‘what if it’s your fault? what if it’s you?’


And it’s hard to be so broken, hard to be in so much pain, hard that it’s what my life has been defined by. Pain. It’s hard to be anything beautiful when you are constructed from pain. It’s hard to be so broken and not believe you are inherently so- broken, faulty, unworthy. It’s hard to be so broken and ever believe you could be anything else. 

I wrote tonight. I am so damn sad and yet I still can’t seem to let myself cry. I am sad I cannot recover. I am sad everything is so difficult. I am sad because I feel so helpless, transported back to the times when I was younger. I hate feeling helpless and out of control. I am sad because I have been though so much pain and I don’t know how to heal. I am sad because I am so broken and I don’t want to admit I am broken. I don’t want to admit I have been through what I have been through and that it hurt. That my entire childhood hurt, that it still hurts. I don’t want to be broken, dammit. I am sad because I don’t know how to find myself again. I’ve talked about it now, opened up the can of worms and memories and pain, let myself remember the things I’ve blocked out for years, what if that was a mistake? What if somehow everything is my fault. Like I could have done something, anything to stop what happened? I hate these memories so much. I want out. I am so sad. (At least I am finally crying)

After all I’ve been through.. after how awful and inadequate I felt when I was younger in school, after going through the worst of my depression and surviving the pits of hell, after suicide attempts and self harm, after working through memories of him hitting me, after working through memories of the sexual assault, after working through thoughts and beliefs and 5 years of therapy.. I just didn’t think there would be more, I thought I knew most everything about myself. But there was more and I am just tired. I am tired because I’ve worked to put myself together time and time again, even if it was just filmsy tape that held me together- it held me together. But I am broken from the inside and perhaps nothing will fix that. I am broken from the inside and maybe I am just too broken. I don’t know where to even begin to heal. I have problems. I have so many problems. It’s like life just keeps hurling these curveballs at me and you know how I am with sports (awful). It’s like life is just this ball game and I’m trapped in it, barely playing, struggling to stumble my way through while the balls keep flying at me one after the other. The ironic part is that I have been struggling, that I am struggling because I am in the process of recovery. That I am talking about this in the process of recovery. It’s easier to run to the coping skills that I’ve always held on to. Escaping, pushing my feelings away, pushing everyone away, avoiding everything including myself, restrict to have control, binge and purge to numb the feelings, self harm to feel better. Destruct. Self-destruct. It’s easier but it’s not what I am doing anymore. That is a step, I suppose.