JhonRae's Blog

I am a puppet and you are my master. I am a jester for your entertainment. I am your toy to play with as you wish. I am your barbie doll to tell me how to look. I am naive for you to teach me. I am weak for you to look strong. I am invisible for you to be seen. I am your fetish for you to feel secure. I am your trophy to prove status. I am vulnerable, for you to look like my savior.   This poem is inspired by accumulation of men I have met throughout my life and their perception of me in the context of how they want me to make them feel. In all reality I am none of these things. As Dolly Parton quoted “all these years, people think the joke has been on me, but it’s actually been on the public.”

 Oh, you are so pretty! Oh, your make-up! Oh, your hair! Oh, your curves! Oh, your smile! Oh, you look young! Oh, you have good genes! Oh, darling, my features remind me of a family that rejected me. Oh, darling my make-up is a way for me to escape from the ugliness I see. Oh, darling my hair is thinning because I can’t stop the stress. Oh, darling my curves are reminders of failed pregnancies. Oh, darling I am chasing youth that is compromising my mental wellbeing. Oh, darling I don’t think you realize what you’re saying. I am chronically ill.

Knock, knock. Me: What are you doing here Death? Death: I came here because I saw you put in an application a while ago. I wanted to interview to see if you qualify. Me: Qualify for what? A choice to die? Death: Yes, because I need to know you are competent, you have references and if anyone objects. Me: Oh, I’ve had many months to think about this. Why do I need references? Why would it matter if anyone objects? Isn’t it my choice in the end (pun not intended.) Death: Sometimes when you ponder something too long your perception becomes distorted. I want references to vouch for you to state that you are suffering enough to justify coming with me. I need to see if anyone objects because don’t you think their opinion matters? Me: This is dumb. Of course, people are going to object because they are pro-life and selfish to watch me suffer without trying to support me. No one has reached out to just give me money without wanting something in return. No one has asked me what I ...

Panic settles in as if we are good friends. Depression hovers over like a cloud thinking its covering me. Yet, it is suffocating. Shame is making itself known. Seeping through my words as I am desperately trying to convey my worth. Fear is next to me knocking down everything I thought I built. Tearing it all down effortlessly. Sadness is always behind me waiting to be triggered despite the desperate plea of trying to save myself.

We are bonded by blood. We are bonded by a shared history. We are bonded by ever changing dynamics. Stop. That’s where the bond ended. We are not bonded by mutual acceptance and choice to be sisters. We are not bonded by our present or future together. We are not bonded by respect, love, compassion, empathy but rather ever-changing chaos. Stop. This is where my personal story keeps going. I am bonded by my own inner being to be able to safely look inward. I am bonded by my personal experiences and perceptions of who I was, who I am and who I will become. I am bonded by my ever-changing curiosity about myself, family, friends, and acquaintances. Persist, full stop.

You know the other day I wrote in excitement about how my older sister has possibly changed. Well, I am not going to shame or feel dumb for falling for it. What I wrote was sincere, passionate, hopeful and full of acceptance and love. The other day my nephew called me for the first time concerned about his mom (my sister). He told me what was happening and I drove to them without a second thought. This is what I found out from a few different family members about my sister’s current state of mind. She has not ever been to therapy, she does still drink, smokes, and apparently does take pills not as prescribed. She also is losing any form of connection with all her kids. My niece and I sat down for a while and she told me some horrifying things she is saying and doing while also showing me pictures. Then I spoke to the kid’s dad, and he is fed up with her as well. I don’t blame any of them. My sister has never been “right” in the head for as long as I could remember. Despite all the ...

Are you hard working?  Not enough. Do you have good communication skills? Not enough. Do you have the ability to adapt and possess problem-solving skills? Not enough. Do you have experience? Not enough. Do you have a degree? Not enough. Do you know about trauma informed care? Not enough. What do I know? I know I continue to self-reflect and work on myself even when it’s hard. I know I communicate effectively while knowing that we can disagree and still be professional. I know I continuously have adapted to hard and unpredictable situations personally and professionally. I know I have my master’s degree and I'm a continuous learner. I know that I continuously learn to navigate my own trauma and keep working on myself while learning how to ground myself when I feel like I am fading away. I may not be the “ideal” candidate or interviewee in an interviewer’s eyes. However, I like to think that what I do know is important. What I have experienced is important. Wh...

Today my eldest sister reached out to me, and I didn’t hesitate to be there. We spoke for four long but good hours over the phone. I noticed a few changes in her that makes me so proud. She acknowledged the hurt she caused without me asking her to. Then she said “I am unstable and I can’t promise if I step out of line at times, but I would like you to tell me nicely when I do. It may take me time to realize it.” That is mothering fucking growth that I knew she was capable of! She's been sober for a few years now and realizes if she even drinks one beer she doesn’t feel right. It sounds to me she is finally working on herself despite health complications she's going through. She has continuously been in therapy for some time, and it sounds like she isn’t quitting on herself. I am so proud of her even if she doesn’t feel great right now. I had the privilege and honor to hear my sister again for who I always hoped and knew she could be. I know it’s going to be a bit chaotic re...

You know I go back and re-read my posts and realize continuous grammar errors. Despite me looking over them, multiple times before posting. Within my writing it exposes my learning difficulties while also expressing my humanity and life experiences. I hope this gives others hope and encouragement that you don’t need to fit in a “box” of any kind to be authentically you. You know if you actually listen to me speak, I tend to struggle with what is called spoonerisms. It’s a speech error that I unintentionally switch words, phrases and vowels around. Sometimes I don’t even realize I do it unless someone points it out to me. I like to write more because I can mindfully (for the most part) catch the errors and express myself in the way that I like to.

Someone posted this saying in a group that I follow. “The deepest pain is not losing someone, it’s realizing they never feared losing you.” This resonated with me deeply and profoundly. To me it speaks to people you thought loved and supported you while they have lacked the ability to see “value” or “worth” in who you are. Causing them to not fear losing you because they didn’t see your worth or value in the first place. Whether this applies to family, friends, romance, or otherwise. I want to preface that rejection isn’t about your actual value or worth but rather the inability to see who you are in all your complexities. I did post this on my social media but modified it to "protect" the ones that may contest to what I am speaking to. Funny, but in my past some of my foster parents encouraged me to write a book about my experiences. To be completely honest they wouldn't like half the things I have to say just as much as my actual family. People like to live blissf...

I’ve been struggling for months now and last night I had my cat Kitty visit me in my dream. She laid right next to me and we cuddled. I could hear, feel and smell her like she was next to me. I just sobbed while holding her and then I woke up with tears running down my face. I like to believe she came to comfort me in a time that I’ve been struggling with suicidal ideation. Also, the last few days prior to the dream I’ve had other things that could have been a sign that even my mom is telling me she is with me. Friday, Kiss from a Rose was the first song that played when I got home. Then Saturday I was at a restaurant in such a bad mood, but someone kept calling the name Linda. Linda was my mother’s name. Admittingly, I have been struggling with darker thoughts that seem to consume me more and more. I like to believe these are signs to let me know to keep moving on and don’t give up. I don’t understand what lessons I am supposed to learn in all this. I feel every emotion possible a...

I don’t need to hide from my past or eliminate my “baggage” to make someone else feel comfortable. I know who I am. I don’t need to be younger to prove my worth or to “fit” a mold or an idea. I don’t need to be able to bare children to pass down what I have learned. I want and deserve to be the imagined version that doesn’t have limitations, history, age, or difficult realities. Underneath it all is the lack of capacity to be curious, compassionate, and understanding. Whether it was intentional or unintentional. All that being said, any women feeling like you are not enough; I am here to say you are.

I needed words of affirmation. You spoke to my wounds. I needed to hear “I’m sorry” without excuses. You spoke to my wounds. I needed to see accountability without projection. You spoke to my wounds. I needed to see initiative to build safety and trust. You spoke to my wounds. I needed to be heard without pushing back. You spoke to my wounds. I needed validation to feel accepted. You spoke to my wounds. I needed empathy without judgement. You spoke to my wounds. I needed to hear you. Instead, I experienced defensiveness. You spoke to my wounds. My internal experiences are no one else’s to bare but my own. What wounds do you carry?  

To build a healthy foundation for any relationship such as family, friends or romance you need open communication, trust, mutual respect and the ability to build emotional safety. Open communication is about sharing thoughts and feelings without the fear of judgement. Trust is to have faith that individual is honest and sincere with their intentions and has your back. Mutual respect is setting boundaries, supporting each other’s opinions and perspectives while honoring and working through differences. Emotional safety is becoming vulnerable by opening up about fears, mistakes, rejection, judgement, stigma, and past hurt. As I continuously reflect on who I am and what I want in life I realize I don’t always apply these qualities to myself. I’ve lost faith in who I want to be. Lost trust in my abilities to overcome certain challenges. Rejecting different aspects of myself, and judging my past, present and future self. All parts of self-doubt that can be all consuming. I haven’t built...