My thoughts

the year 
i became a number
and a face
everyone recognized
but no one knew
not even me
who knew less
than nothing
of the woman
buried inside

a turning point
that year
that was
really more
than a year

the year i lived
on peanut butter,
mail call,
visiting day

the year i sank 
into the deep muck
of depression,
fears and fate

the year when
i felt i wasn't
entitled to smile
or dream

the year when
the darkness settled
and waters
became clear
and deep

the year i learned
that hope is blue
like a springtime sky
and prayer is purple
bold and royal
and everywhere

the year 
i was just
a number

the year 
i became
ME
who was
always hidden
inside.

This was by far the most difficult interview I’ve ever done.

Lisa Montgomery is my friend. She doesn’t have a lot of friends and I want people to know another side of her…

I have received dozens of letters from women I’ve never met. They all say the same thing: “that could have been me.”

Six word stories have been all the rage lately. It all started with Hemingway’s For Sale. Baby Shoes. Never Worn.

Here is my six word story…

For years and years
I built a wall
and stuffed the space
behind it full
of wounds and hurts
and needs
 
all those unspoken needs
Some very small
some not so much
most not even voiced
the space filled and
filled and filled
  
Until one day the pressure
was too great
a small crack and
finally broken
open wide

 I can't hide behind it
anymore - no matter
how hard I try

it's scary
not having a wall
 
It's raw and emotional

I can't pretend
to hide

I fall apart
in an instant
at insignificant things
or sometimes

nothing at all
 
Healing is so
much harder
than hiding
ever was
 
Some days I long
for the safety
of my wall...