dear clementine of 2002
you are not crazy. i know the feelings inside of you are so huge and so much and that no one is taking responsibility for the abuse you’ve experienced and you don’t know right from wrong anymore. your intense emotions and your sense of justice are blessings. your courage is a blessing. cutting yourself is a blessing because it is the red flag that will get you help. i know that everything is so overwhelming right now and you feel like you have entered the last chapter of your life. i know you are planning your suicide, trying to come up with the right way. but the ending you are expecting is not that kind of ending. it’s not the end of your life. it’s just the end of this one chapter in your life and it is the beginning of the ending of allowing other people to abuse and hurt you. you are learning how to say no. and it’s a long, long journey but you are taking brilliantly brave first steps.
thank you for coming out of the closet. you are so brave. thank you for going to the police about your pedophile grandfather. you are so fucking brave. you saved my life as well as your own. i could never have existed if it weren’t for the steps you are taking right now. there is nothing wrong with you. these feelings are okay. you are traumatized and betrayed. you are hurting. and you are bursting with emotion and longing and that is okay. you are allowed to feel these things. when people tell you to stop cutting yourself and to stop acting all crazy, just don’t worry about it. it’s not your job to appease them. what you are doing right now is taking care of yourself. and even though that doesn’t make sense to other people, i, your future self, can attest to it’s truth. you will find other ways of coping, but for now, ignore the guilt trips and the shaming. how you are keeping yourself alive and dealing with your pain is perfectly okay.
but don’t kill yourself. here are the things you have to look forward to: next year you’re going to move to toronto and attend a queer alternative school. you will get to experience queer community full time. you will never see your disgusting grandfather again. you will become best friends with your sister and end up living with her for years. you will publish tons of zines and connect with people all over the world through your writing. you will fall in love. you will have your heart broken. you will also break some hearts. you will grow to know and love toronto as your very own home. you will learn to play guitar and write your own songs. you will learn to ride a bike and ride it all over toronto like it’s nothing. you will even learn to skateboard… i know, you don’t believe that for a second but it’s true. you’ll have sex. some of it will be really fuckin good. you’ll make friends, lots of them. some of them will be real and true, good friends. you haven’t even met these people yet. you will learn to love yourself in ways that you don’t even know are possible yet. you’ll become an alcoholic and get sober. you’ll go to university and get a degree in women’s studies. you will learn so much and grow so much. and that boy you are so utterly preoccupied with? you’ll still be friends with him years and years after you have lost touch with all the people from your home town. and all of this is just the next ten years. so don’t kill yourself. you have so much to look forward to.
i know it’s fuckin scary right now. i know it is so overwhelming and you feel so alone. i know you are filled with guilt and shame but you have nothing to feel guilty for or ashamed of. it’s not your fault that your grandfather sexually abused you and that your parents didn’t help you. that is not on you at all, and in time i promise that you will come to understand that. in time, you will come to love and understand yourself and you won’t fear your vast emotions. you will embrace them. they will fuel your writing and your art. so don’t listen when people tell you that you are too much, too sensitive, too smart, too crazy. you’re not. you’re just right. you are you and there is only one of you and you are perfect just as you are, in all your pain and imperfection. and you, in all your bravery, have saved my life. i wouldn’t exist without you. so thank you, thank you, thank you. keep being brave. i promise it will be worth it.
love clementine of 2012
Filed under bicycles, coming out, crazy, guitar, incest, letters, queer, self injury, self love, skateboarding, teenage clementine, toronto, trauma
one month of sobriety
today marks one month of complete and total sobriety for me! <3
Filed under my photography, self portraits, sobriety/recovery
my new helmet
i learned to ride a bike at the age of 23 and i have been cycling all over the city, rain and shine and snow, for about two years now. at night, in storms, during rush hour, on the busiest streets, etc. i have never worn a helmet. lots of people go without a helmet. it’s a hindrance to remember it and carry it around and maybe i don’t really need it and maybe it will look stupid and so on and so on (excuses). yet, i’m an adamant believer in safer sex and harm reduction and i don’t care what people think of me in any other case in my life. so why hadn’t i got a helmet? part of it was that i just hadn’t got around to it and part of it was that whole ‘it will never happen to me’ mentality and part of it was that i thought i was too cool. but fuck all of that. lately, i’ve been working on self love as action, not just feeling. and seriously, protecting my brain from serious injury is a fundamental act of self love. so i got over all my bullshit and i got myself a helmet. i also got sunscreen. i’m putting self love into action, for real. because i am worth it.
praying to the crone
i’ve been praying to the crone. feeling her old bones. the answers appear before me, the questions shift and change. i am grateful to be reborn. 1000 lives i’ve lived already and she has asked me to return. i drink down this hot tea with honey, trying to heal. i am stopped because she stopped me. she wanted me here.
what will i want when i don’t want this anymore? what’s to want when you’ve been fulfilled? what’s to want when you have met, loved and lost your soul mate? i don’t belong, i long, i long. i wander aimlessly starstruck streets and i am nothing less than what i’ve been. i asked, i received. i was granted more than i could believe.
go, i let him go, go, i let her go, go, i let you go, go, i let myself go. no, oh no, oh no, oh no. there is nothing left but the endlessness and i soak it up eternally, i become it, i spiral uncontrollably, i pulse with vibrations that cannot be perceived on this plane. yes, we all have a purpose and part of that purpose is the pain.
Filed under creative writing, goddess worship, spirituality, the crone, witches
things i am grateful for (in no particular order)
1. aa and all the amazing, supportive people i’ve met there.
2. my bicycle.
3. my three lovely cats.
4. the goddess and all the adventures she sends me on.
5. my counselor.
6. feminism.
7. activists who work hard every day trying to make a better world.
8. the opportunity to learn new things and think differently.
9. real friends.
10. trees.
