Why The Fuck Would You Want That?
Not Every Day is A Bed of Roses, But Would You Want it to Be?
I’ve never understood the phrase, “Life’s like a bed of roses.” Why would you want to lay in a bed of roses? They're beautiful, but they also come with thorns that draw blood. Bed shouldn’t be like that.
A bed should be a safe space where you can go to relax from the whole wide world and decompress from the day.
For most of my life, bed was a place I was terrified of. Largely because no matter what room I was in, no matter what bed I laid in, I was never safe from boys and men who either didn’t know, or didn’t care, to keep their hands to themselves.
I was traumatized in bed a lot.
Two years ago, I was in my brand new apartment, after being unhoused for three months and three weeks, starting on my 40th birthday, and I was laying on a dirty old mattress that I’d brought from my old apartment because I thought I’d want to keep it.
It was the last dirty and old mattress I ever slept on because a week after sleeping on it, I bought myself a brand new bed that had — get this — never once been touched by a man.
This bed is especially special because it’s the first bed I’ve ever had in my entire life in which I don’t have to worry about some creep crawling all over me and telling me how beautiful I am.
Gag me.
To this day, the thought of any man telling me I am beautiful makes me sick because that’s what every single one of my abusers used to say. Like vampires, they preferred me because of my age, but also because of my oddly colored skin, which was rare where I grew up.
As a rarity I was to be collected, by as many abusers as possible, like a fucking Pog.
Now, I’m in a safe space where I am no longer being abused. I finally found my voice and can say “No” when men try to push past my boundaries. I can move forward knowing that whatever I did to survive, I only did because I had to survive.
Now that I have (ugh), I guess it’s time to say that I am ready to thrive. I hate that fucking word, because a) it rhymes with survive, but also because it’s such a fucking cliche.
I don’t just want to thrive, I want to take on the entire world. I want to speak to the members of the United Nations about what they are doing in their communities about child abuse so that we can put an end to this dangerous, disgusting, traumatizing, life-altering cycle.
I want to be a part of the change that I can see in the world, and the only way I can do that is if I feel safe enough in my own space to be vulnerable.
For two years, my brand new room was a mess because I didn’t know where to start with organizing all my “stuff.” A lot of the shit I carried with me from my old place, wasn’t even stuff I wanted to keep, it was just what I was able to take with me.
So, getting rid of that stuff is bringing up trauma, but it’s also unlocking doors that I didn’t know were locked and opening up opportunities on my mental health journey that I couldn’t see or understand.
All of this started because I finally have a safe space to exist in, where I can close the door on the world, lock it, and know from the bottom of my heart, that at the end of the day I no longer have to be the worst version of myself, just to get through the fucking day.
Yes, I still carry a ton of rage, resentment, anger, and frustration at the justice system for not doing what “I” think should be done to prevent my abusers from living free and getting away with what they did. That’s a fucking fact.
But letting my anger stop me from living my life just isn’t an option, friends.
I don’t always wake up with the sudden urge to write something beautiful, and for a while, I thought that was a sign of depression, but on some days, I just don’t have anything to say.
The older I get, the quieter I become and thank Goddess I have friends who I can go on adventures with, where I don’t have to talk all the fucking time, because if I didn’t I don’t know what I would do.
I’d probably sink back into the hole of talking to myself just to hear some human sound once in a while.
For the first time in my life, over the last two years at least, I’ve been able to sit in my individual silence and not have to worry about filling the room with sound. Even when I’m alone.
I think this is indicative of my healing. I think this is a sign that I am getting more comfortable with being with myself than I ever have been before.
The only thing I wish that I had was more room to grow, a bigger pot to grow in; however, this means holding more responsibility, and while I understand that will come with time, I am impatient because I also know that more responsibility means that I get to travel, and see the world.
A dream that I’ve held to myself all my life. New Orleans, Delos, Athens and Rome are just four places I want to see most in the world, as well as Devon, England, of course.
But I’m saying these things out loud now because I am healing and because in healing, it’s time to set new goals for the future so that I have something to work towards.
I never understood the point of setting goals until now because I was too busy living life to worry about setting goals and building on my dreams.
But right now, I have nothing but time and a hella comfortable bed that is all mine, that I never have to share until I want to, so setting goals to help me move forward sounds like a perfect idea. Don't you agree?
Sending All My Love,
Devon J Hall, The Original Loud Mouth Brown Girl
