A Tale of Three Men

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Shushed and hushed

Ignored, shut up!

Told to simmer down

Made me cry, don’t ever ask why

That slutty color made him frown

No real dates, just hung out

Disappeared for days, no calls

On his own time he’d come ’round

Bailed on me, just let him be!!

Stared angrily at the ground

Holds my hand, keeps his word

Tells me how smart I am

Helps me heal, a tender heart

Within his arms I feel safe…

A beginning of a new start


Three Men by Sandra Carey

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The Shedding

I’ve grown up quite a bit over the last year, which I know must sound odd figuring that I’m 44 years old and already a grown-up. Please allow me to explain in greater detail.

I am on a path of self-realization. I’m seeing my past mistakes and faults through a strong microscope, calling myself out on my own bullshit.

I ask the Universe and God, my angels and my father for guidance on a regular basis.

I’m taking notice of the little signs that are being sent to me, through music, similarities, angel numbers, coincidences and my daily interactions with others.

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Sevens everywhere, everyday.

I’m starting to speak my truth and to follow my natural intuition. I no longer shrink myself down to make others feel comfortable. I’m seeking self- forgiveness, for being so unfair and cruel to myself practically my entire life. I’ve always had such a hard time loving myself for who I am and although it’s a work in progress, I feel as though I’m partway there.

I reject anyone who goes out of their way to hurt me.

I feel more sorry for asshat than I do hate him, because he’s an empty, morally defunct husk of a man who will never know love. I’m doubtful that he’ll ever find any sort of peace within himself, no matter how many woman he sleeps with or if he ends up owning a bunch of the selfish possessions that he was always so hungry for.

All I want is to become the person that I was meant to be.

A good person who doesn’t take advantage of people, somebody who tries each and every day to be better than I was the day before.

My old self, well, she’s starting to vanish and is being replaced by the woman that I am starting to watch emerge (amazingly) from the depths of a hell that was of her own creation.

I will continue to struggle and stumble, because life is a wicked bitch sometimes, but my friends, it is also breathtakingly beautiful.

The shedding of my old skin is now just the archaic remains of my far too long-buried soul.

Self-Conversation

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The first one was somewhat thrust upon you without much time to really think about it.

Even the thoughts that did whistle through your mind that this didn’t feel quite right were mostly ignored due to your youthful, inexperienced and trusting nature.

Love meant that he had a right to know your every move, your every thought.

Your friends were scared off and only by sheer willpower did you get to keep your family, although when he snapped his fingers to leave, you’d jump and scoop up the child that you had together before he lost his cool.

He was in charge and he called the shots. You had no opinion of your own, nor were you allowed to be an individual. Bravo on eventually getting even by defying him more and more often as the days went by. Even back then you had some spunk, you were just starting to figure out how to fight back the best way that you could.

He was no king of hidden things. He was blatantly abusive and almost proud of it, as sick as that sounds. Every person who came into contact with him knew that he could turn nasty in a heartbeat, but he also had the ability to be charming when it suited him.

He was a crafty bastard, no doubt. But you took your beloved kid and courageously escaped after just less than 6 years. Phew, that has been a total bitch, but you’d never allow that kind of thing to happen to you again, you swore to yourself.

The second one you chased because you enjoyed the thrill that it provided you with. It was much like a challenge, to win the heart of this man who seemed to struggle with living life almost as much as you did.

He shared the same twisted sense of humor with you, bantering naturally back and forth as quickly as a tennis game, a match of wits.

He broke your heart constantly, but you kept taking him back because you still believed that you were destined to be together and after so many years, you knew him so well. You got smug about it, thinking that no matter what sort of drama that he brought to your table, you had no choice but to endure it because that’s what love was.

A race of endurance no matter what the cost.

He was the rabbit. Instead of being the tortoise, you were the ostrich, with your head buried under the sand for just shy of 15 years.

Forgiving yourself, now that’ll take some time, but it’s an extremely important part of moving onward, otherwise your future with the third one will be poisoned with rodent killer.