Author Archives: Ellevaughn

You’ve always treated me as an option.

Someone you can walk away from whenever it no longer suited your needs, wants, desires.

I am not an option. I’m a priority.

I’ve begged you to stay more times than I am willing to admit, so why does it feel like I am standing here alone?

Holding my own hand…

Promising a future you can’t uphold.

I promised myself I would never again bend over backwards, sideways and twist for a man who wouldn’t do that same, but here I am. Twisted into a pretzel you don’t want.

I don’t know how I got here, honestly. I was so careful. I wanted so deeply to believe the web of lies I spun in my head. They were good lies too. Lies. of happiness, empathy, caring, action and need.

I can’t blame you, I tricked myself.

I wanted to badly not to make the same mistake twice. Idiot.

But..but I want so badly to make it work. Make the lies become my reality.

I only need to determine if there are handles or if its a cloud in the sky…

I thought my 30’s would feel like settling down.

But no one told me they’d feel like unlearning. Like gently releasing the life I thought I was supposed to want, and learning to trust the quiet pull toward something deeper. Something real. I thought I’d have it all figured out by now. The person. The path. The plan. But instead, I’e found myself starting over in love, in career, in who I am and what I value. And for the first itme, it doesn’t feel like failure. It feels like finally choosing myself without apology. My 30’s didn’t show up wrapped in certainty. They came with grief, stillness, lonely nights, unexpected clarity, and with a hundred moments that quietly said, “This version of life no longer fits you”. So I’ve been rebuilding not out of desperation, but out of hope. Out of faith that what’s ahead is better aligned then anything I ever settled for in the past. This is the decade I imagined, but maybem just maybe its the one that finally brought my home to myself.

I wasn’t crushed by chaos or loss. The universe did something gentler, but more cruel. It made me everyones anchor, but no one’s harbor. So I stay steady. I listen, care, hold for space. I’m the strong one, but when I fall a prat, the room goes quiet. I want someone to ask, to stay, but i say “I’m fine”, because they need me to be. Surrounded, but starving for connection. I carry the weight, but inside, I’m tired and unseen. And I don’t know whats worse, being alone, or being everything for everyone and still feeling invisible.

No one talks about the angry daughter. Shes the daughter that no one has ever worried about, because she was always hyper- independent. She’s the one who used to be so patient, empathetic, loving, caring, and understanding. Until it got to the point where she was drained, emptied out, and crying from everyone leaning on her. She got worn out from all the responsibilities, from people pleasing, to constantly adjusting, to everyone else’s needs and being everything to everyone all at once. Now she’s always tired, frustrated, angry, irritated, and depressed but she still shows up, still provides, still stand tall, but she’s at her breaking point, She doesn’t know how much more she can take living this way. She just wishes someone would show up for her the way she does for everyone else.

When your life falls apart the first time it’s like a tsunami. The waves are unexpected and fierce, crashing into the reality you so meticulously built wiping away any evidence of your previous life: but the second time you life falls apart you feel as though you’re prepared. The walls have been built, the sand bags are in place and you’re seemingly ready for the chaos to ensue. But trying you’re never ready for the destruction of reality.

Have you even been actively disappointed in who you are? Like you’re sitting there playing a phone game wasting precious time that could be better used doing things you truly enjoy and yet you don’t change it. You tell yourself you will. Tomorrow. The next day but you don’t. The cycle continues and the disappointment grows until you loath even the smallest things.

I meant to be a good person, truly. I’m not even certain where it all went wrong. I supposes saying, I meant to be good makes it sound as though I am bad. As if life could be simplified down to the basics like good and bad. All I know is that I’m not good I used to think I could be. I prided myself on being the diligent one. The trust worthy, hard working, would do anything for anyone, strong, honest, could push through anything person. But that person does not exist. I’m not sure she ever did. Who I am now, is who I may have always been. A lying, thief, who manipulates people to get what she wants, lacking any moral obligations. I truly meant to be good, but life just handed me a different set of cards.

I have a tendency to live and die by these feelings. The trouble is, I can’t quite fully understand why I have them or where they should end.

I’d been cleaning the house all day, earbuds in, jamming out to all the songs that remind me of the love I feel for you on the numerous levels inside me when finally you came home. I didn’t hear you come in but I saw you from the corner of my eye and I shit the music off instantly.

“Hi!” I said, excited you were finally here with me, but you didn’t seem as thrilled. “Hey”

“How was your dads?” I asked wanting to give you the opportunity to fill me in on all I’d missed.

“Good”. I waited for more but it didn’t come. You washed your hands and walked past me with not even a kiss and I felt the excitement drain from my body like rain from the clouds the night before.

Did you not miss me as much as I missed you? Did you want to come Home to someone else?

Why is it that one simple interaction can color the whole day?

I collect things, people, places, memories…any and everything I can hold onto that will remind me what I’m supposed to feel.