Throw Back Thursday (on a Friday!): Warpaint (1/10/2017)

I failed yesterday. Life threw its chaos at me, and I didn’t manage to share my Throwback Thursday post. But here it is, a day late, and oh, how it pulls at my heartstrings. Written in 2017, revisiting it fills me with a bittersweet ache for the woman I once was. On the surface, I seemed blissful and content, yet beneath that façade, I was deeply fractured. Emerging from the agonizing loss of a baby, piecing my life back together amidst monumental upheavals and grappling with family turmoil—especially the wounds inflicted by my own mother. Internally, I battled relentless darkness, a fierce struggle I concealed expertly. I should have reached out for support after the loss of my baby, but I stubbornly pressed on, convinced I could bear the emotional weight alone. Today, I reflect and can declare with unwavering confidence that I am no longer that shattered woman. I scarcely recognize her. I think of her every now and then, but it’s akin to gazing at an old photograph of someone I knew long before the memories began. I am whole now. No longer do I face life’s battles in solitude; I stand shoulder to shoulder with my husband, my best friend, who unwaveringly supports me through every storm. I don’t dwell in the past anymore, because the present is too damn beautiful to look anywhere else.

WARPAINT (1/10/2017)

She wears the smeared mascara on her face like warpaint

The tears bring out the fighter in her, but they also let out the pain

Pain she’s held for such a long time 

Pain she never takes the time to feel 

Pain she pretends isn’t real 

She’s held it together so well they never even knew 

Making moves, living life, going places, hiding the uproar in her soul, willing the smile on her face to last 

Walking through each day like she didn’t still live in the past 

Pretending it didn’t break her 

Shatter her heart into a thousand pieces of sadness 

Pretending it didn’t scar her 

Make her bitter, and overcome her mind with madness 

So tonight, She wears the smeared mascara on her face like warpaint 

Knowing that tomorrow she will wake up to another day bringing another battle 

She’ll clean her face, fix her hair, and paint on a smile 

Knowing her resolve is slowly decaying all the while