When I was three years old I sat on my bed staring. My mother walked past by bedroom, noticed me sitting there and asked, “What’s wrong?!” I responded, “When does the fun start?” I was already depressed. It was not indeed a fun childhood…

I’ve been told to “shut-up” for most of my life. Or, “No! You’re wrong!”

When my ex-husband and I were dating, I asked him, “Do you love me?” He responded angrily, “Probably not!” as if it should be obvious. Except it wasn’t. I had a sense he was at least a little. A year later we were married. Years later he said, “I don’t remember why I said that. I know now that I was in love.”

Once when I was trying to be a good daughter and help my mom leave my sometimes abusive father we lived in a religious, strict women’s shelter suggested to her by her friends. A woman who lived there had been a drug addict and after claiming to be at her eye doctor one day she disappeared. I had the oddly specific sense that she’d met a dealer somewhere, sold herself and used again. I told the women running the shelter my sense as I was only 20 and still thought being open about such things was wise. Of course, they scoffed and told me, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves! Or overreact. Ok!? Calm down. We don’t know what happened. Let’s try to stay grounded in the facts of what we know.” I kid you not, the next morning when she magically arrived sleepless and slurring we were told that she’d found a dealer, used and returned. Before they kicked her out they asked her if she’d prostituted herself. She told them she hadn’t. They believed her.


At this point in my life, I’m entirely exasperated by being told to shut-up in a million different ways. Over and over. I’m rarely wrong. I wish I was… It’d be so much nicer. This way is…beyond aggravating. I have no more human patience willfully left.

In a way I might not keep listening. I might decide not care about certain things anymore until I think I should care again. But, regardless, I’m done being told to shut-up.

If you don’t like me: fine. If you don’t care: fine. If you think what I’m saying is crazy: fine. And if you think you can harass me into submission to the Devil you’re very mistaken. You’re not God despite what your demons tell you otherwise. And, I’m only going to take God seriously past a certain point for now. Because I’ve been told to shut-up much too much…