page 54 of 365

for a long time i didnt think much of my poor hygiene-

i didnt think anything of it actually.

i was sixteen when i learned that it was a direct result of the sexual abuse i endured as a child.

although, by that time

i had started to maintain it much more than i ever had as a child.

still-

only enough to keep people from noticing.

afterall,

i was maturing into a woman.

boys had started to notice me,

i didnt want to be the focus, the poster child at school of poor hygiene.

so

i showered regularly,

i learned to shave my legs,

i wore deoderant.

i had even started doing my hair and a small touch of daily makeup.

things that up until teenagehood i had struggled severely with

like simply brushing my hair.

or changing my clothes.

honestly,

if my parents wouldnt have paid for sealants on my teeth as a child I probably wouldnt have any real ones today.

i never brushed my teeth.

and i couldnt tell you why, it was just so damn hard.

showering mightve been my only hygienic practice as a child.

but even then,

i never washed my body, only my hair.

i remember the day my mom found out i wasnt washing properly,

i realized what a freak i really was.

of course, at that time, my trauma was mostly blocked by my subconscious.

i knew i didnt like to be touched.

i knew i wanted to look like a boy.

older men didnt want to touch little boys,

right?

wrong.

i was dead wrong,

i learned a little while later just how wrong i really was.

that it doesnt matter if youre a boy or if youre a girl.

that children will always be prey.

but thats a different story for a different day.

now

im in my mid-twenties.

and if you looked me up and down, you would never know that I once struggled so excessively with everyday hygiene.

now im in my mid-twenties

and im in charge of someone elses hygiene.

a tiny someone.

and it was my fear for a long time that i might fail her with poor hygeine.

but if im being honest,

i think were doing pretty good so far.

sometimes little victories mean so much.

-anonymous

page 53 of 365

im over emotional,

that much is certain.

i go through phases; sometimes i feel like the moon-

or maybe the tides.

waxing and waning.

ebbing and flowing.

the difference between myelf and these correlations being that the cycles of my life do not run on any fixed time.

12 hours does not guarantee change.

nor seven days.

nor twenty eight.

sometimes its longer, much longer.

sometimes its not.

and so it goes.

i know that the actual act of the cycle holds a deep purpose. afterall, how could the moon ever grow to be full and bright if it was never once also hidden behind the night sky?

i know that my low points are of equal importance to my high ones-

its a balance between the two that im in angst to find.

the funny thing is

sometimes when im up, i swear i got it all figured out: the balance.

hell, sometimes even when i’m down i do.

but then life sends a new wave to show me that I, in fact, do not have a fucking clue about balance- sure maybe in thoery, but definitely not in practice. not in reality.

and maybe thats just the thing.

maybe were not meant to.

– anonymous