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Midnight's Twilight


I’m sitting on my blue living room couch listening to instrumental Irish music. Bumble is perched behind me.


It is 11:20pm on December 31, 2021. There are only forty minutes left in this year. This tender, unraveling year.

The year my soul was torn asunder.


The year I found out I was molested as a child.

The year I parted with systems that shamed and oppressed me.

The year I set boundaries.

The year I became a badass.

The year I finally saw the deeply etched shadows of trauma within my weary body.

The year I first climbed up the rope.

The year I allowed myself to know my worth.

The year I became a red head.

The year I went to Ireland.

The year I discovered one can be homesick for a place that is not your home.

The year I grieved.

The year that changed me.


11:25pm. Thirty-five minutes until the new year.


I have been avoiding writing recently. I’m both certain and uncertain of the origins of this hesitancy. When I re-read my post on the parasite, I noticed the number of viewers who had read my words. It was more than I was expecting. For the first time, it made me nervous to pen words.

I don’t have any answers. I’m a human making mistakes every damn day. I’m flying by the seat of my pants and have zero sense of direction in this shit-show.

(Trauma+ PTSD+ repressed rebellion= Sailor’s Mouth)


Anyway. I became nervous. What am I supposed to say? Part of me was waiting for inspiration to strike; for me to be thumped on the head with sudden clarity and become a wise, trauma sage overnight.


Alas poor Yorick, that is not how healing works.


I also have not been writing because healing has taken every ounce of my essence.


I rise in the morning with weariness etched within me still from the night before.

PTSD nightmares have worsened as I’ve dug to the root of the trauma.

Unexpected and deafening grief unleashes within the oceans of my body the deeper I excavate.


I went to my PTSD massage therapist/sound and energy healers this past week.

Yes…you read that correctly. Trauma is trapped energy; and what I have found is that it takes a village to unstick that energy. A healing village of people, practices, and patience. I look forward to further blog posts where I have the energy to talk about all the avenues of healing my life has taken. I think it is important, because the stigma around healing methods some may be unaware of can dissipate. However, this is not that blog post.


This one is my journal to myself.

My reminder that 2021 happened. The year that ran me over like a train.

Man, I miss trains. Europe was cool…they had trains.


Coming to the keys as a journal, a safe place to think and write. That realization has helped me come back to the computer and type out my thoughts. This is not a curated blog to woo the world. Expectations do not weigh upon these words. It is just me. Showing up to process out the pain.


11:42pm. Eighteen minutes left of this year.

This year that I found myself.


I talk about the sadness A LOT because most of this is hella sad.

I don’t mind when things are sad. I think it is important to feel the sad. If we let ourselves feel the sad…that makes the joy so much brighter.

Finding myself is my brightness of this year.


I became a bad ass this year.

Like seriously.

My entire life I operated under the Fawn trauma response.

This response essentially being if you please everyone…no one can hurt you. Fawns however, are quite vulnerable creatures…they are easily taken advantage of. Big wolves hunt for small fawns. I’ve feared the Big Bad Wolf my entire life.


Yet this year, the fawn faced the wolf head on.

And then the fawn became a badass….



I’m incredibly proud of myself this year. We were raised to not celebrate ourselves. But it’s 11:50pm and the new year is only ten minutes away. I’m celebrating my damn self.


I flourished this year. I learned to set boundaries. I faced trauma head on and continue to show up every single day to face it again. I allow myself to make mistakes. I allow myself to love the chaos that tumbles within me. I manage my restaurant with as much grace as my current medical condition allows. I am in grad school, studying so that one day I can help others as they walk their own journeys. I am communicating with God every single day. I am communicating with my body every single day. I am allowing the shame to drain away. Shame is no longer my home. I finally fulfilled my dream and traveled to Europe. I found a home that is not my home within the hills of Ireland. I found new possibilities, new adventures, and new questions to ask. I met people that changed my soul’s essence. I have loved deeply. I have loved fiercely. I have fought for love. I have had hard conversations. I have loved a human very very deeply. I have helped make a home with a wonderful human and a silly kitty-cat. I have lived this year. I have put one foot in front of the other.


I rise each day and I face the sun. I lie down each night with the moon guarding the small, scared child within me.


This year changed me. This year broke me. This year…this year is over.


Midnight. 12:00pm. January 1, 2022.


Happy New Year Kasey.


Magic dances in your soul and you have done so well. Rest.


Tomorrow is today and today is tomorrow. The past and present are dancing within your soul; they waltz to the lullabies of your heart.


Goodnight dear one.

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The fawn has become a badass, indeed. May this year being more healing, more wholeness, more finding of self!

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