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Where Is Home?

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In a time of  not knowing where my real home is, is a fear yet at the same I’m waiting for where my real home sweet home is. I’m shifting through a highly difficult transition in my life, and I’m ready for the change and as to where it will take me. In my heart of hearts it will be an adventure and finally at the age of 42 ready to settle down which I never wanted until now. There’s so much happiness and joy in my life, and when I think of it I sparkle. My spark was lost for 4 long years. It lead me down the rabbit hole life was a fantasy also a blur. In the blink of an eye I wasn’t the person who I was, in part of it some of me came back. I went from a victim in my own home, a prisoner of my mind, body and spirit. Somehow God was watching, he pulled me through the veins of hell. I remain to fight the demons that want to plague me at times.

Living with massive to major depression, high functioning anxiety and PTSD  has it’s high’s and low’s. I’m navigating through it, not to let it hinder me and nor does my learning disabilities. I’m normal, highly independent and when push comes to shove I will put someone in their place even when it comes to them being in my home. Gas lighting happens in families and it’s in mine as I continue to learn more on gas lighting and as well narcissistic abuse .

Regardless of what will come in the coming months I’ll get through it with the right people in my life. Those who give me joy and happiness that which make me sparkle.

Home is where the heart is and when it comes to be I’ll know and that is what matters most, to have love, joy, happiness and reason to believe.

There’s life to live even with living with depression, anxiety and PTSD. It’s how to navigate through it the best you can.

 

The intensity of my writing is what it is, as to where I am and going in life. No one will ever see the fragile me as I once was. I’m vulnerable, yet stronger, wiser, smarter and tougher around the edges. Yes, there’s the sensitivity, heart and spirit I live. It’s who I am, and you’ll get it much more. It will hit you in the gut when you least expect it to.

The Poem: Home Sweet Home

Home Sweet Home Poetry By Shellie Palmer - Made with PosterMyWall (1)