SabiLew

I write, draw, paint, sing, play my guitar and try to love others because I know I am dearly and endlessly loved and many of us are hurt and trampled and end up hurting others because no one chose to love us... But I believe we are all here to teach each other about the goodness that exists in this world and to evolve as a race to greater acts of love, compassion, and sacrifice... including and not limited to loving the earth and animals that are all around us that we have forgotten to watch after. I have been singing since I can remember and I really want to encourage others who suffer that they are not alone in their suffering, there is someone who understands and can help you get past the suffering and not just survive but to live and thrive and bring joy and healing to others as well.

Today

I like to say I’m a musician but it’s the part of me that I fear the most. I’ve struggled to understand why that is so well enough to convey to others (like my therapist or my friends to help me get through it, past it) and myself. Though a vague idea of the feeling […]

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Well, Here We Are

I signed into work this morning and within seconds I was getting a call from the HR department. They told me that because of their funds they are laying people off. I never felt comfortable at the job especially when they gave me a horrible time last year when I asked for disability accommodations and

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Here It Is

Time passes and even as I work hard to heal and grow I feel stuck between two minds that battle each other endlessly and the battle rages harder from the moment every media outlet starts telling us it’s time to eat turkey, it’s time to see friends and family, it’s time to make wishes and

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Keeping Up

It feels like I am hiding but I have little grasp that from which I am hiding. My guitar is collecting dust. My home is a mess mostly because I don’t really feel safe to take out the trash and the fact that the landlord refused to unclog our second toilet just makes me hate

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I’m Scared

It’s 12:06 AM and I have no idea how to say what I want to say. Everything feels trite or like I’m crying and whining and pathetic. If I think about it hard enough to try to justify it all I feel despair. Is it right that people like me, those of us who feel

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