Fits and Giggles

My prior blog post was dedicated to loss, and heartbreak. It was clear in my words, and the egg shells I walked on when writing that in the moment I thought I was standing my ground, recognizing the pain, and was strong enough to believe, I could walk away. What I want to be honest about, was I wasn't. Those words came from a girl, who was in love, deeply. They were words of hope in a sense, with a lingering sadness. They expressed mildly the nature of my current state, but, they weren't honest.  Pretending to be someone I'm not, because fear of rejection has been a consistent struggle in my life. Strength in moments of weakness, that I portrayed, was not the strength I so eagerly wanted to have. So, I wrote, I used words, to deliver what I could, masked by underlying weakness.  Within the last year, I have experienced true rejection, betrayal, defeat, on multiple levels. I had lost faith in myself and thought that I deserved the way I was being treated, both personally and...

  Sitting here, starring at my screen, figuring out how to portray what I’ve experienced and felt in the past few months, is hard. Its not hard because I can’t explain in words what I’m feeling, its hard because I’m not even sure if this is when I should share, explain, or try to release. What’s different, is that the feeling of numbness is still so present, it almost masks the true intention of the reason why I am writing, but, I have always felt that when I write I find clarity. Clarity is something I’ve been struggling to find, so any attempt that allows a vulnerability to show itself, is a method that I will never turn down. There is no intent of this blog to intensify any sense of ill feelings towards this human, there is no need to establish an understanding to those reading as to what the person meant to me, did to me, or even the brokenness they left me in. That is apparent, and that is brutal enough to process myself, let alone push anymore blame or ill intent into the...

 I want to start this blog out by saying, this is in no way a blog to shed blame, stir tension, or ask for sympathy in any manner. I am writing this blog in a space of empathy, and a place that I hope someone reading can relate, and in that relation, grow to handle ridiculously hard situations from a new perspective. My hope when sharing is always with the intent to shed light on the reality of situations, but also how you can turn something that may of felt hurtful at the time, into something you can take away and learn from and become a stronger person, because as we all know, life will continue to deliver tough situations, but it is how we deal and process that truly matters.  I was fortunate enough to travel home over the holiday to visit one of my good friends, family, as well as my favorite place of birth, EPA. What I was not expecting was to have an interaction with a friend of a friend, which had me being labeled as a Fat Ass, amongst other things that were all directl...

  SO its been a while, good ole blog of mine, its been a while since I’ve put my thoughts to “paper” or have honestly had the energy or felt the right moment to do so. This blog was started when I went on my first independent adventure. I needed an outlet to vent, to and engage with those I was far from, to try and not only convey the adventure I was on but to in a sense figure it out in a way of writing out my thoughts that were spiraling inside of this beautiful mind of mine.  To go full circle, I am so thankful for every self that has taken the time to sit and write, my posts, are unique, each thought conveying a different perspective, shift, time in my life. You truly don’t see how you’ve changed, grown, taken steps back, matured and fought until you're able to read past writings. I am thankful to myself for keeping my story alive, in every aspect, because that is what I feel I am here to do, what I am supposed to share. My story.  There are times that we are all sear...

  A little prelude before you enter the journey of reading the below, the awareness that I have, in being able to write this post, has come from hours and hours on end of really going deeper within myself. I’ve always been a reader, I’ve always had a yearning to learn something new every day, in a sense its what I’ve learned is one of the ways I ensure my happiness. My brain is the happiest when she (yes, it’s a she, do you even know me?) 😊 is learning. I think my first dive into the self-journey started with a You are A BadAss, which skimmed the surface, and from there I just continued the process. Through therapy, mediation work, journaling, reading, and reading, listening, and learning to other’s stories, I can say I am starting to skim the surface and really put into perspective who I am, and better yet, understand my past, reactions I’ve had and still have, and really start to attempt in putting the pieces together. With that being said, this significant post is a basic ...

A title that is short, sweet, and straight to the point. Now ovbiously we can be better, everyday, that we are living on this earth, and experiencing the day to day-ness, but what I want to call out specifically is in regards to how we communicate with one another.  We must do better. There are too many people walking this earth who feel as if they are not heard, seen or validated. Yes, all of these qualities, feelings, must be felt within, and we as humans are responsible for providing that sense of acceptance, and love for ourselves, BUT it doesn't mean that those that we interact with, get to drop the ball.  How many times, and be realistic, today, and stop and scroll through your text messages, or pause and ponder a call or interaction you've had thus far, have you interjected YOUR thoughts and YOUR feelings when someone was simply trying to share with you? Were you listening to the other person, or were you thinking of what you wanted to say, that happened to you?...

 I think it can be said that one can have many different perspectives throughout their life on certain situations that are vital to or are said to be vital to their existence while on this earth. Let's be clear on what I am referring to, which is love. The most beautiful but overly complicated free gift we all are given the moment we enter into this life. Actually, pause and rewind, we're given this even before we're welcomed onto earth by our mothers who carry us within their wombs.  We are born from and into love, yet if its something we all inherently get so easily and free, why is it such a top of discussion and in routine cases something we can't figure out how to receive and give? Now love to me personally takes on many personas, there's the love that I have been given from my family, which has always been undeniable.  There is love in a way that I have had for a friend, some deeper then others, but a loving supportive care of genuine reciprocated respect and ...

Graciously giving and forever welcome Strength made from within, and felt throughout Crystal sparkles caught by the sunlight shining in an effortless rainbow glow Scents of cinnamon and safety with an embracement of warmth Feelings of captured memories, and marked ceilings with height Walls of mugs, placed by frames of familiar smiling faces Floors used for sitting and sharing newspaper holiday special ads Couches crammed, pillows placed, laughter shared Cans of Pepsi, bins of pizzelles, blueberry bagels Large open window opening up to a yard with a slanted hill Grasses filled with colored eggs and footprints of those who played Uniformed Goose perched, welcoming you in Rusted key placed upon the breezeway door Stairway paved with newspaper wallpaper, connected to a creaky rail Mattress of where she rests, next to bedrooms once shared White shingles, black shutters, small tree rooted Where she reads,where the light glows in, where we all go. My Grandma's House.

Once in a while I have this sudden urge to just write, write it out, with no real reason behind what I am trying to convey or say. Sometimes there really isn't a real message or a want to try and persuade anyone to read what I am writing or conveniently saying it in my own way of saying it.  I do think any post can be relatable to anyone in the way that they perceive the words on the page, and begin to hear themselves as the author vs reading someone else's thoughts. I think its because we are all living our lives behind the curtain, doing our damn best, but shying away at sharing, and allowing others to see who we truly are. This meaning our struggle stories, that for many, are never shared based off of the fear of judgment, and shame.  Do we truly ever know anyone? Are we ever truly honest with another human being about who we actually are, or is it just this façade of letting others see what they want to see. I read somewhere that there are multiple vers...

 Why is it that we always use preceding events in our life to try and define life lessons we think would be valuable to our future self, to younger generations, or to those who are actively seeking any type of advice to cling onto? What I want to do is to completely switch this notion of thinking, and not ask what I can offer to my younger self, but what my younger self can offer to me. When did we become so intent on thinking that the older we get the more we know?  If we truly look back in our younger years, in the years before we were taught judgement, insecurity, possession, greed, desires, this is where we can take the learnings we need to live a happy and fulfilling life. Our younger self should be standing in the forefront, waving all of the flags, shouting to us to wake up and remember who we used to be, and not be overshadowed by this inner desire to forge on with knowledge we think we've learned along the way.  This switch can cause a revolution in who we look t...

Irked, annoyed, but not shook. Why am I not shook, or surprised, or throwing a tantrum at my television screen (may have had a few ill words shouted at it this morning) BUT, why is my reaction so non-chalant you ask? Because we as females have grown used to the disgusting looks, cat calls, un-wanted touches, small smirks, full body scans we get on a daily basis. We've learned to value ourselves and pivot any insecure or un-wanted emotions that rise to the surface when we inevitably must deal with these situations, and understand it says more about the immature prick behaving like a hormone induced teen-ager then it does ourselves. It doesn't have to do with what we’re wearing, how we speak, the way we walk, or how our legs are crossed. The reality of it is this culture that we have allowed men to get away with every.little.thing. I mean it's like they have been given a hall pass to life, and especially when it comes to how they control themselves in a work setting with ...

I always like to mention, the reasons I continue to explore this way of expressing myself is because once my fingers hit this keyboard, everything just flows. Its like I'm pouring out my entire mental space onto this single piece of paper. There's no filter or rephrasing, I don't correct any grammatical errors, because there isn't punctuations in your mental health. If anything, its a massive pit of thoughts, words, ideas, images, jumbled into one large pile of insanity.  There's no right or wrong way to express. Where i find myself not feeling my best, is when I don't, so I'm here to just express.  I know when i mention Greys Anatomy, there will be a sense of its a TV show, and how can a TV show, made up of actors, make you feel a way but to me there is messages in everything we choose to watch, listen, breathe in, and surround ourselves with. However we utilize our time, if we look, you can find a message, something bigger then yourself, something that is ...

I think I've made it clear, to those few gems that read the writings of Abby C Ashton, that my strength in expressing my gratitude and feelings, come through the pushing of the letters on a keyboard, vs being able to express the same clarity and expressions through my mouth, and for many this is a blessing (you're all welcome)  But jokes aside, this blog post, is a post that I hold close to my heart, and I hope I am able to do it and her justice. Before I get into this piece, I just want to recognize the blessings I have been given purely based on the family I was born into. I truly feel, any struggle I have been able to tackle and rise above from, is because and in all honesty only because I have such a strong support system from my family. I am fully aware that this blessing I have, isn't one that everyone is able to express gratitude and genuine love for, and that in itself is something I will never take for granted.  As mentioned in my beginning statement, there really ...

  Whenever I have a trying day, week, weeks, I have become aware that the struggle I am going through, the days where I don’t feel like smiling, working, commuting, communicating, the days that are my worst days, some how are there, helping me, reminding me, and in small bits and pieces showing me spurts of insight, that leads to small growth, that is sparkle of hope, at the end of the mess. Getting through the exhaustion, trekking through the tears, the anxiety, and the fog, is one thing that I can admit, I am not the best at, but it is something I am trying to understand and recognize, instead of doing the everything is alright notion, that everyone seems to be walking around with, because honestly everything is not alright, and I’m going to blog the f out of it. A struggle I’ve had, the minute I stepped out of my beloved education cycle of life, was working within a male dominated space. I’ve been undermined, belittled, disrespected, talked-over, have had my physical appeara...

I want to preface you as a reader, on what you are about to read. I want to emphasize that this is not a sugar coated piece , this isn’t an article that will leave you feeling comfortable, it is an article that will leave you grasping for air, it will leave you dumb founded, and uncertain of any certainty you ever had. The stories from the two woman  below, are people that I have been blessed to have in my life.  They have taken the time , and put aside the intense and unrelenting pain they are going through, to voice their stories,  portraying what they as black woman have dealt with, with brutal honesty, and only the purest intentions. Their stories are painful, their words disheartening, but what is most concerning is that these are not fictional stories, these are their lives I called, they talked, and I listened. This is what I heard. Paris I’m trying to think of how to express this to you, when its so normalized for me , its hard for me to tak...