On the note of what to leave behind:

What is the legacy you want to leave behind?

On the note of what to leave behind

As I run in circles through my mind

I know that I have left a footprint or two

But how the marks are interpreted will be up to you.

For my children I could save some cash

But without passing on financial literacy, how long would it last?

I can imprint in their minds a strong, superhuman mother

But that would be an illusion

As there have been times when I was driven by pain and delusion.

So here I am at 35 trying to stay well –

I want to stay alive.

And for the rest of my days 

I will be sure that I leave behind

A legacy of craftsmanship, notes of expression, even the frowned upon kind.

And I will show that it is possible to

Step out of a tumultuous state of mind

No matter if it is self inflicted,

Stuck for years or even the

Neurospicy kind.

I desire to leave behind

Happy memories

That far outweigh

The pounds of despair

On any bad day

I have laid out so much of myself,

Continued growth is the only option left.

I want my legacy to be as appreciated as 

Millions of dollars that carry families through generations

I want to capture the warmth

The pride the very indescribable

Sentiments that make people want to thrive.

That is how we keep faith and hope alive.

Sharing a brief walk down memory lane in a poem, a few pictures, and a spoken word video


Maybe my lack of satisfaction has nothing to do with a diagnosis

Because maybe, possibly, it could be true

That there’s just something greater that I’m meant to do.

Twirling and attempting to manipulate mood rings as a child,

Never backing down from a fight,

Learning that women can have autonomy even if the head of their household doesn’t belief in such things –

That a woman can be her own head of household instead of clipping her wings –

Some limitations we place on ourselves,

Dust collecting on passions 

That will only become trophies if we make it so

Some things we must do ourselves.

I want to share some pictures and videos that speak louder than the lines shared above do. Thank you for viewing.

I attended this college in undergrad before choosing to go off into the military. My days as a student here were so meaningful that I returned as an adult before I began giving in to my nomad tendencies (again).
I visited the University of North Carolina School of the Arts many times to accompany my late paternal grandfather to complete tasks at his job on this campus.
I entitled this spoken word video “Freedom”

Part 2 – Do You Have the Time? I’m late, but I’m here. (Writing my way into my destiny)

Sometimes I feel that people choose not to heal because they reach a point where they see no purpose in doing so . Although being trauma bound and stuck in victim mentality can be tricky to escape from, it is more difficult to consistently step out of it. 

Personal Reflection:

Starting a healing journey will not lead to the arrest of your childhood abusers. It does not make toxic people in your life see the light. It does not guarantee any apologies. It does not make family look back and go, “Hmm. That’s why he or she is that way.”

Unless you’re a notable member of society  with high status and a wonderful reputation or a ton of money, many people of society don’t care what happened to you. Many people do care, but it’s quite often not the people you’d like to care most. And there are times when those we want to care actually do care, but they may feel powerless as to how to address the taboo topic. They also may be simply trying to keep themselves balanced and may not have the capacity.

My point:

And that’s okay. That’s why we create safe places for ourselves. I have been in therapy for over 10 years. And while I often long to shout things from mountaintops in hopes that my recurring nightmares dissipate, I would much rather be driven by the dreams that I enjoy. The dreams that are leading me to my destiny. My soul’s purpose. Besides, I have a fear of heights.

Some secrets pass away with us. And while I was so close to something by sharing my own secrets, I now realize that I don’t have to. I just needed to forgive myself for my own role in my suffering. And let go.

I got to this point of acceptance: that even though my feelings are valid, it holds no true value to my growth to make a long list of who done what when and why, nor is it acceptable to use that list as an excuse for all the wrong that I have done to others and myself.

The only thing standing in my way at this point is me. And from this day forward, I am going to write my way into the future that I have dreamed of my entire life.

And I’m going to do it right here on this blog.

You may find me floating around on social media, posting many cool and seemingly odd things, but I refuse to stop writing. Thank you for viewing, and please do share any parts of this blog or any of my social media posts with whomever you desire.

Facebook: (New Page) Jusjess Poetry page (@jusjesspoetry)

Instagram: @jusjessmomx3

Do You Have the Time? I’m late. But I’m here. (1)

They say that healing often comes with the desire to be validated for personal progress and that it is one big slippery slope that requires mindfulness.  But who has time to sit with self, to look within self? Who really sits still in present moments? From what I often see, everyone is in a mad dash. In the grocery stores people are huffing and puffing because a mom has a toddler and the need to multitask and while she may have not needed to go into the self checkout line, she has a right to move at a pace that works for her. Right? The freeways are like racetracks now, everyone doing the most at the highest speed possible just to get right in front of you. We all want to get somewhere fast, it seems. 

Oh and by the way, I have yet to “master” mindfulness meditation and the goals of that technique.  I am simply trying to beat writer’s block and a memory block and emotional breakdowns while trying to get my monthly budget together and keep track of my big, detailed, color-coded wall calendar in the hallway.

So needless to say, in such a fast paced world, seeing a woman laying on her patio gazing up at the sky or listening to music while jotting down random thoughts… that’s odd, right? And how dare she blow bubbles with her little toddler and do silly dances because she can care less who’s watching!

Healing is hard. I have never set out on a more daunting, confusing, uncomfortable journey, and it seems endless. But now that I am at this current stage (don’t ask me to name the stage or the percentage of healing that I have completed), it is impossible to go backwards. I mean, it’s pretty damn dumb, too. 

My lens seems more focused now, but I find that I have added curiosity about the world and its many opportunities that require me to be fully present. Not the risky kind of curiosity that led me nowhere fast but the kind that intrigues my humanitarian nature. When that nature lacks focus or boundaries, it leads to chaos. But when it is centered and focused, well… hot damn.

(To be continued)


If you stare in the mirror too long, does your reflection seem to change?

Your mirror, my mirror
No filter.
The imperfections are pretty clear.

Tell me, what reflections do you pick up and carry home with you?

Reflecting fragments of self,
Glimmers of others,
Carrying their shit, your shit,
The world’s shit on your face.

If you stay too entranced in the reflection of someone else,
Yours may not look too good to you.

Sometimes we wanna
Switch mirrors
Even if only for a second.

We try to transfer this and transfer that,

I’m perfect.

Shape shifting to meet
The demands of others,
You sit home alone long enough
You’ll see a blemish form.
Maybe a spot here,
A pimple there,
A very shiny gray hair.
Mirror mirror on the wall,
Who the fuck is this
Staring back at me?

She’s –
Very pretty.

Clean the glass,
Wipe that mirror,

Shower runs,
Don’t worry the condensation will evaporate.

Put on that face.
Which face?
The one that they like?
Nah – just take a second,
And look up.

“Collateral Damage” and “An Ode to the Narcissist“

“An Ode to the Narcissist”

Oh narcissist,

I hate you because I cannot hate you.

No contact I retract 

For  it’s true-

I’m kinda like a reflection of you.

Narcissist walk 

Narcissist talk

The mask, 

When is it on again?

Because maybe just maybe

The empathy in me,

Very childlike,

Maybe what I see in you is familiar.

Cluster B personality


Cliche, my love has no borders

What is a boundary 

To a mind that bends at the will of others?

Raised by,

Loved by.

I chase –


What a way you have with words

And your ability to paint a picture.

Damn I wish I was that good.

I pull out a scale –

Perhaps I can measure 

Which battles to pick and choose.

For if I am an empath

And you are you,

If I be BPD 

And you – be you

Then what else can I do?

Spoken word video – “Resiliency”

“Resiliency” ✨

I get it . 

You want to control 

You want to stifle me but see-

My resiliency.

From the time I was a child you, in various forms, tried to hold me mold me choke me 

Silence what’s  inside 

But see.. 

The thing about resiliency..

I may have stumbled I may have fallen 

Short of expectations 

I might’ve wished that I had a level of deeper understanding 

I might have been lost and not quite known myself 

I might have slipped 

I might have relapsed into the addictions 

Of that stimulated mind 

The narcotic type turmoil of the narc mind

The result of emotionally immature parents 

Growing up in a family full of secrets 

For even though he touched me still today I keep it

But you see.. the thing.. about… resiliency…

My mistakes did seem to follow me the form of patterns

To accept love in forms that I didn’t have to choose

When it’s easy to revert into a traumatic child like mind

When it is all too easy 

To return to survival mode

And 16 years later will I make my three kids do the same?

All because I’m seeking a validation that can’t be claimed

From any source only that which is within?

I messed up again.. and again…

But see.. 


Seeing through a mentally stable and sober mind

Knowing that I am deserving

And only I continue to block my path to success 

These words that beat as my heart pounds through my chest

See I am that spirit

I may get knocked down but I won’t stay down.



Show yourself, Grace

Aren’t we but a series of voices

Relaying messages forward from different lifetimes?

Am I not of my late great-grandmother,

Who bought me a journal

Just after a series of troubled teenage years?

She said: 

“Whatever you do, don’t stop writing.

What did she see in me?

Was it not the very same thing that I saw in her eyes 

As tears formed when she touched my womb

Which carried my unborn daughter?

If I could press record and keep track 

Of the private moments and memories,

The conversations,

Wouldn’t that be a clever life cheat code?

Because pictures and footage of gatherings

And functions are awesome,

But WHY didn’t I capture those 

Moments and

Memories and


That many wouldn’t believe

If I stood before them now

And attempted to summarize

The depths of those 

Moments and

Memories and


I open my mouth to attempt 

Such a task but what comes out 

Is gibberish,

Talking in circles,

Unable to verbally 

Use my favorite tool,


Unable to tap in

And reach through,

For she said whatever you do

Don’t stop writing.

My dear late cousin told me 

To never stop fighting.

Gosh, why can’t I say these things

When given the chance?

Instead I become flabbergasted

At the slightest glance

But if only they knew

The depths of what is inside –

It isn’t that crazy,

It isn’t intoxication,

It ain’t that hazy.

It is deep and spiritual

And I wanted to run,

But the purpose of greatness

Had already begun

I say to people all the time:

“Show yourself grace.”

Sure, it is true that 

My mind moves at a pace

Faster that my body can maintain

But listen:

All it takes is a moment to slow down,

Have a talk or several with God,

Pick myself up,

No need to stay down.

And I think deeply of how those who

Came before me,

Saw something inside 

Although I longed to destroy me.

I pray, meditate,

Take a walk, or eight.

I wash my face,

I slow my pace,

And after that talk, 

I whisper,

“Show yourself, Grace.”

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