She with the stilettos dripping in excrement

Leave a comment
emotional health / human experience / mental health / relationships


She works alone in the dark, behind dumpsters full from the waste leftover from those who she spit out after she’d won another match.  It’s always in the darkest of night when she caws rather barbarically, throwing caution to the Gods, who she professes to entrust her life to. She’s a hypocrite. She has no conscience. You are nothing but a gateway to what she really wants. She fed you, stroked your ego til you began feeling amazing and powerful and now you are nothing but the urban dust and decay on the tiny heel of her fancy stiletto that gets her from Emotional High Street to Downtown Main Street.

She looks like an innocent. Outside appearances hide the ugliness within her well manicured nails and designer purses that hold her arsenal of influence. She will attempt to buy you. Not your love, but your influence. You won’t have seen it coming. Everyone has a price. She will use you. You will not know how you came to that decision. She will devour you and moments later, she will vomit you back up as she must leave room for more souls. It will be as if you return from the bowels of her very own hell, and in the form of weakness and shame, you limp away before being snatched up and heaved into the dumpster to rot.

If you are spared, She will call your shots. You will open your mouth and speak as if a puppet attached to her golden purse strings. You will be victimized and angry. People will talk about you. They will murmur how shocked they are that you have breached all lines of ethics and morality. You will feel a ting of regret. You won’t always know why though, because the mere peasants that you crap on will be too busy shoveling excrement off their faces to see clearly; they don’t like conflict, you see. That is why She is able to continue to manipulate and take advantage of you.

Your faithful friends will question you behind your back. They will continue on as usual though. No one will stand up for the victims in the dumpster. Why would they? They too, could be eaten up.  What is in it for them? There is nothing but integrity and character to gain from such an act of rebellion. It is far too risky to stand up to She, with the cunning strategy and arsenal of positive appearing reinforcements for her minions to share and, like crack they stow away in corners and smoke of the toxic goodness that makes them forget how unworthy they feel for being paid for their silence.

Even high they know that standing up for something right is too lofty a price to pay for them. The risk does not outweigh the rewards they are receiving for their quiet compliance. Not yet anyway. And the beat goes on until some very brave someone with absolutely everything to lose stands up and murmurs half to herself and half to those who might come up from the excrement,

stop. this is wrong.

At that tiny sound, a person or two  might peek up from the fecal matter and hone their ears to listen.

we are better than this. stand with me. Pleeeeaassse.

Suddenly there will be multitudes of people, shaking the feces out of their ears and listening to this small voice.

Please. Stand up for what is right and good. We are more powerful together!

Please… me that human kind is caring and loving and good. I need to see your goodness! Please stand up for what is right! Don’t fall for false idols with stilettos and money! Fight for people! Fight for what is right!……right?…We can do this together…!

Spineless people, afraid of retribution, will scurry back into their comfy holes of shit. It was just safer down there.

Suddenly realizing that maybe nobody actually cared, our very brave someone, now deflated, will wipe the tears from her eyes and face, sit resolutely in place and shout,


At this point she silently forgave those who sold out; and prayed for the world, her piece of a very large world, that God would help people see what potential she saw if only they would come together and demand change.


The Author

I am a licensed clinical social worker who just happens to adore the written word. I have had a private practice and am now writing a memoir on my life in the company of my father and many of my clients who have been diagnosed with bipolar disorder. I hope to dispel some myths and break down some barriers for those with mental illness. I write out of need and complete joy, which I hope to convey throughout my blogs. The human experience is not exclusive to one group. I hope to appeal to most as I touch on some pretty heady material with some self-deprecating humor and raw emotion thrown in for good measure. I have four amazing children, one HUGE dog and a tolerant husband. I am blessed.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s