Beautiful Things

My name is Geri. I have to tell these stories. I tell them because when I was younger I looked for someone to speak big words full of big meanings. I desperately needed someone to tell me what is true and raw and unabashedly freeing. A handful of treasured loved ones spoke out when I was young but it was far too few.

I have become my own someone. I can not help but wonder if there are magic words out there. Magic words that could have been shared with me when I was a skinny dirty ten year old. Words that could have freed me, woke me up, alerted me to the awful truths that I would hide from all of my life. Maybe if I had heard these magic words I would not have spent forty years trying to figure out why I am broken. Maybe if someone had said this is abuse and that is cruelty. Maybe if someone had looked at my childhood life and gasped in horror I would have understood why everything felt so horrible.

Maybe there are no magic words and nothing could have saved me from the confusion that has marked my life. But just in case there are magic words, I have to tell these stories. Just in case you need to hear something true and raw and freeing, I have to tell these stories. Just in case you need someone to speak big words full of big meanings, I have to tell these stories. This blog is devoted to re-purposing hurt, my hurt. I can’t pretend that all my stories are cute or funny anymore. But, if even one person feels less alone because of my truths then my pain and journey will have found purpose as one of the beautiful things.

Welcome to the reinvention of Geri and the Beautiful Things.