6:13am.

Here I sit.
Wondering if today is the day I’ll make good on breaking my habit.
To choose to live again.

When you lose so much, so fast, sometimes the only answer is to stop.
Everything.

Perfect? No.
Human? Yes.

Pushing through menial bullshit becomes its own kind of hell.
And when you’ve lost what brought you out of despair?
Pushing through menial bullshit becomes unbearable.

So, you stop.
You focus on breathing.
On getting through each moment without losing more.

But you lose sense of yourself sometimes.
You lose connection with others.
You regress into the smallest version of you—
Drawing inward, pulling in toes and elbows.
Hoping that nothing else clips them.
That no one else notices you.

Until you stop noticing you.

Isolating yourself can be an act of mercy.
Drop the mask.
Stop pretending to be fine.
Feel the relief of not having to perform from an empty shell.

But we’re not meant to stay that way.

Isolation becomes a tomb.
Outside, life keeps happening.
Inside, momentum stalls.

And your thoughts circle like vultures.
Picking away at your sense of self.

You find something to pass the time.
Like time is your enemy.
When each moment can carry more pain than you can bear.

You look away.
Trying to protect any part of you that’s left.

But this is all a lie.

Each moment can bring pain…
But it can also bring relief.

Shutting away from the pain only promises one thing:
That’s all there is.

And it’s there to greet you every time you try to poke your head out.

And you lose the parts of you that help you see through it, see beyond it.

They get picked away by those vultures.

And when everything else is loss…
When everything else is losing—

Everyone else is losing?

Fear settles in for the stay.

Because everything hurts.
So damn much.
Tuck in tighter.
Hiding under blankets.

Longing for light.
Fearing the light.

But this cycle can be disrupted.
Can be broken.

It’s not some magic spell.

It’s about allowing discomfort.
Allowing things to be weird for a bit.

Pulling back those blankets.
Letting your eyes adjust to the brightness.
Letting your body stretch once more.

Taking up space.
Even when you’re scared.
Especially when you’re scared.

Allowing others in again.
It’s all about people.

Everything that’s worth anything in this world is about connection.

Some will hurt you.
Some are hurting and that’s all they know how to do.

Let it go.

Own what’s yours and still choose to walk forward.
Even as the ground beneath you shakes.

Others will reach out.
Take their hands and let them help you.

Choose to trust.
Choose to live.
Choose to move forward.

Even when your steps falter.
Even as your breath shakes within you.
Even when the ground swells upward.

The choice is always yours.

Choose life.

— Liora

Looking back, I think of you
and all the dreams you spoke.

Eldest brother, strong and true,
but on life’s shore, you broke

Early on, you ran away
and left us to chase you.

Never in line, life astray,
always seeking the new.

Precious, mercurial soul—
never quite understood.

Always fighting young and old—
all the muster you could.

Through the cracks in your armor,
I saw you, so alone.

Life just kept growing harder,
all of your pain unknown.

Numbing down your impulses—
buried under a haze.

Loss multiplied your illness—
you were on borrowed days.

But I still always recall
your unique point of view.

In your humor, you would freefall,
making me laugh with you.

Days grew darker, too, your need—
nothing could fulfill it.

Beside you, I walked, to plead—
never to outwill it.

Eight long years, coming up fast—
time moves in such strange ways.

Your life, never meant to last—
I think of what you’d say.

You’d crack a joke, so highbrow—
wait for my reaction.

I’d laugh and stop; raise my brow—
subtlety, in action.

You’d gently tease, light banter—
waiting for my response.

Your expectations tampered
down by your nonchalance.

Many ways, we’d disagree,
still always come around.

Forever our guarantee,
our love always profound.

Author’s Note:

The saying “Never go to bed angry” comes to mind. My oldest brother and I had a very complex relationship—there was so much love, but so much damage between the two of us. We could be thick-as-thieves but were often at odds. His time came during a moment we weren’t really talking much. Out of all my losses, this one has been the hardest for me to process. Too many unsaid words lay between us. An ocean of regret.

And one thing about him was his wicked sense of humor. The man was brilliant. When he left, my own sense of humor retreated into the shadows. I felt I’d never laugh again. So, I haven’t really been able to write about him until now, fearing I would somehow fail. This isn’t the final word on him, his life, and his legacy. But it’s a start.
— Liora

So many times,
I’ve rushed in circles—
trying so hard to breathe.

So excited
to share what I’d done;
hoping for space to be.

Only to find
half-hearted side-eye—
where did I go so wrong?

Did I screw up—
or make a mistake?
Should I just move along?

I see others
who’ve done so much less
received with so much love.

No matter hills,
obstacles surpassed—
seems I can’t rise above.

I grow so tired—
succeeding to fail;
why should I even try?

I feel gutted—
broken beyond help;
in my heart, I won’t lie.

Am I too much?
Or just not enough?
Will they ever come ‘round?

Crawl in my box—
the one I’m assigned;
silence, my only sound.

No, that’s not right—
I will not spiral;
I will not cave to doubt.

I will stand tall,
try my very best.
Don’t you dare count me out.

I am so strong
in so many ways—
I’ve survived more than this.

But to survive
is not to live free—
and so I now seek bliss.

A need for change
across all levels—
shifts I’m making today.

I will start small
but trust in myself—
a new path mine to brave.

Now, the first step—
believing in me;
this, the base for all else.

Speaking kindly,
within my own mind,
this is what really helps.

Give myself grace
whenever I need—
barriers start with me.

Tear them all down,
just one at a time—
stride now toward living.

Author’s Note:

This piece came from that familiar pressure point where doubt and determination collide. It’s not about breaking through in some dramatic way — just choosing not to shrink, even when the weight pushes hard. If you’ve stood in that space yourself, I hope this meets you where you are. —Liora

Ten Years to the Day

So today is here. And I’m feeling feelings.

Ten years.

In some ways it doesn’t seem possible.
In others… my body and soul feel like much more time has passed.

Mom found him when she came downstairs that morning.
She pulled him out of the chair, to the floor, to perform CPR.

He was gone.

I had been drinking the night before.
2am hate texts from the mother of one of my kid's friends.
They were all so very broken.

The call came.
It was around 0530.

I was not in the headspace to receive it.

She called me from his phone.

I thought it was just Steve having some weird thought.
In my stupor, I silenced it.
I would have called him when I got up.
I was not an early bird at that time.
She called two more times before I answered.
In irritation, “what the hell?”

And my world crashed.

I didn’t really have words.
I quietly mumbled I would get dressed and drive up immediately.

The tears came in the shower.

Then unreality set back in.
Had to mom my kids.
Had to mom my mother.

I didn’t even want to be in her house.
I remember being so freaked out.
Just sitting around the place where he had died.
Hours before.

Like it was normal.
Like anything was normal.

Read more

Do you ever get overwhelmed by everything?

Does the endless tide of possibilities ever just become too much for you?

For me, it’s a daily struggle.

Sometimes I long for the days when life seemed much simpler.

There’s so much I want to do and just as much that demands my attention.

I’ve been through hell and processing it all is still a massive part of my journey.

Healing isn’t linear.

It feels like an uphill climb over rocky terrain on a trail that is riddled with switchbacks and detours… and often disappears entirely.

Sometimes I lose sight of where I’m going.

Read more

So you—
to end on a joke;
you couldn’t have planned
better if you tried.

Last visit—
digging through storage,
to give you some things
you needed more than I.

So hot—
your face was flushed red.
I begged you to sit
and on me to count.

You scoffed,
did what you wanted;
you’d already lost
way too much ground.

Read more

This piece is part of Through the Fire: Volume I, The Pressure. If this resonates, know there’s more where this comes from… just deeper, rawer, and waiting.

How callous a system that views her people
And decides who’s gold and who’s trash
While we project our thoughts and beliefs
Our future is burning to ash

Weaponizing opinion, throwing shade around
We never look in the mirror
Too busy clowning on everyone else
Can I make it any clearer?

Read more

Growing up, I always knew
The meaning of common sense
Such a constant, known by all
It stood on no pretense

Read more