"Beauty in Vulnerability," by Laihha Organna

I’ve experienced hunger, poverty—broken flip-flops-duct-taped-to-my-feet kind of poverty. Abuse: physical, verbal, and emotional and a never-ending cycle. Poison, the drugs and alcohol kind. The kind where your mother’s heart stops over and over. Yet she lives, holding on by a thread. Not for her children, and not for herself but just for more poison. The kind of poison she loved so much that she shared with my sweet sisters in the womb, one of them born with a lethal combination of alcohol and meth in her veins. The kind of poison that sounds like angry voicemails from my father, the kind of poison that dressed the beautiful hearts of my parents in disguise, never to be seen again.

The kind of poison that made me the girl with homeless parents. The kind of poison that took my father’s life. The kind of poison that I call abandonment. Abandonment that sounds like Mom saying, “I’ll be back for dinner,” and then not seeing her for three whole years. The kind of abandonment that looks like an empty seat at graduation. The kind of abandonment that looks like missed calls and texts left unread. A lack of power, self-worth, and utter abandonment left me to pick up the pieces of my being, attempting to put myself back together without any glue.

“Why me? Why couldn’t I be like everyone else,” I asked? Until I realized, I don’t ever want to be like anyone else. That path was never meant for me. I stopped sucking it up all the time, trying to be strong for those around me. I found beauty in vulnerability. I found confidence through my story and its ability to empower others. One day, I decided it was time to rewrite my story. It was time to create my life. And that my lack was not who I was.

Listen the entirety of Laihha’s first podcast—and many to come—at: https://www.stitcher.com/podcast/laihha-mossnovak/your-fire-ignited?refid=stpr