The Good in the Bad

By Sahara Rachelle

Good in the Bad is a collection of poetry about healing and self-empowerment. It's a story told backwards and semi-autobiographical as it follows the author on her journey of self-discovery while dealing with past trauma. The rest remains unwritten, but the future is endless. It's never too late to go back to improve within.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 12, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667817347

Book preview

I. Renewal

Dear Younger Self

Dear younger self, I know the world is vast and overwhelming, but I want to share something with you that took me years to learn.

One, don’t let anyone tell you how to live your life, even the people that brought you into this world.

Two, the lack of love others show to you doesn’t make love unattainable for you.

Three, you are worth loving yourself. You need to slow down and show some appreciation for the woman you are.

Naked

Naked, adjective, (of a person or part of the body) without clothes; however, this isn’t the only meaning this word possesses. It could also mean you’re exposed to harm, unprotected, or vulnerable. One word, two very different meanings, we all come into this world physically naked. To be emotionally naked gets more challenging as you age.

It’s crazy to think that people can come into your life and see you physically naked, but never emotionally. Whatever the circumstance may be, a lover you didn’t emotionally connect with, a one night stand, or arms you run to when you need comforting by a physical body to avoid being lonely. We are all guilty of having at least one person that has only seen us bare in the physical sense. While the naked body is beautiful because everyone has their frame, they fit perfectly into that’s unique to them. Sex can be as meaningful or as meaningless as you make it. It could be just two bodies colliding into each other, or it could be two hearts intertwining into a burst of physical passion.

I understand why myself and others have been guilty of hiding behind physical nakedness due to not wanting someone to associate you only with the scars you carry on your person or the ones embedded within your morale. However, there comes a time, and I just reached this point in my life very recently that I don’t want to hide behind my body or a mask that I carry to cover who I am. Not that my physical appearance isn’t worth praise, beauty is in the eye of the beholder after all. I believe now deep within me, something so strongly that it resonates within my whole body that my emotional nakedness is worth being on display to the people I love.

I want my emotional intelligence to be on the showroom floor, like an art gallery. Where one can see what lines and strokes I have made in each painting that I call different chapters of my life. I want my loved ones to be my art critics, to be able to correct me when I’m wrong, to praise me when I have succeeded, and inspire me to continue to paint instead of me putting down the brush. I want to be seen for all that I am and all that I am not.

I want to be naked.

I Love my Body

I love my body, every curve, every scar, every imperfection. It won’t ever match up to the world’s expectation of beauty, but I don’t care. I used to waste my time obsessing over the little things I couldn’t change, like my height, scars, and square face. Over time, I learned to love everything I hated. I’m not saying my body will ever be perfect, but it’s perfect to me. Anyone I allow into my synagogue should consider themselves blessed because I am a priceless deity. I have only one body, one life; I may not be the most feminine woman, but what I got is worth being treasured.

I love my body, the hot girl coach said it best, and I will no longer be sorry for being a confident woman. No longer will I apologize to the world for being myself. You take me or leave me; either way, I will be fine.

I love my body, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

No Identity

"You’re the whitest Mexican I’ve ever met."

"You aren’t a real Hispanic; you don’t even speak Spanish."

"You aren’t white enough."

Over the years of being on this planet, I have been told these things in one form or another. I didn’t think my race had to be my whole personality until I reached high school. Even though these were comments I laughed at in front of others, no one realized how badly these words affected me.

Being someone who would consider themselves adopted, I wasn’t raised traditionally Hispanic; I had a mixture of Vietnamese and Irish backgrounds I was exposed to. I never learned to speak Spanish, and I love Asian cuisine and culture. So, people that didn’t know my upbringing thought it was okay to cast me out of being either white or Hispanic. I was too "Mexican to be white, and I was too white" to be Mexican. I couldn’t win either way. So, I felt like I didn’t have an identity because I was not entirely in touch with the Caucasian or Hispanic parts of me. It took years to look in the mirror to be proud of the Bi-Racial woman I am.

No, my family isn’t a traditional family. We are a blended family, but what others fail to see is the love I have for them. My mom is Vietnamese, born in Vietnam, and came to America as a child. My dad, born in Dallas, Texas, and he is 100% Caucasian, but he chose to love his