blog, blogger, blogging, culture, life, writer, writing

New York

I’ll never forget that moment…the day, the time, what I was doing, this is a memory deeply embedded in my mind.

That Tuesday morning was a typical morning…getting up, dressed, breakfast was eaten then I began my school work. See, I was 16 and just began homeschooling due to losing my sight and being a full semester behind. In order to catch up and graduate on time my parents enrolled me in a charter high school. This allowed me to not only get caught up, but to finish school a full semester ahead of my class. This also ensured that technically no school was missed when needing to be at doctors appointments or while in surgeries.

Trigonometry, this was the subject that was educating my brain. The time was 9:17am, my thought process was interrupted by the phone. Three rings in and I answer it to hear my Dad’s voice on the receiving end.

Dad…”Hey kiddo, how’s your day so far?”

Me…”Pretty good, just doing some trig. What’s up?”

Dad…”Turn on the news kiddo, and prepare yourself.”


While the big screen picture was a blur, the voices of newscasters were crystal clear. Every channel, one breaking news headline…

A hijacked plane just crashed into one of the Twin Towers in New York.

My heart sunk into the pit of my stomach, tears welled up in my eyes, my voice brokenly asking my Dad, “Who did this?” Him replying with that word made me shake.


As he told me to not worry about my schoolwork, to just take the day, I was in another state of mind. My young mind was trying to fathom how anyone could perform this horrible act, why anyone would perform this horrible act. Then my mind shifted to lives that were in danger, the lives lost. While I have always been told that I was the 16 year old going on 30, my mind just couldn’t handle the immensity of this tragic crime that my ears were absorbing. My heart was already in a fragile state, this just broke it right down the center.

My heart holds a special place for New York, the diverse culture, the people, the New York atmosphere is just beautiful. Back in 2006, my Mom and I spent a few days in NY, we signed up for a tour of Manhattan. Walking the city with a group, our guide sharing facts from historical to pop culture and everything in between. From seeing the infamous bull statue on Wall Street to Trinity Church. Along the way we made our way to Ground Zero. Standing there, I just froze. The emotional state I entered was unfamiliar territory, I was trying to soak it all in. The tour guide was speaking, however, all I heard was a buzzing in my ears. To also see the plaques, the faces and names of the brave humans who rushed in to help, to rescue. To see the names of those lost souls.

I have witnessed so many life changing moments in my 33 years of existence, However, none have ever compared to Tuesday, September 11, 2001.

Never Forget. ❤

In New York, concrete jungles where dreams are made of, there’s nothin’ you can’t do…These streets will make you feel brand new, big lights will inspire you. Let’s hear it for New York… -Jay-Z ft. Alicia Keys

blogging, culture, death, life, mental health, music, writing

The “S” Word

This life is definitely not for the faint at heart. This life is a whirlwind of luminosity and darkness, however when that darkness sneaks in it becomes all we can see. The light seems burnt out and we feel as though there’s nothing left, that we have nothing left in us. This life, in all of its beautiful chaos, is worth living. 💛

Never silence someone’s depression, anxiety or suicidal thoughts. I understand that these topics may be uncomfortable for you to discuss, but please remember…your discomfort is our reality…your discomfort doesn’t outweigh our lives.

Talk…listen…support. 💛

I know who I truly am, I truly do have a chance…I’m fairly local, I’ve been around, I’ve seen the streets you’re walkin’ down… -Twenty One Pilots

blogging, creative writing, life, writer, writing

I am a Sick Girl

Who am I? This three worded question seemed so daunting and unanswerable for most of my life. Far too much time was wasted tearing myself apart in trying to be what everyone else wanted me to be, too much time was lost staring into the mirror at an unrecognizable reflection.

My name is Derra and I was born with a rare disorder, EB. From day one of entering into this beautifully chaotic world my forehead was engraved with the “Damaged” label and just as quick as I was awarded a birth certificate, I was also cursed with my death certificate. Fourteen, that was the amount of years the doctors and statistics allotted to me as my life span. From day one my Mom could tell that I was a fighter, that I would outlive all of those so called “statistics”.

Growing up is hard enough, especially in this day and age where hate seems to be outranking love. Throughout school I was teased and bullied, I was labeled and torn apart, all because of this curse I was born with, all of because of certain circumstances that I had not one ounce of control over. I knew that I was born different, but aren’t we all? I knew that I was born broken, but aren’t we all? Not one of us was born into this world perfect. Whether it is physical, mental or emotional, we all have a glitch.

It’s crazy how we are able to understand and apply the fact that “perfection” is an unattainable concept yet we can’t fathom the fact that there is no such concept as “normal”, that we are all “different”. Being Different is looked at as a downside, being different means that you don’t fit in, you don’t belong.

As a kid I loved that I was different, but I could never understand why other kids bullied me for that. As a teenager the bullying escalated causing a storm to build inside of my mind that I wasn’t in any way prepared for. Depression hit hard, suicidal thoughts hit harder. I morphed from being a happy, nerdy girl into a pain filled teenager. Days were spent simply going from class to class, dodging certain teens. Nights were spent silently crying myself to sleep, silently praying that I wouldn’t wake up the next morning. Two months before graduation, I took it into my own hands of ending the pain that saturated my bones and veins. I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want this world to think that it was victorious with my defeat…I just wanted to stop hurting, to stop believing that I was damaged, that I was worthless. I just wanted the pain to disappear.

Even into my early twenties, depression still lurked about. A toxic concoction of zero confidence, bad relationships, health issues and still with the fact that I couldn’t recognize my own reflection made for one messed up human. I was unresponsive to life, something had to give. Three months before turning Thirty, Death and I came face to face again. Death was one aspect of life that I never feared, he and I had already met a few times previously, so we were already well acquainted with one another. This though, it was real, a different real. A grab you by the heart and pull the plug kinda real. Your eyes open differently when your life is being held at a metaphorical gun point. The news broke me down in a Denny’s parking lot, my life replayed itself two days later while in the presence of sand and ocean.

I was born with a rare disorder, a disorder that should’ve taken my life a long time ago, yet here I am. I have beat every medical statistic thrown in my face. I survived through a childhood filled with endless doctors appointments, surgeries and nightmare filled slumber. I survived those teenage years filled with bullies, depression, losing my sight and going through more surgeries to get it back (that was a crazy two years, my world literally went dark), suicidal thoughts and one scary as shit attempt. I spent my twenties rebuilding myself with the pieces I had left and adding a few new ones. Along the way revisiting my dark place due to the loss of my Popee and one hellish relationship I should’ve never been in. Then came that one final storm that inevitably hit hard, causing me to believe that this was my end. All of these trials, these infamous curveballs that life through at me and I actually made it to Home plate. I guess Death isn’t truly quite ready for me.

So, who am I? I am Derra Sabo, a writer, a daughter, a sister, a friend, a foodie, a beach baby, a forever fan of Fall Out Boy, a coffee addict, a bookworm, a music maniac… a 100% Grade A California chica who was never meant to live, but did. I am a beautiful disaster.

Girls like her were born in a storm. They have lightning in their souls, thunder in their hearts and chaos in their bones… -Nakita Gill

blog, blogger, blogging, creative writing, culture, life, Uncategorized, writer, writing

Shame On Me

Hey guys, one of my best friends and I collaborated on this blog idea. Brandi and I wrote about self love. Please make sure you head over to her blog and check out her piece & amazing work. She is such a talented writer.

Something ain’t right inside of me… -MGK

Shame on me for having freckles that are sporadically speckled all over my body. Shame on me for having scars that intermingle with certain areas on my body. Shame on me for not having a perfect human form that is beautifully tan and unblemished.

Shame on me for having a physical disorder that has left behind evidence of surgeries. Shame on me for being a size zero in jeans, I must having an eating disorder, right. Shame on me for not being the perfect specimen that society prefers I’d be in order to be deemed acceptable.

Shame on me…

I became such a strange shape tryin’ to fit in… -FOB

Shame on me for finding contentment within myself, with my body. Shame on me for loving my porcelain freckled skin. Shame on me for being proud of my scars, for they are the proof that I have survived many battles, both physical and mental. Shame on me for tarnishing my body with inky pictures that describe certain parts of my life’s story.

Shame on me for having an appetite for all different types of cuisine, including delicious carbs. Shame on me for being born into this world damaged and loving that fact.

Shame on me for loving humans for who they are, for their intellectual minds, their kind hearts and beautiful souls. Shame on me for not judging someone because of their imperfections.

Shame on me for going against the grain, for thinking outside the box, for standing up for what’s right and shame on me for starting a fire and continually adding fuel to it.

Shame on me…

Sing it for the boys, sing it for the girls…sing it out for the ones that will hate your guts… sing it for the world…MCR

blog, blogging, life, writer, writing

Say Something

Say something…

Why is it that our brains second guess our thoughts, why does it mix doubts into our intentions causing our jaws to go into lockdown mode when we gather the courage to speak up…to say something?

Whether we are wanting to right a wrong…

Whether we are wanting to stomp out critics and bullies…

Whether we are wanting to speak up about a cause…

Whether we are wanting to defend a friend, family member or ourselves…

Or, whether we are wanting to confess our feelings for someone…or wanting to end the current relationship we’re in…

Speaking up…saying something is one of the most difficult aspects in life. Time is spent thinking of what we want to say to whom we want to say it to. Time is spent articulating our words as perfectly as possible and every time we play it out in our minds, our courage is morphing those words into actions, until…

Until that very last second hits, that’s when chaos breaks loose in our brains. Every doubt creeps from out of the cracks and haults the brakes causing a chain reaction of second guesses. So, more times than not what do we do.. ?

We remain on the sidelines trying to convince ourselves that saying something will only cause more bad than good.

Saying something won’t make those critics and bullies realize that their words and actions are damaging…

Saying something won’t shine more light on a certain cause, it won’t aid in hopefully ending these stifling stigmas…

Saying something to the person we have feelings for, no good will come from that because of whatever excuses we’ve conjured up…

Saying something won’t change anything…


We waste so much time living in the “shoulda, coulda, woulda” spectrum and because of that we miss out on so many opportunities. Opportunities that could have altered our lives for the better, altered our world for the better, altered us for the better.

One chance…one risk…saying something…

The best advice I was ever given was this, “the dumbest thing you could ever say is the one thing you never say…”

If you can’t get it out of your mind, then there’s a reason for that.

Say something…

I hope the roof flies off and you get blown out into space, I always make such expensive mistakes… -Fall Out Boy

blog, blogger, blogging, culture, life, relationships, writer, writing


It’s crazy… I feel like more of an outcast in a community that I’m supposed to feel belonged in than I do as a human residing in the rest of the world.

Judgement is felt more amongst “my people” than it is from those who see me purchasing my Starbucks and shopping at Target.

I find myself more and more curious as to why that is…

Maybe it’s because I am a rebel.

The one who chooses to defy the statistics…the one who chooses to share my story in hopes of helping others rather than play the “victim” to gain free advancements.

Maybe it is because I live my life according to my own views rather than remain trapped inside ORs as the surgeon’s guinea pig because he knows what’s best.

Or, maybe it is mainly because I choose to find the silver lining at the end of a shitty day, knowing that tomorrow is a fresh start, rather than pull everyone into my shit storm so they’ll feel sorry for me.

So, if I don’t fit into “your world” then where do I fit in…where do I belong…

I fit into the smiles and laughter of my family and friends. I fit into the star studded universe where my Guardian Angel resides, watching over me. I fit into these bones of mine that are made up of molecules from my ancestors. I fit into the empty space inside of my future love’s heart.

I belong right here, amongst the sand, the ocean and this cotton candy sunset.

I am a rebel.

Jumpsuit, Jumpsuit cover me… -Twenty One Pilots

blog, blogger, blogging, creative writing, culture, life, writer, writing

Alls Fair in The Ripple Effect


That word above is one that we practice on a daily basis. Life is strung together by the series of choices we make, each one altering the direction we take on our paths.


You are in charge of every choice you make, you are the only one who chooses what pebble will create your life’s ripple.


I have made both positive and negative choices throughout my life thus far, each shifting the effect of every ripple. The most important and impactful choice I have ever made was to never allow others actions towards me taint my feelings towards the world. Tainted emotions equals vengeful behavior. As someone who was bullied throughout school, as someone who was dealt a somewhat difficult situation in life, I could have easily chosen to allow the anger and hurt that was a constant during that time to poison my outlook and actions towards society. I could’ve easily taken my past and morphed it into an infinite excuse in order to disrespect and pull everyone into a bitter pity party.

But, I don’t.


Because I know first hand what it feels like to be mistreated, how it eats at your brain causing your confidence and self-esteem to diminish. I know how quickly the hurt, the depression, the worthlessness and the tear filled pain fills into every nook and cranny of your body.

I wouldn’t place nor wish that upon anyone, not even my worst enemy.

I know how just the mere thought of revenge can suck up your time, your energy. How it becomes this black toxic that invades your veins, you’ve become Peter Parker in SpiderMan 2.

Having that amount of pain residing within my bones nearly snuffed out my life candle. Never again do I want to feel that shitty.

I choose to find the silver lining, the be a better version of myself, to ignore the arrogance of my peers. I choose which battles are worth fighting, I carefully select which pebble I toss to create that ripple.

No matter what curveballs are thrown at you…No matter how many incomplete passes you encounter and No matter how many humans throw a dirty punch at you in attempts to knock you down, you have a choice as to how you react. You choose what type of energy you place towards others, towards the world.

You have a choice…

So what’s it going to be…?

Second things second don’tcha tell me what you think that I should be, I’m the one at the sail, I’m the master of my sea… -Imagine Dragons