Monday, December 25, 2017

Crows

Restless.
Mind won't turn off.
The vigilant hum of the purifier normally helps woo me to sleep.

Sweet, gentle love holds me.
My friend and companion.
But the crows in my head are squawking and flapping their wings.
I asked him when he realized I had mental health problems.
He said I told him right away.
It makes me feel better.
No one should go into a storm unprepared.

I think about how it feels to occupy my own thoughts on the downward spiral.
I observe the hurricane as it approaches.
It's exhilarating and terrible.
I cannot stop it.
But I've learned to give warnings.
"My wheels are spinning. They won't stop. I can't turn it off. I'll try and be better soon."

The messages are the the same. Pointless. Unworthy. Selfish. Angry. Victim. How dare you be a victim? Manipulative. So full of shit. So so selfish. Can't you think about anyone else? Useless. They'd miss you for a while, but they'd be ok. What good can you do? You do nothing. The world is no better for having you in it.  You'd free them.

God damn it! Shut up.

I just want peace.
But why does silence scare me so very much?

I promise I'm trying.
The messages say, "but are you really?"

How does he do it?
How does he keep coming back?
I've seen the fear in his eyes.
It was about 3 years ago.
He's told me that he couldn't promise me he'd stay.
I couldn't blame him.
It was not a lack of love.
In the worst moments neither of us knew what he'd come home to.
We both feared the worst.
That he'd come home to a vacant shell.
Hazy eyes.
Cold.
Unmoving.

And that may be the worst.
But it's not all.
I cry a lot.
Everything hurts.
I crumble.
But he's still here.
Let it sink in.
He's still here.

How did he never run?
How is this worth it?
How could I be worth it?

But even with the crows doing their best to break free, and my longing to quiet them, he stays.
How does he stay?
I'm afraid to ask for fear of jinxing it.
But he's here.
I hope he realizes I see this.

He calms the crows sometimes.
And when he can't he holds me until the storm passes.

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Found gem?

I found this in my drafts and forgot to check when it was written before publishing it.  So I made up a date.  It should be accurate from within a month's span.  *shrug*


There I was, with my cheek pressed into the tufts of bright kelly green grass.  Blades were pushing patterns into my skin.  An ant had made it's way up my arm, over my sleeve, and on my back.  From there it traveled up my neck and started to transverse my scalp, winding it's way through my hair. I did not move.  It paused briefly to rub its antennae with its front legs in an effort to clean the oils and sweat residue from my scalp off so it can perceive more clearly.  It continued on its journey stopping a few more times in an effort to keep itself tidy and "see" better, I presume.  Eventually it finished its trek over my body, finding a blade of grass to climb down.

How long had I been here?  Why was I here?  I could no longer recall.  My eyes stared blankly forward, and slightly skyward.  A monarch meandered across my line of sight.  Pausing to taste the nectar of a nearby, brightly colored flower.  Funny how it was a day like any other butterfly day.  How strange to think it's life will only be about two to six weeks.  How long has it been alive?  How much time did it have left?  I suspect it never gave it much thought.  It just saw that beautiful flower and smelled it's sweet offerings and was drawn in.

I recalled moments in my life, as a young woman, where the sweet nectar of another person made me forget it all.  How long I had been alive; what sort of future lies ahead.  When the warmth of their skin radiated through the thin fabric of their clothes.  The nearness of me made their temperature rise, breathing quicken, skin flush.  Did I know the kind of power I possessed?  Maybe on some cellular level.  A hint of a smile on my lips, pink with arousal.  An eyebrow slightly raised.  I felt the power rush through me.  I felt like a goddess.  One of many amazing moments I wouldn't trade for the world. But inwardly I had to laugh.  Youth is wasted on the young.

I wish I had known so many things.  I called myself fat.  But I wasn't. I had a narrow waist and juicy thighs.  A heart shaped ass and full breasts.  Such inward self hate.  If I could go back I would have held on to my goddess moments.  I'd look in the mirror and see my slightly rounded, but still quite small belly and I'd see it as the soft spot that held my creativity.  I'd see my long, thick hair and loved the small cowlick in the front.  I'd have looked at myself and known I was doing my best to live from a genuine place.  I wouldn't let my differences stab at me and believe the ridicule.  I'd have been kinder all around.

And there I was. Collapsed into odd angles into this clearing.  A chill in the air.  The sun had long since begun it's descent.  In a couple more hours darkness would lie over me, blanketing me in a cool night's breeze.  But for now the last bits of the evening sun warmed my skin.

A bird began to swoop around in big circles.  Languidly letting the currents carry it around and around.  Slowly, it spiraled down and landed about four feet from my still form.  It began to peck the ground, keeping one eye on me.  It's own senses telling it not to trust that this human will continue to remain unmoving.  It appeared to catch a bug or two and then stood there, staring at me, occasionally hopping a half an inch or so in whatever random direction.  It cocked it's head to the side, then back again.  Then it flew to a nearby bush and studied me a bit longer before flying off out of view.

There was something blissful about this.  It had been so long since I had felt this sort of peaceful observance.  I had spent so much of my life over thinking this or that and holding busyness in high esteem.  Intelligence held my value so I had to prove that I was smart and ever the thinker.  But here I was.  My phone not in arm's reach.  Nowhere near WiFi.  The only sounds were that of nature.  Birdsong.  Crickets.  The breeze blowing through the branches of nearby trees.  I don't think I ever appreciated a moment like this quite so much as I did in this very moment.  All the "observing the thought then letting it go" talk by spiritual teachers and the sincere yogis to the pretentious, self absorbed fools. I know because I was one of them.  Stressed out, anxiety filled, insomniac, yet haughty enough to roll my eyes when being coached on what it was to have a "monkey mind".

Why hadn't I enjoyed it all more?  The subtle herbs in my chai this morning, instead of swilling it down on my way to a meeting, more concerned with the caloric content instead of the carefully chosen and measured herbs steeped the perfect amount of time to lend the perfect flavor.  Or the expensive meal I had with some co-workers last Friday.  We were talking about exercise and the sad moms who "let themselves go" and always seemed to be a little "touched" in the head that we saw on our lunch that day.  That's what's happens when you have no goals.  That's what happens when you have no perseverance.  They were cleaning up dirty faces at the playground and we were making our asses look amazing with our brisk walk.

Another example.  I walked by the town center late last fall, talking on the phone about this, that or the other thing, while the Christmas tree lighting.  I stopped at a corner as an older lady, hair graying, looking disheveled, asked with a smile if I was going to go watch.  She mentioned something about a children's choir singing carols.  I smiled, politely, and said how I wish I could, but "..time stops for no one."  I thought I was being polite, but in reality I was being smug.  I was startled by the look of pity on her face.  She returned my thinly veiled condescending smile with a sad smile and a seeing look in her eyes.  I turned it around in my head to her not having any idea what "reality" is like.  In this moment of clarity I realized that she knew I was the one who needed pity.

My consciousness drifted back to each of those moments and saw things I hadn't seen before.

Sunday, July 23, 2017

Mother Mother

Mother Mother
I hear your voice....
....in my mind.



How can I fix these wounds
.. when there's this living, breathing embodiment of my insecurities.
.. my negative voices.
.. everything I think about myself she says about herself.

How can I hope to be okay when I can't change her mind

How can I love myself when I can't convince her to love herself

I push her away, because she is showing me all I hate about my being.

How can I believe "fat" is not the definition of my worth when it is *the* main word she uses to prove her worthlessness.
.. and now my mind isn't as sharp as it once was I'm fulfilling the other part of her *proof* of her lack of value.
.. and I'm aging. Long past maiden, I'm leaving mother behind, and now I wander closer to crone.
.. and my former "cute" fades as the years show on my face.  And the weight with age creates this saggy baggy body.  It's the last key.  The last thing she berates herself with. "ugly"

Fat
and
Stupid
and
Old
and
Ugly

She..
...is me


and I don't just damage myself.

How do I prevent myself from becoming his voice?
.. his insecurities?
.. I want him to llove himself a billion more times more than I could ever manage to love myself.
     ... a trillion more times.

Someone convince him...
... his size doesn't matter. he is more than the sum of his parts.
... his intelligence doesn't matter. his heart is grand beyond what he can hold in his mind.
... his age doesn't matter. he'll be just as vibrant at 101.
... his looks don't matter.  It's just a state of molecules and it can't contain the infinite awesome contained within.

Help him not be me..
.. like I am my mother.


(I tried to delete the second "l" in love like 4 times but it kept reappearing.  I guess it needs to be there.)

Saturday, June 20, 2015

The Desires of Your Heart

I've been trying to sort out the desires of my heart.
I was raised to believe that God hears them.
I've reached a time where I question if there is even a God out there to listen.
I've tried turning it off.
I've tried focusing on the benefits of not having my desires met.
I've tried "coming to terms" with it not happening.
And here I am.
If I indulge in the briefest thought of this happening I'm overwhelmed with by a feeling of love, of joy, of rightness.
I come back to reality, slightly worse for wear.
My heart is just a little broken.
I'm a little scared.
I'm doing what I can to not attach myself to any end result.
Take a deep breath.
And maybe put trust in something you're not sure even exists.

Saturday, January 31, 2015

The One That Got Away

It's been a while. I got crushed by depression but I'm climbing out. Huzzah!

I downloaded this pdf for writer's bootcamp. Today's was "the one that got away". I don't have any of those. I'm with the man I want to be with. So I figured I'd put a different spin on it.

The One That Got Away

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Other People's Poetry

Sometimes it's hits you harder than your own words could.

She Walks in Beauty

By Lord Byron (George Gordon)

 
She walks in beauty, like the night
   Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
   Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
Thus mellowed to that tender light
   Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
   Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
   Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
   How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
   So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
   But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
   A heart whose love is innocent!