The Bumbling Slog

  1. I try to find humor in my clumsiness.
  2. Most the time I do, but lately it just makes me feel incompetent and self conscious
  3. I start a new job soon.
  4. Recently horses feel like more of a habit than a passion.  I think I am in a phase.
  5. Yesterday we celebrated future husband day.
  6. I got my wedding dress back and Michael’s wedding ring.
  7. So I bought him flowers (inside joke) and made him cinnamon buns :)
  8. Tomorrow I leave for a few days to see my best friend.  SO excited!!
  9. I have a lot of adult things going on :(
  10. Leggings are pants.

Recently

The dark nights feel closer

Moments hidden unraveling

Recently it all feels so real again.

The nightmares never really end

I can’t handle the pain that brought me to my knees.

Recently the walls are closing in

I can’t breathe

I am drowning

Even when you are here with me

Not really here?

Raw abandonment

Though your face is in mine

Your hands exploring unbidden

Uninvited.

Recently ugly scars are resurfacing.

It will never be the first time again

Hating you again.

Loving you….

Always

Recently I am learning this new cycle

A new circle with the same hurt

The anger and rage

Protecting my rejection

Recently, through it all,

I am still strong.

The Bumbling Slog

  1. I do ab workouts all day every day….picking up everything I drop.
  2. The doctor pulled two vials of fluid from my knee.  They are testing it.
  3.  I am watching Election with Reese Witherspoon….interesting lol
  4. I am not sure what to say :/
  5. I have some me dates planned this weekend.  Michael has some gaming plans.
  6. I want to see the movie Joy.
  7. The grounds guys are mowing….now I can’t hear the movie.
  8. Yesterday I ran out to my car in my onesy…in broad daylight in our apartment complex.  It is a wonder woman onesy.
  9. The stray cat we have been feeding turned into three…and now one of them scratches the door when she is hungry :/
  10. This morning I got shocked because I stepped on my charger and it broke off…it was dark so I went to pick it up and my hand hit the prongs in the plug and I got shocked.
  11. I could really use some sleep :)
  12. I think I am going to stop watching this movie its kind of strange.

The Porch

I had a dream, it was someone else it would seem.

She was like a mother and there was a little girl daughter.

They sat on the porch.

Little child’s heart was scorch.

As she told the mother, so distant.

About the heavy-hearted elephant.

She had thought long and hard to share her pain like a get well soon card.

Her feelings were rushed, when they were away hushed.

Little girl daughter, shared her hurt with mother.

And she said being so informal was totally normal.

Her fear was dismissed and now she was pissed.

Keep trying to quit asking why but I keep trying to fly.

And my roots want to wear boots.

I have had a glassy stare my soul to bare.

The words of the mother made me stay quiet to the daughter.

A piece of me is now free.

As I see the mother became me.

Dear little one, my heart you have won.

It was tragic how she stole your magic.

All the bricks now crumble as I fumble.

My way through the rubble.

To play with you and blow a bubble.

I will sit with you on the porch, your heart to un-scorch.

We walk out of this shame and self-blame.

Oh how I love you.

These moments too few.

I understand why you flew.

I make a commitment.

Love! Love!

I will stay with you, I want to play.

Through all this grieving, your flowers I am still weaving.

You’ll be my dear friend until no end.

Join me in loyalty darling.

We are sterling.

I place the flowers on your head, everything said.

Within the deep, promise to keep.

One another like mother and daughter.

Now we sigh, evening is nigh.

We bow and step within each other now.

 

 

 

Poetry

I used to do poetry slams in 2013.

In fact I used to do open mic night every Wednesday where I read my poems out loud.

It was a way I gave voice to all the turmoil that was happening within me.  For years I actually hated poetry I didn’t understand it.  It was a slow but sudden journey that revealed the language of poetry to me as I started seriously journaling, traveling, and counseling to get to know myself more.

It was really beautiful at first.  And then I started to go deep and my pain came out.  My silly cute poems began to turn dark.  Shock and rage, anger, confusion, and utter brokenness.  I couldn’t stop writing, all the time it was flowing out of me as I sobbed.

Only two people knew my pain, I could only reach them by phone.  I spent most of my time alone.  It spiraled for about a year and I quit writing, quit going to the poetry readings.  I ended up in the hospital due to my depression in 2014.

Since then I have written poems here and there, but I haven’t kept them.  I possess a reverent fear of poetry.  How powerful it is and what it brings out in me.  There remains the fear of what was happening during the poetry.  Flashbacks, fear, tears, and despair.  I am hoping now as I venture into it again my stronger base of support and awareness will hold me tightly.

 

 

Please Don’t

Please don’t fix me when broken is where I need to be.

The iridescent glass shattered across the floor.

Rainbow shadows for every tear.

Leave the broom.

Don’t sweep it up.

No super gluing.

The edges no longer fit.

Just let them be scattered.

Please don’t find me when missing is where I need to be.

The last puzzle piece silent here with me.

In the corner we hide.

The full picture delicately denied.

Please don’t pick me up when fallen is where I need to be.

Face in the dirt.

Knowing I belong to Earth.

Salt, water, and soil.

Simplicity for solid ground.

When my legs have become oil.

Please don’t clean the scratches from my records, when skipping beats is what I want.

Songs with no endings.

Lyrics half finished.

Words linger that never had a tune.

Please don’t remember me when forgotten is what I need to be.

Put the veil back over my face.

Things remembered, please erase.

Don’t call my name.

Hide me from all this disgrace.

Anonymous is my plea.

Please don’t tell me I am right when wrong is what I want to be.

I no longer support intuition, instincts, and following the signs.

Give me mindless dissociation.

Laughter for pretend.

And let me roam these soft white clouds.

Please don’t help me off the ladder when miles high is what I want to be.

I will make a new resolution.

Start another revolution.

Distraction, lack of passion.

Disappear inside of any institution.

Please don’t let me believe the unbelievable.

Because if you do.

Santa lost his magic.

Jesus never left the tomb.

And Christmas never happens.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Self-Hatred

It is my biggest battle, hating myself.

I don’t know what the specific cause is yet.  Where it is rooted.  I am definitely trying to work through it.  My fiance is truly wonderful at loving me through it.

I always heard you have to love yourself before someone else can love you.  Its just cruel people say this.  I think if you are actively working on loving yourself then you are healthy enough to share that journey with someone.  Because learning to love yourself is a constant journey…there is no finish line.  Now there are times people are so damaged they need to lay some ground work.

This is part of my story.  I have journal entries and blog posts about this struggle.  All I can say is I am doing the best I can do.  I have learned a lot and I am grateful for that.

Inspired Heartache

Inspired, always by heartache

To write a line instead of hurl myself in a lake.

Never past it,

This circle of hate and love.

My self loathing

deeper etched than even I knew.

It always comes back to you.

Our story of fear, betrayal and denial.

Ignorance was bliss until I had to hide the knives

and sleep on floors with the bruises.

I can only blame you for so long

Apparently I am an adult

and I am responsible for myself.

The wounded child within

still cries for a peaceful end.

I can’t give up but I can’t seem to mend

Stuck in paradox, limbo

the purgatory of no more faith.

Inspired always by heartache

I no longer want to dance at my own wake.

*This is the first full poem I have written, kept, and shared in almost two years. Thank you for reading*

 

 

 

 

The Bumbling Slog

  1.  I am off work today….finally.
  2. This week was long, exhausting, and hard.
  3. We are on lock down at the assisted living place due to a virus, more work….more grossness.
  4. While I was riding the horses at the barn one of them got spooked by a four wheeler going by and I got thrown pretty hard. So I have been in a world of pain all week.
  5. I have my appointment with an orthopedic surgeon today about my right knee that I injured in November.
  6. I have been watching Nashville constantly the past 24 hours.  It is nice not to have to go into work.
  7. I strap the ice pack on my back by tying a pair of sweatpants around my waist to keep it on.
  8. I love my goofy fiance.  He is my Michael. I am lucky to be with him.  He is handsome and clever and adorable…..and no I am not sucking up he actually doesn’t even read my blog.

The Butterfly

I came for you yesterday, but you were no longer waiting.

I wandered outside to see an open cocoon, somehow I knew it was too soon.

I saw half fluttering wings and I heard the tinkling of angel tears as they fell.

A deep rage entered me as I knew what I must do.

I held the lovely and suffering delicately in my hand.

It breathed its last breath as I closed my palm.

You would have asked why.

I am telling you I did not want to but it was so hurt, beyond repair.

I dug its grave with my bare hands and sang a lullaby of sorrow.

Then I watered it with my own eyes.

When I rose from my knees you were standing there.

The silence was respectful.

Sacred almost.

I knew you wanted to teach me patience.

To learn that sometimes we need time to heal.

Maybe we could have saved the butterfly.

I will never know now.

You are too kind to tell me what I did was wrong.

You just smile.

You have me sit with you on the hammock.

And you know how awful I feel; your tiny hands hold mine.

You gently trace each outline of my scars.

I watch your little legs swing back and forth as you peacefully hum a melody.

And I drift to sleep in awe of your wisdom and how your voice resonates within, melting every bitter regret.