HOPE
I see you standing there all sassy and ready to go
Making me think change is possible after all this time
Years of denial broke open like an oyster
Inside mother of pearl
Iridescent not quite shiny but faded shimmer in and out
Done with all the mental mind games
Calling it out
You’re not to blame
YOU
ARE
NOT
TO
BLAME
You’ve got issues of your own to own
Pun intended
Awash with sadness for what might have been
The memories a constant reminder
Should fate have twisted the other way
On that I’ll always ponder 🤔
Often said
there’s a fine line
between
love and hate
between
joys and tears
when all seems lost
up is down
down is up
directions to nowhere
emotions flowing
through her veins
the smell of worry
emits from her pores
incessant thoughts
that just won’t end
time for action
resistance
is futile
acceptance
a dream
Should I worry that I noticed myself wanting to write 2017 when it’s really 2019? Is there a term for that affliction? Where does one draw the line between simple forgetfulness and the beginning of something worse?
Oh my here we go.
I’m sure I’ve got something … worse … Ugh.
I am switching gears because this is my new thing and I can change the direction of my vicious thoughts anytime I want. Besides the sun is back out so I got nothing to be wa wa about.
I had plans today and I’ve completely blown them off in favor of going through my DVR to catch up, writing, surfing, and everything that is not my original plan.
There is something to this brooding, doom and gloom, and serious introspection that I must truly enjoy to my core. Why else would I do it? It’s filling some kind twisted need. And I’m enjoying myself. And maybe doing nothing doesn’t always have to be a pity party? Maybe doing nothing is a form of self-care?
Yep. That’s it. Now I will close with my lame attempt at poetry.
Wallowing in pity
Serves no purpose
Knowing and doing
Are very different things
What will it take?
To spark some reaction
Why does it have
To be this way?
See y’all on the flip side.
As always more to come.
I feel a restlessness
In my soul
Ready for everything
And nothing at all
Caught in a tail spin
Of perfect deception
Time to get moving
Forgive my transgressions
Folks it has been one of those days, weeks, months, or years <insert Friends theme song so they know you’re okay>. Some may know the signs. Good days, bad days, good days, bad days cycling around the hamster wheel of life. I know what to do to break the cycle but my pig headed stubbornness has got me back here. To this place I’d rather not be.
Two people in the last two days told me “Nobody Cares” in response to something I care irrationally but deeply about. Okay then. I admit it. I certainly COULD care less. I certainly SHOULD care less. I certainly want to eat a whole sleeve of effing Oreos.
Then I saw where a FB friend posted about the signs of Perfectly Hidden Depression (PHD). I thought hey, I resemble that remark. I looked further and found this article. In the article is a questionnaire that I took. I scored more than 12 y’all. Boo for me 😦
However I would say that my D is not PH. My D has reared its’ ugly head once or twice upon a time. My current status is power through. In attempts to be treated, I have admitted a few things to a few people and doing so has always backfired on me.
There is such stigma to needing help. I would not wish mental illness on my worst enemy but I do wish everyone could have a preview into that dark world to help garner understanding. “Snap out of it” “Get over it” Well duh? Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? I DID!!! I KNOW!!! But knowing and doing are two different things.
I will close with this. Don’t cry for me Argentina. I am one of the lucky ones. Counting those blessings (classic sign) through gritted teeth. I have a support system (I try very hard not to use said system) but I have one. They are worth more than gold. If you need someone to listen, I am here. We are not alone.
As always, more to come.
Sitting in the metaphorical dirt
That clouds my racing brain
Wondering how I got here
Again and again and again
Nothing seems to work
To keep the doubts at bay
Fear is the only constant
And my tears that I hide away
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know I am not alone. And I know that my “issues” do not surpass anyone else’s. All is relative mi amigos and amigas. For as long as I can remember, my “stuff” wasn’t important. I dealt by making jokes and minimizing my feelings. Why should I complain when what is happening to other people around the world is absolutely atrocious? I mean c’mon. Read the news. If you do, you know I got nothing.
Ah but I do. And the dam is about to break. My heavy aching flood of emotions have been contained far too long.
As always, more to come.
Worrying
About
Living
Life
Only
Wastes
It
Never
Good
Wallowing. No more wallowing people. I’m trying to accept that which I cannot change. I noticed I have been powering through. I have been over the moon happy. But is that a good thing? Or is that denial? I have to wonder. Maybe middle of the road is best? But not for me. I am full tilt ON or OFF.
Enjoyed the moon this morning. Hoping to stay over it.
As always, more to come.
Clearing out drafts and found this gem. Very subjective gem of course. I enjoy my lame attempts at poetry. A way to soothe what ails me. Get feelings out on virtual paper instead of festering.
As a mom, I am full of insecurities. I keep wishing for a do-over. But that is pointless, the kiddos are 30 and 21 years old. None of us wants to go backwards. And besides, the here and now is pretty darn exciting. #ChooseJoy, #NoBiteMe, #NOChooseJoyBitingHurts 🙂
Without further ado and silliness
Pain returns
That really never left
The tears still fall
Full of much regret
No cause for shame
Is what you tell yourself
You did the best you could
Let go
You’re off the hook
She is weak with worry
Real or imagined
Pain unending
Every nerve sparking
She should be gone
But somehow she stays
Trapped by inertia
Revolving
Insane
The women from Grey’s dance it out. I write it out. Today I found a journal of mine from May 2000. What a blast from the past.
As I strolled down memory lane re-reading my prose, I realized the more things change, the more they stay the same. So much for growth. I am done. Not growing. I am done complaining. I am tossing my minor cares to the wind. Grateful for everything I have which is plentiful.
She’s going down
Ready to blow
At the end of her rope
Thinking up things
That may never come true
Not knowing
Which way to move
Damned if you do
Damned if you don’t
Creating inertia
Continue to float
In a sea of morass
All the while knowing
This too shall pass
As always, more to come.
