empty yourself
like pouring water from your soul
into a small and fragile cup
each moment that passes
is a moment farther
is a moment more
is a moment of strength
at times I am more empty than I
thought I would ever be able to bear
at times, I am so full I am an electric wire
overloading, sparking, smoking
what I want most of all is a hand
someone to reach out inside the insanity
offer balast
steady the tipping and trembling that touches
each moment
each breath
The only hand that matters
is mine
but mine are fluttering in vague patterns
not knowing what to do with themselves
dancing off rhythm, knocking things over
and what stands before me
is...
not what I expected...
confusing
I bite my lips
I sing a song
I change the diapers, kiss the booboos
and wonder
When I will wander
into a place of wonder
where someone, somewhere
will care
for me enough
that my hands settle softly at my sides.
It should only take a moment
In the scheme of things
notes and thoughts from a widow and mother of three
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Something to look forward to...?
My homework assignment for my widows and widowers group is to write a list of things I can look forward to. It seems that the idea is to CREATE...as in I need to understand that there aren't many things to look forward to within this gray cloud that I call life right now. But even inside numbness, one can think of things that make them smile, focus on them, and deliver them to yourself. I have been accessing a variety of awkward things that have helped. Not all of them have been healthy. And when I think of this assignment, I keep hearing crickets. But I need to try. I want to try. I will try, because it would be like a gift from John.
So...good poets borrow, great poets steal. Therefore, I shall take the list we were given, and tweak each one to make it mine. I will make an honest attempt at leaving out the unhealthy things, and the things that would seem completely unrealistic for me. Even though when I think about this, all of it seems pretty unrealistic. I will try to let that go...
Read something off my kindle every day- whether it is a couple poems or a few pages in one of the books I started and have not embraced
Memorize an inspirational quote and repeat it to myself throughout the day
Sit outside in the evenings, if even for just a moment, and breathe in the dark
Buy myself flowers once a month
Light candles and/or incense every night
Remember to listen to music when I cook, bake, clean, or fold laundry. Listen to lots of music, in general
Go to a movie without the kids once a month
(this is directly from the list)Select a picture postcard of Frederick and send it to a friend to encourage them to visit
Watch a movie with the kids, put the computer down, eat popcorn and snuggle.
Bake a special treat for myself and the kids, and plan a time to sit and enjoy it
Send a tiny, secret gift to someone I love...(I need addresses, people!)
Make a luncheon date soon with a friend and put it on my calendar
Pick out some jewelry or other small, nifty trinket to buy myself as a reward for getting through.
Listen to some more Eddie Izzard
Keep taking hikes with the kids
Buy myself a lotion that smells delicious and use it in the evenings before bed
And then I am supposed to have a summary statement.
I suppose I would like to remember to reach out to friends and find ways to stay connected. I would also like to do things for myself that make me feel beautiful and special. I want to try to get out to do things on my own that I have always loved. I want to remember to savor the beauty of the outdoors. Nothing will take away the pain of not having John in my life. But there are many different things that do make me happy. I am not truly alone. He would want me to be as happy as I could be, he always wanted me to love myself and to find joy. There will be a small part of me that is always broken, because it is the link that tied me to him. Just because that small part lies shattered, does not mean that I need to be broken in all areas...I will find a way through this only if I allow myself to make mistakes and simultaneously love myself for every step forward, flawed or not. And it will be good to make loving choices along the way. It will be good and it will be a way to honor the love he felt for me. I think it would make him proud...
So...good poets borrow, great poets steal. Therefore, I shall take the list we were given, and tweak each one to make it mine. I will make an honest attempt at leaving out the unhealthy things, and the things that would seem completely unrealistic for me. Even though when I think about this, all of it seems pretty unrealistic. I will try to let that go...
Read something off my kindle every day- whether it is a couple poems or a few pages in one of the books I started and have not embraced
Memorize an inspirational quote and repeat it to myself throughout the day
Sit outside in the evenings, if even for just a moment, and breathe in the dark
Buy myself flowers once a month
Light candles and/or incense every night
Remember to listen to music when I cook, bake, clean, or fold laundry. Listen to lots of music, in general
Go to a movie without the kids once a month
(this is directly from the list)Select a picture postcard of Frederick and send it to a friend to encourage them to visit
Watch a movie with the kids, put the computer down, eat popcorn and snuggle.
Bake a special treat for myself and the kids, and plan a time to sit and enjoy it
Send a tiny, secret gift to someone I love...(I need addresses, people!)
Make a luncheon date soon with a friend and put it on my calendar
Pick out some jewelry or other small, nifty trinket to buy myself as a reward for getting through.
Listen to some more Eddie Izzard
Keep taking hikes with the kids
Buy myself a lotion that smells delicious and use it in the evenings before bed
And then I am supposed to have a summary statement.
I suppose I would like to remember to reach out to friends and find ways to stay connected. I would also like to do things for myself that make me feel beautiful and special. I want to try to get out to do things on my own that I have always loved. I want to remember to savor the beauty of the outdoors. Nothing will take away the pain of not having John in my life. But there are many different things that do make me happy. I am not truly alone. He would want me to be as happy as I could be, he always wanted me to love myself and to find joy. There will be a small part of me that is always broken, because it is the link that tied me to him. Just because that small part lies shattered, does not mean that I need to be broken in all areas...I will find a way through this only if I allow myself to make mistakes and simultaneously love myself for every step forward, flawed or not. And it will be good to make loving choices along the way. It will be good and it will be a way to honor the love he felt for me. I think it would make him proud...
Monday, September 30, 2013
another homework assignment- human nature
I spent four summers, plus a little here and there, canvassing in northern Maine. I spoke with literally hundreds of people. I have been close friends with a woman who was ritualistically abused, with the purpose of splintering her into hundreds of personalities. I was raised by one woman who fought against the abuse she had been handed by closing herself off to love and hope and honesty. The other woman who raised me was nothing but a shell, broken and dissolved into countless cups of vodka and diet soda, who never fully developed an ability to stand up for what she believed or say what she thought. I have little or no contact with half of my very tiny family. When I let my internal tapes of self deprecation and fear run my life, I found dozens of people willing and able to take advantage of that state in any number of ways.
I also spent several months working with kids who were abandoned, abused, neglected, and messed up in more ways than you can count. One of them spent an evening trying to beat me with a broom stick, one of them ran from class so often that when I wasn't there to stop him one day, he ran into the street and was hit by a (slow moving, thank goodness) car. One had bipolar disorder and his mother used to take his medication now and then. One day when she did, I watched him fly across a series of desks to beat the hell out of another kid joking around and pushing his buttons. On a day when he had his meds at school and he was sick and stuffed up, I saw he had a mildly infected cut on his hand. I got a cup of warm water and hydrogen peroxide, sat beside him, put my arm around his shoulder, placed his cut finger in the water and had him rest his 7 year old head on my side. He looked at me with deep brown/black eyes and asked if I had any kids. I said "Just you" and I felt him melt into me.
Human nature is to need. And to survive. There is anger and hatred and selfishness, more so when we were deprived in one way or another. When we are hurt, we strike back. When we are abandoned, we close ourselves off and walk away from everyone reaching. Human nature is to fear; we fear being seen, misunderstood, sometimes being understood and known. We fear others and their ability to not like us. We fear our desire to be liked. Or we fear that others will see that we are afraid.
I think there is too much in our heads that is hard to describe and explain. Every single one of us has access to infinite perfection and deep selfishness bordering on and, perhaps even stepping into, evil. I have no idea what makes some of us go in various directions. I realized a long time ago that I didn't believe in a regular path of fate. Instead, I believed in fate as a series of branching paths. We are constantly given options. We choose much of where we go. But each branch or path is a certain length and when we make one choice, we must follow that path until we find ourselves at another crossroads. And again we choose, and again we walk for some predetermined amount of time and distance. We choose and are corralled, each in it's own turn.
I feel the honesty of the quote by Ovid "I see the right, and I approve it too, condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue." I have done this over and over.
I also think that we are all doing the best we can with the hand we are dealt. That means our minds, our hearts, and our experiences. I wonder if we have more interactions and experiences with different people, if we are more open to honesty, if not to good.
And of course, I see the impact of death and retrospection when we are the ones left behind. People, sweet people, tell me they believe things happen for a reason. I just don't see that. I see, like I said many entries back, that we are here for no real reason that we can truly grasp. And so we are, in effect, here for the same reason as the trees, the grass, the ants, and buzzards and spiders and dolphins. We are here because we are here. And since we are here, and here tends to be so damned hard, the only thing that matters is how to ease the journeys of our fellow travelers. We need to walk lightly holding many hands. Because perhaps what we all fear most, is being unloved and alone.
My problem with my understanding of human nature is that I just don't understand why people are mean. I don't understand why people judge. I don't understand why people are dishonest about so much. I know it is simplistic. I know we can't all get along and be friends. Human nature involves misunderstanding and hurt and sadness and lashing out and reaching out and...too many things to write down. It is tiring, and I think in circles when I think of this. Because I know I am just as guilty. I know I have made choices that have hurt, that are selfish and stupid. It is the quote by Ovid again...
So what do I add to my credo? Love? Confusion? Ineptitude? Short sightedness? Simple compassion? Fear?
We forget what water is all the time, because life is routine. We forget life is a gift filled with opportunities to connect and nourish and support and love. And instead it becomes a series of meaningless steps from one moment to another. And an exercise in judging those who make us step in other directions, in paths we were trying to conquer. And then it becomes misguided attempts at closing ourselves off from everything that could be good.
I also spent several months working with kids who were abandoned, abused, neglected, and messed up in more ways than you can count. One of them spent an evening trying to beat me with a broom stick, one of them ran from class so often that when I wasn't there to stop him one day, he ran into the street and was hit by a (slow moving, thank goodness) car. One had bipolar disorder and his mother used to take his medication now and then. One day when she did, I watched him fly across a series of desks to beat the hell out of another kid joking around and pushing his buttons. On a day when he had his meds at school and he was sick and stuffed up, I saw he had a mildly infected cut on his hand. I got a cup of warm water and hydrogen peroxide, sat beside him, put my arm around his shoulder, placed his cut finger in the water and had him rest his 7 year old head on my side. He looked at me with deep brown/black eyes and asked if I had any kids. I said "Just you" and I felt him melt into me.
Human nature is to need. And to survive. There is anger and hatred and selfishness, more so when we were deprived in one way or another. When we are hurt, we strike back. When we are abandoned, we close ourselves off and walk away from everyone reaching. Human nature is to fear; we fear being seen, misunderstood, sometimes being understood and known. We fear others and their ability to not like us. We fear our desire to be liked. Or we fear that others will see that we are afraid.
I think there is too much in our heads that is hard to describe and explain. Every single one of us has access to infinite perfection and deep selfishness bordering on and, perhaps even stepping into, evil. I have no idea what makes some of us go in various directions. I realized a long time ago that I didn't believe in a regular path of fate. Instead, I believed in fate as a series of branching paths. We are constantly given options. We choose much of where we go. But each branch or path is a certain length and when we make one choice, we must follow that path until we find ourselves at another crossroads. And again we choose, and again we walk for some predetermined amount of time and distance. We choose and are corralled, each in it's own turn.
I feel the honesty of the quote by Ovid "I see the right, and I approve it too, condemn the wrong, and yet the wrong pursue." I have done this over and over.
I also think that we are all doing the best we can with the hand we are dealt. That means our minds, our hearts, and our experiences. I wonder if we have more interactions and experiences with different people, if we are more open to honesty, if not to good.
And of course, I see the impact of death and retrospection when we are the ones left behind. People, sweet people, tell me they believe things happen for a reason. I just don't see that. I see, like I said many entries back, that we are here for no real reason that we can truly grasp. And so we are, in effect, here for the same reason as the trees, the grass, the ants, and buzzards and spiders and dolphins. We are here because we are here. And since we are here, and here tends to be so damned hard, the only thing that matters is how to ease the journeys of our fellow travelers. We need to walk lightly holding many hands. Because perhaps what we all fear most, is being unloved and alone.
My problem with my understanding of human nature is that I just don't understand why people are mean. I don't understand why people judge. I don't understand why people are dishonest about so much. I know it is simplistic. I know we can't all get along and be friends. Human nature involves misunderstanding and hurt and sadness and lashing out and reaching out and...too many things to write down. It is tiring, and I think in circles when I think of this. Because I know I am just as guilty. I know I have made choices that have hurt, that are selfish and stupid. It is the quote by Ovid again...
So what do I add to my credo? Love? Confusion? Ineptitude? Short sightedness? Simple compassion? Fear?
We forget what water is all the time, because life is routine. We forget life is a gift filled with opportunities to connect and nourish and support and love. And instead it becomes a series of meaningless steps from one moment to another. And an exercise in judging those who make us step in other directions, in paths we were trying to conquer. And then it becomes misguided attempts at closing ourselves off from everything that could be good.
Sunday, September 29, 2013
connections
The colors I am holding right now are pink, gold, and green. I have paired this with compassion, integrity, and self worth.
I have made choices in my life that are not honorable. The honorable thing is that I am trying to let them go. I came to them through a desire to not be afraid. The compassionate part is that I am loving myself enough to allow that, while I made mistakes, I am not (right now) judging myself for them.
I reached for strength. My history is peppered with people and words and many moments in which I found I was not worth much. My desire to feel my self worth has always had me railing against these situations. I never stopped trying to fight them. For a while, I fought them by embracing them. That didn't work very well because it fed the demon. When I realized that, I continued to try to fight. But fighting yourself, the words in your head, your feelings, your pain...that is counter productive.
So a figure from the past came into my sphere and offered kindness. That kindness stepped over the lines of integrity. I went willingly, happily. I am very glad I did. Because I needed the help of this figure. He mistreated me, years and years ago. I have always had periods of my life when I was facing backwards, in an attempt to understand and identify and heal. It was in this period John entered my sphere. He didn't understand why I was looking backwards, and kept telling me to move forward. I knew enough to tell him to just let me do what I was doing- I was searching for old wounds, to break again what had been broken and set incorrectly. I was searching out the pain, not to add more, but to create a more appropriate cast. To heal more fully. He listened and supported me. For hours and hours every night. And that is likely why I fell in love with him.
A huge part of this battle has been seeing myself as worthy of good things. When you grow up with verbal abuse, the voices in your head, the old tapes, are not very helpful. Mine centered around my inner goddess, for lack of a better term. The part of me that wanted love and sex and touch and tenderness. It took a huge amount of time to learn, at least in part, that I did not have to see that part as a tool. That when I did, I got the wrong things.
My journey in these parts of my soul came to some strange tangled forest after I had our first child and my body changed on me. I still had this deep seated belief that my worth, my value, was tied to my body and my looks. John never stopped being attracted to me, but I doubted his love for me. I was not an athlete, or a coach...and I thought by marrying me, he had settled because he couldn't get one of those things. In reality, he went outside his comfort zone to be with me since I wasn't one of those things. He loved me for who I was. But when I gained the 60 pounds that came with our babies, I thought I wasn't beautiful anymore. Combine that with all the young athletes he coached and the powerful coaches he was friends with, whether or not they were past lovers (and some were), I felt small and wrong and unattractive. He never was so great with words- he used too many, and too often the wrong ones. He could speak to a crowd. Speaking to me, he was often lost. Perhaps that is because my love of the right word was intimidating.
Either way, he died before we could reconcile this. He left me in a place where I doubted my beauty, my worth, my desirability.
This figure from my past not only knew some of my buttons, he was one. He was the first one. And he gave me the gift of explaining...no, showing me that I was so much more to him than was apparent in our mistake. He gave me the gift of knowing that I held an incredible place in his heart, that I did then and I did for years.
So now that I see this, I can employ integrity. I can wish this person more happiness than should be legal. How brave and true to not stop trying to face your mistakes. How brave and real to try to make amends for something that cannot be fixed. But being open to him and what he carries in his heart enabled as much fixing as possible.
So now, the challenge is to have the courage to let that affirmation go. I have to know that it is there, and not check in on it. I have to know inside myself, without John, without this figure, without anyone else beside me. I have to know I am beautiful, I am worthy, I am amazing. All by myself. With my grief, my anger, my fear that I am trying to let wash over me, through me, and go beyond me...he has said over and over we will "just know". I didn't get that until today.
And as I think about the teenage girl I was when he took something from me, I love her. And as I think about the woman that I am now, who allowed him to try to give it back, I love him. And in loving the two of us from so long ago, perhaps I can allow the love that John had for me to flow through everything I do from here forward. Perhaps I can walk into the future with John in my mind and heart to guide my steps.
For he is not gone, when I hold him close. And he chose me above everyone else. He chose the woman not from his world, because I am adventurous, athletic, I can throw and catch with ease, I laugh loud and easily, I am smart and sexy, sweet and playful...perhaps now I can learn to see me through his eyes. Perhaps I can move forward in a way that will make him proud.
I know I will still get too angry. I know I have oceans of tears left. A friend at church today said that she missed John. She said that she wished he had been there, at the 10 year anniversary of the dedication of the building we are in now. I cried. She apologized. I told her not to do that. She said she didn't want to make me cry. And she didn't. The tears are there and they need to come to help me heal. I keep them inside because I need to function. I don't push them away, but I don't call to them, either. They just hover right behind my eyes. And when someone else talks of their love of him, how they miss him, the things they would like to share with him or the things that did share...that keeps him alive. That invites the tears out, letting me know that it is safe for them to come. That is a gift. My job is to tell you when I can't do that, because there are times when I can't. But I am certainly strong enough to say if it is the time or not. Strong enough for that. Strong enough for much more than I ever thought.
I am a woman warrior.
I am not alone. Even in my solitude. What a strange gift from a strange place. I love that I am open to strangeness. I thank this person deeply. I thank John for loving me. I thank my friend for talking about him. I hate the universe and cancer for taking him. I know he will never be gone because I swear on everything I love that I will fight for the best in me as a way to honor him and the love he had for me. And when I feel like maybe my strength isn't enough, he will always be inside me. He, in his entirety...and pieces of others, moments, words, gifts of courage, baring bodies and souls, reaching, trying...life is nothing, if it is not connection. I will try to connect. I will accept the gift of even odd connections. Because that is what they are. They are a gift. They are everything....
I reached for strength. My history is peppered with people and words and many moments in which I found I was not worth much. My desire to feel my self worth has always had me railing against these situations. I never stopped trying to fight them. For a while, I fought them by embracing them. That didn't work very well because it fed the demon. When I realized that, I continued to try to fight. But fighting yourself, the words in your head, your feelings, your pain...that is counter productive.
So a figure from the past came into my sphere and offered kindness. That kindness stepped over the lines of integrity. I went willingly, happily. I am very glad I did. Because I needed the help of this figure. He mistreated me, years and years ago. I have always had periods of my life when I was facing backwards, in an attempt to understand and identify and heal. It was in this period John entered my sphere. He didn't understand why I was looking backwards, and kept telling me to move forward. I knew enough to tell him to just let me do what I was doing- I was searching for old wounds, to break again what had been broken and set incorrectly. I was searching out the pain, not to add more, but to create a more appropriate cast. To heal more fully. He listened and supported me. For hours and hours every night. And that is likely why I fell in love with him.
A huge part of this battle has been seeing myself as worthy of good things. When you grow up with verbal abuse, the voices in your head, the old tapes, are not very helpful. Mine centered around my inner goddess, for lack of a better term. The part of me that wanted love and sex and touch and tenderness. It took a huge amount of time to learn, at least in part, that I did not have to see that part as a tool. That when I did, I got the wrong things.
My journey in these parts of my soul came to some strange tangled forest after I had our first child and my body changed on me. I still had this deep seated belief that my worth, my value, was tied to my body and my looks. John never stopped being attracted to me, but I doubted his love for me. I was not an athlete, or a coach...and I thought by marrying me, he had settled because he couldn't get one of those things. In reality, he went outside his comfort zone to be with me since I wasn't one of those things. He loved me for who I was. But when I gained the 60 pounds that came with our babies, I thought I wasn't beautiful anymore. Combine that with all the young athletes he coached and the powerful coaches he was friends with, whether or not they were past lovers (and some were), I felt small and wrong and unattractive. He never was so great with words- he used too many, and too often the wrong ones. He could speak to a crowd. Speaking to me, he was often lost. Perhaps that is because my love of the right word was intimidating.
Either way, he died before we could reconcile this. He left me in a place where I doubted my beauty, my worth, my desirability.
This figure from my past not only knew some of my buttons, he was one. He was the first one. And he gave me the gift of explaining...no, showing me that I was so much more to him than was apparent in our mistake. He gave me the gift of knowing that I held an incredible place in his heart, that I did then and I did for years.
So now that I see this, I can employ integrity. I can wish this person more happiness than should be legal. How brave and true to not stop trying to face your mistakes. How brave and real to try to make amends for something that cannot be fixed. But being open to him and what he carries in his heart enabled as much fixing as possible.
So now, the challenge is to have the courage to let that affirmation go. I have to know that it is there, and not check in on it. I have to know inside myself, without John, without this figure, without anyone else beside me. I have to know I am beautiful, I am worthy, I am amazing. All by myself. With my grief, my anger, my fear that I am trying to let wash over me, through me, and go beyond me...he has said over and over we will "just know". I didn't get that until today.
And as I think about the teenage girl I was when he took something from me, I love her. And as I think about the woman that I am now, who allowed him to try to give it back, I love him. And in loving the two of us from so long ago, perhaps I can allow the love that John had for me to flow through everything I do from here forward. Perhaps I can walk into the future with John in my mind and heart to guide my steps.
For he is not gone, when I hold him close. And he chose me above everyone else. He chose the woman not from his world, because I am adventurous, athletic, I can throw and catch with ease, I laugh loud and easily, I am smart and sexy, sweet and playful...perhaps now I can learn to see me through his eyes. Perhaps I can move forward in a way that will make him proud.
I know I will still get too angry. I know I have oceans of tears left. A friend at church today said that she missed John. She said that she wished he had been there, at the 10 year anniversary of the dedication of the building we are in now. I cried. She apologized. I told her not to do that. She said she didn't want to make me cry. And she didn't. The tears are there and they need to come to help me heal. I keep them inside because I need to function. I don't push them away, but I don't call to them, either. They just hover right behind my eyes. And when someone else talks of their love of him, how they miss him, the things they would like to share with him or the things that did share...that keeps him alive. That invites the tears out, letting me know that it is safe for them to come. That is a gift. My job is to tell you when I can't do that, because there are times when I can't. But I am certainly strong enough to say if it is the time or not. Strong enough for that. Strong enough for much more than I ever thought.
I am a woman warrior.
I am not alone. Even in my solitude. What a strange gift from a strange place. I love that I am open to strangeness. I thank this person deeply. I thank John for loving me. I thank my friend for talking about him. I hate the universe and cancer for taking him. I know he will never be gone because I swear on everything I love that I will fight for the best in me as a way to honor him and the love he had for me. And when I feel like maybe my strength isn't enough, he will always be inside me. He, in his entirety...and pieces of others, moments, words, gifts of courage, baring bodies and souls, reaching, trying...life is nothing, if it is not connection. I will try to connect. I will accept the gift of even odd connections. Because that is what they are. They are a gift. They are everything....
Saturday, September 28, 2013
too much sometimes
I guess I have been doing okay most of the time. Today, not so much. I don't know what it is. But after baking this morning, I haven't been able to get up to do anything really. And Neil decided to take the stuff I baked onto the floor, open the containers, and eat some. And leave the rest for the dogs to get. This is after I offered him lunch, and he said "no" to everything I suggested. I saved the banana bread, but the pumpkin chocolate chip cookies didn't make it. I was so angry. Completely out of proportion. I scared Cilly. Oh and the house is a wreck. And I just can't find anything inside me right now. I feel like a shell. It's too damn much. Too much responsibility. Too much sadness, pain, frustration. Too many moments to mess up. I screamed that I hate being a mother. I couldn't shut my mouth-I felt the words bubbling and tried to stop them...I slowed them...and they still came out. And Neil said he was sorry and he would never ever do it again. And I just want to shrivel up. Damn it all. I thought I was doing so well...I haven't felt the anger for a while...my skin feels hot and cold...not like a fever, just like confusion. I'm just. So. Tired. and I want him back. and I want me back. I want so many things I cannot have.
Like those cookies. I really wanted more of them.
I remember telling John how I was so scared. How I had to live after he was gone and how that was just so intimidating and overwhelming. I don't know that he ever got that. His fate was worse. I think it is fair to say that mine is harder. Although I do hate that stupid word: fair. It never seems to help anyone.
I think I should have taken a nap. Maybe that would have helped. Maybe I would have dreamed of puppy dogs and rainbows.
I still would have woken up and had to wade through the mess that is this house. I still wouldn't have known what to do with half the stuff here. I would still feel mostly empty.
I wish I had someone to hold me while I cried. That would be nice, in a sort of sad way.
Like those cookies. I really wanted more of them.
I remember telling John how I was so scared. How I had to live after he was gone and how that was just so intimidating and overwhelming. I don't know that he ever got that. His fate was worse. I think it is fair to say that mine is harder. Although I do hate that stupid word: fair. It never seems to help anyone.
I think I should have taken a nap. Maybe that would have helped. Maybe I would have dreamed of puppy dogs and rainbows.
I still would have woken up and had to wade through the mess that is this house. I still wouldn't have known what to do with half the stuff here. I would still feel mostly empty.
I wish I had someone to hold me while I cried. That would be nice, in a sort of sad way.
Friday, September 27, 2013
enter the night
enter the night with warm skin
softly thrumming
the smell of lavender, vanilla, and a cool fall night
I have done less
of the bad things
the closing things
I have tried to be calm
breathe slower
let people hear my heart
a little
each day is a new moment
to listen to things that surround you
so that you can try to blend
your voice to twist and harmonize
to the world you live in
and in soft moments
I wonder what I want
widowed and wandering
it is different, at times, from what I need
to pass from moment to moment
the glue that binds you to love
that is untouchable
the lubricant that enables you
to slide more gently across
the ragged edges
the claret liquid lapping
at hungry lips and making eyelids
droop, perhaps just a little too much
enter the night, each night
with empty arms
and a heart full of hope
for things undefined
allow for the ticking that trembles
beneath the surface of your brain
cradle the monkey mind, hold hands
with each moment of horror and breaking heart
These are the things
that make you
As inside the breaking
you find you are made
mixed up, confused.
Still growing.
So enter the night
with warm soft skin
thrumming
soothing darkness pin pricked with white light
moments of magic
hold a tiny hand in your own, stroke
the smooth, perfect cheek
let the dog nuzzle his way beneath the blankets
to settle at the back of your knees.
These
are the things
that will, somehow,
fill the soft and shattered parts
that will, somehow,
allow the pain
to grow
Into more than you might think.
As the decimated forest
post fire
bears more fertile fruit
so, I believe, my heart
will learn even more love
so I welcome the tears
when they arrive
I will try not to judge
my laughter or my longing
and I will remember
to enter the night
slowly. softly. quietly
And open.
softly thrumming
the smell of lavender, vanilla, and a cool fall night
I have done less
of the bad things
the closing things
I have tried to be calm
breathe slower
let people hear my heart
a little
each day is a new moment
to listen to things that surround you
so that you can try to blend
your voice to twist and harmonize
to the world you live in
and in soft moments
I wonder what I want
widowed and wandering
it is different, at times, from what I need
to pass from moment to moment
the glue that binds you to love
that is untouchable
the lubricant that enables you
to slide more gently across
the ragged edges
the claret liquid lapping
at hungry lips and making eyelids
droop, perhaps just a little too much
enter the night, each night
with empty arms
and a heart full of hope
for things undefined
allow for the ticking that trembles
beneath the surface of your brain
cradle the monkey mind, hold hands
with each moment of horror and breaking heart
These are the things
that make you
As inside the breaking
you find you are made
mixed up, confused.
Still growing.
So enter the night
with warm soft skin
thrumming
soothing darkness pin pricked with white light
moments of magic
hold a tiny hand in your own, stroke
the smooth, perfect cheek
let the dog nuzzle his way beneath the blankets
to settle at the back of your knees.
These
are the things
that will, somehow,
fill the soft and shattered parts
that will, somehow,
allow the pain
to grow
Into more than you might think.
As the decimated forest
post fire
bears more fertile fruit
so, I believe, my heart
will learn even more love
so I welcome the tears
when they arrive
I will try not to judge
my laughter or my longing
and I will remember
to enter the night
slowly. softly. quietly
And open.
Thursday, September 26, 2013
looking forward?
Ugh! Tonight's homework from class is to write about things you look forward to. I just don't know right now. Which isn't to say there isn't laughter. There totally is...I work with seven year old's and have three kids 7 and under. Perhaps for some that might be frightening, and I will TOTALLY admit to the fact that sometimes having so many small humans in my life is beyond overwhelming! But I love kids, so....
I have a friend that teaches high school and he has at least a couple classes of repeat freshman. I have had more disciplinary issues in second grade than he has. My only explanation is that seven year old kids who are struggling have no filter. So the behaviors my friend likely gets are way worse, and not as consistent. Perhaps one of the ways that consistency sort of sucks...The good thing is that none of this has even come close to rattling my belief that kids are good, and choices vary from moment to moment.
So I come back to what I look forward to. I think about my dog walk sunrises. Those are amazing.
I am taking photos in the hopes that I remember the lovely on the days to come when there is rain and when it is snowy and cold and crappy. (As well as for other reasons. Sunsets have good memories for me.)
I look forward to the hugs from my students, especially those I don't expect. Sometimes they sneak up on me.
I look forward to the odd and infrequent moments when my 7 year old lets me give him a kiss and we look at each other and compete with silly expressions and he makes me belly laugh. (First time that happened was today, and I hope for more)
I look forward to the times when I have a moment to enjoy the crazy sweetness that exists inside the tiny armed hugs of my daughter- oh wow, those are amazing.
I look forward to writing things that make people happy, that others hear and get (in some way).
I look forward to singing
I look forward to reading good books. But I really really wish Patrick Rothfuss wold write more! I want his next novel like I want a drug. I am, however, reading Vonnegut's Slapstick, which is something of an autobiography, so I look forward to that.
Trying hard to find more...the other part of the homework was a summary statement. I don't know what to do with that. So I will think on it and get back to you.
This site lets me see where in the world people are checking out my entries. I have readers in Serbia and China, Brazil (Mal?), and England...I need some Aussie readers...and I would love to hear from you guys. I sit on my falling apart sofa, drinking too much wine, or lovely Yogi tea, and I am alone...I have a fantastic community, but there are only a few subscribers here. If I write something that touches you, helps you, connects us in some strange moment, let me know. It would be very comforting to know that the void that my words and heart go out to can say "hi" back....
Just a thought. Perhaps that would be something I could look forward to as well....?
I have a friend that teaches high school and he has at least a couple classes of repeat freshman. I have had more disciplinary issues in second grade than he has. My only explanation is that seven year old kids who are struggling have no filter. So the behaviors my friend likely gets are way worse, and not as consistent. Perhaps one of the ways that consistency sort of sucks...The good thing is that none of this has even come close to rattling my belief that kids are good, and choices vary from moment to moment.
So I come back to what I look forward to. I think about my dog walk sunrises. Those are amazing.
I look forward to the hugs from my students, especially those I don't expect. Sometimes they sneak up on me.
I look forward to the odd and infrequent moments when my 7 year old lets me give him a kiss and we look at each other and compete with silly expressions and he makes me belly laugh. (First time that happened was today, and I hope for more)
I look forward to the times when I have a moment to enjoy the crazy sweetness that exists inside the tiny armed hugs of my daughter- oh wow, those are amazing.
I look forward to writing things that make people happy, that others hear and get (in some way).
I look forward to singing
I look forward to reading good books. But I really really wish Patrick Rothfuss wold write more! I want his next novel like I want a drug. I am, however, reading Vonnegut's Slapstick, which is something of an autobiography, so I look forward to that.
Trying hard to find more...the other part of the homework was a summary statement. I don't know what to do with that. So I will think on it and get back to you.
This site lets me see where in the world people are checking out my entries. I have readers in Serbia and China, Brazil (Mal?), and England...I need some Aussie readers...and I would love to hear from you guys. I sit on my falling apart sofa, drinking too much wine, or lovely Yogi tea, and I am alone...I have a fantastic community, but there are only a few subscribers here. If I write something that touches you, helps you, connects us in some strange moment, let me know. It would be very comforting to know that the void that my words and heart go out to can say "hi" back....
Just a thought. Perhaps that would be something I could look forward to as well....?
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