Category: pain

Hush, Hush

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Some days it is harder than others to feel like I have a voice.

A lot of the reason I do the publishing thing is because I have had my voice stolen too often. I want to help others find their voice. Sounds kinda cheesy I realize…but it is the truth. I strive to make absolutely sure that when I edit I do so in a way that never changes the author’s voice…while still addressing readability and grammar. I realize that might not be important to some…but to me that voice is often what makes the story.

I know others feel like they are a burden, like I do. For me though it is harder to fight that because I spent much of my childhood not being heard. I have spent a good bit of my adult life the same way.

Let me explain.

Have you ever walked into a doctor’s office and told them your symptoms only to have them yell at you for not taking medicine for a disease you did not yet know you had? or have you gone in and said I am having trouble and get diagnosed with something with no test or diagnostic process simply because the doctor was overworked and you were in his office like the hundreds before you that day? Oh, and then there were the doctors who were quick to blame all of my issues on my size. Yeah. I have had really bad luck with doctors.

Perhaps that is why I avoid going until I have no choice.

Still it is not just doctors that it feels like I am ignored by. Though I understand that I am not the only person in anyone’s life…there are days when I will speak and get the response of *Sigh* What? – Which makes me want to pull away. Because that response only hurts. I understand if you are busy. Say…Hey I am busy, can I get back to you? And I will get it. But to say it like that…

It silences me. And makes my inner voice into a scream.

I feel like eventually I will never speak again, but that voice…the one inside that never shuts up…the one that says how horrible I am and that no one likes me…That will be so loud that everyone outside will hear it.

Then who will I be?

So, today….I am going to be quiet, because that voice is too loud and my voice is too small. I hope that none of you ever are hushed.

Late Again

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I sometimes feel like Alice… the rabbit hurrying me for fear of being late. Admitted, I expected to be late for today. I was not in the mind space for blogging last night. To tell you the truth I am not quite there yet today. I survived the MRI. Though I was scared to death of it. This week I am going to be late if I post anything. I hate doing that but it has been a crazy week and it is only a Monday. I guarantee that I am not going to be able to do my blogging usual, but hopefully what I do post will be worth reading.

So, hurry hurry and let us see… what exactly the rabbit has in store for you and me.

Words, words, everywhere and not a thought to think

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I am five poems away from finishing The volume Handprints on my soul…and I am struggling with my writing…Not because I am unable – obviously. I just have too many topics and too many thoughts… so many that I have been fighting Insomnia. The end of a volume is always an anxious time for me. It is when I question my writing. It is when I question my motives. It is when I question my value…

Yesterday I answered a poem with a poem. The first poem was written by someone I love very much. A child I had given up at birth because I felt myself in a poor position to care for them. The child is now grown and I am amazed by the similarity they have to me. Also a talented poet, they posted one to their Facebook page. I have in the past found it fun to respond to poets with poetry…A slightly odd behavior perhaps but I find it a fun challenge. (I have been specifically responding to haikus written by my friend, on his Facebook feed In haiku because I find the syllable count to be challenging.) So I did not think twice to do the same with my child. Their reaction surprised me.

They said that they would never be as good as I am. I responded that they already were. In some ways that is such a lie. I see their poetry as better than my own. I see everyone who writes as better than my own. I am incredibly biased. I will never stop seeing the flaws in what I write. Though I imagine that most authors do the same. The problem is though I have some days where my writing is brilliance…I also have the days where putting more than one word on paper feels impossible.

I have days that I feel like I am too insane to be allowed to speak – much less use my voice to put something into this world that will be around for an indeterminate amount of time. (That is what writing is you realize? Passing your thoughts into the hazy future for the random person to read.) And I end up feeding the darkness of those days with my own self doubt and anxiety. That is why I refuse to be jealous of other writers or artists. Why I just judge my work and no one elses (unless I am editing their work which is when I am trying to help them get it to a state of technical perfection…) I shy away from people who cannot understand that I do not require judgement or want to be around jealousy. Those things make me harder on me. Instead I need honesty and just simply to be accepted for who I am.

Today I am a poet. I am strange and I am quiet. I am introvert. I am a writer. I am an explorer. Who are you?

Ps I also seem to update the blog more at the end of a volume…mostly because as I stated…This is when I am questioning myself more so I end up coming here with the random thoughts of am I good enough…knowing that I will never hear the answer I am needing to here.

Thursday Talk

Ever want to just scream? Or throw everything in the garbage and just say the first idiot thing that comes to mind? Yeah that has been me lately. I Don’t wanna be that girl who is always there for everyone. Hell Really I am NOT that girl but I am not that boy either. To be flat out honest I am not ever even sure what I am. I am not anything that I can put a label on. I tried to talk to my therapist about it…Only to find out the words I did use to describe myself were not good. (Weird is apparently hateful)

So I am the lonely introvert who pushes everyone away. I don’t fit anywhere. I don’t know if I mind that so much…though it adds to that feeling of not having anyone who sees me. Don’t get me wrong – I have a best friend…who I feel like I am burdening because I have no way of talking to with out complaining. It doesn’t help that I am high functioning in my anxiety. So I take on more than I can do…and then refuse to ask for help. She wants to help and I end up doing what I do ask her to do because my brain tells me I am asking too much.

My damaged soul is just enough that I can see the problems I put out into the world, but I cannot seem to help myself from pushing away those who try to accept them. I normally avoid talking about the mess that I am because I am trying to put forth an image of competence and professional nature…but as I said Lately I am wanting to say the first idiot thing that comes to mind. Instead…I think I will say thank you all for your patience with me and my lackluster blogging of late.

I am hoping after the MRI on Monday I will be in a better headspace. I am hoping to get back to our regularly scheduled half mad idiocy.

Monday Poetry

Labor Day Late

so between the holidays and migraines I am running late for my posting. I will try to get some up this week…until then here is poetry…

Monday Poetry

Artsy Fartsy Thursday

Artsy Fartsy Let’s Discuss art

This digital piece cries out that it could be a watercolor. I am itching to paint again. I think I will break out the watercolor to appease it.

Monday Poetry

Inner demons and the war within

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As many of you know, I just took a vacation. The vacation was fun…and it was miserable. I will explain. My daughter and I went to visit my mom. We enjoyed the visit…but there were snide little digs that my mom made that we did not enjoy. I don’t plan on going into details. When we got back we were both upset and trying to get back to the happiness that was home. Then today we were talking about it.

“It wasn’t that bad” “I just exaggerated it” “I am just ungrateful.” “I blew it out of proportion.” “She probably didn’t mean it the way it sounded.” “I was just looking for reasons to hate the trip.”

This often happens to me when I deal with my mom. I end up feeling guilty because I take what she says the wrong way. I told my therapist about a thing that my mom had said that had my daughter upset. I told her that I had told my girl “My mother loves me, but I don’t think she likes me very much. The difference Is I love you and I like you just how you are. I would not change anything about you.” My therapist asked me a question that has been bouncing around my head ever since. “Are you sure that your mom loves you?”

The question becomes how are we sure if anyone loves us? When my parents got divorced, my mom told me something that stuck in my brain. She said that Daddy loved her, but not in the way she needed. Perhaps the demons eating at my brain are doing so, not because I am unloved or unwanted, but instead because I need more than those who have loved me were capable of giving. So my internal war today is the question – Am I too needy? Is everything I do stemming from the desire to be loved more than anyone is possibly capable of? And is my inner voice just looking for an excuse to be miserable?

I am at war with myself, and to be frank, I doubt that I am going to win.
I am fighting the demons within, and it looks like I am losing again.
The words that whisper in my brain are getting real loud within.
Teaching me that I am failing seems to be the goal,
Leaving me there to somehow the answers know.

Yeah, I guess I am going slightly mad,
For I find myself doubting even the truth I had.
Instead of knowing that I am whole and hale,
I find doubt behind every thought, everywhere.

I don’t know if I will get every day this week posted. I am not able to get the week scheduled today. I am busy fighting that war inside me.