Category: pain

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.

Women’s History, according to Grandma

I found myself scrolling through Tiktok…and I found this. It reminded me of a story that my grandmother told.

yes I am talking about the same grandmother from Grandmother’s Wisdom!

She was born in the 1930’s in Washington DC. She said that young women were not allowed to carry any weapons…but they had hat pins. I put a picture on this post…She told me that the hat pins were sharp and it baffled me. How did women use them with out poking themselves? The hat pins were seriously the same as a dagger in the hands of these young women.

Her story made me think that DC was a really bad place in her youth…(though I guess I can’t say it is a good place now)

I don’t remember the whole story but it was full of the necessary thrill to ensure that the teen I was would be hooked on every word. Now the woman I am in the middle of a dystopian nightmare for women am wishing I could have recorded every single story she told. I will always remember her telling me that Roe vs Wade didn’t make abortion easier to get, it merely made safe abortion easier to get. Women were still getting them, just most of them were dying. She told me about back alley butchers. I was so happy that I was born in post Roe vs Wade America…now I am sorry that I have lived long enough to see my home become a place where I am no longer free.

Artsy Fartsy Thursday

Artsy Fartsy Let’s Discuss art

I feel like hiding under giant mushrooms and playing with the fae. Anyone want to join me?