Tag: hope

Things I can not say

That moment when the dam burst 
And you held me tight 
I apologized for breaking
You gently glued the pieces right
That was the first time I could lean 
You offered a shoulder so steady
That was the first time I was seen 
In darkness and in light 
You’ll never know the value of 
What you did for me 
No matter the distance between us 
Always loyal, will I be

Waking in an Anxiety Attack

Wake up from a dead sleep

So many thoughts I can’t grasp one

No breath

Feeling I’m going to split apart

Gulping for air

Fear

The smallest I can go

Arms wrapped around my self

Knees tightly into chest

Nothing slows

The speed of every impulse rushing through

So fast it may just disappear

The fog of everything and nothing

Sickness rises

From a dream? From life?

Try to count

Try to focus

Try to pray

Lose track of the mantra I cling to, to tie me down

Muscles armour, the shell protecting the insides from coming out

Smaller still

Jaw so tightly clenched, small moans escape

Inside the skull deafening screams fill the void

In the darkness I wait for the light to return

Rest well

Goodbye sweet spirit.

We knew each other such a long time. Much mutual admiration for such hard roads travelled. We never really knew each other deeply, I was too young and frightened to invest, I owed you more.

Your art was moving, and spoke of the depth that travelled though you despite all of the challenges that held you under.

You inspired me. I’m not sure if I ever told you. I wish I had. You told me how much you loved Lily and loved hearing/ seeing her growing. I am grateful for this for reasons more personal and complex and that just belong to us ❤️.

The hardest part of this journey for you is done , the broken body that held your determined fiery spirit is now at rest. The chains that held you back are released, you are whole and free.

Thank you my friend, for your compassion, interest and inclusion. Forgive me my failings here, you really do inspire me. The beauty you witnessed and created with pencil to paper will always be a reminder of the big space you filled.

Tonite I look at the setting sun. On my exhale are the prayers for your peace, release and safety in the Mother’s Arms.

I hope in Transition my friend you hear and feel what I mistakenly did not adequately say in life.

Blessed Be Dear Soul. I look forward to the time we break bread together again ❤️

I Am Not Ok

Today I broke.

It’s been along time coming, this is beyond the ‘ugly’ cry. This was pure unadulterated rage and disappointment.

Curled up in the corner of the tub, hot water running over me, mixing with the hot tears streaming down my face. The rhythm from the water providing a background to the guttural howl ripping through my throat

Today I can’t. Yet I have to.

Dangled carrot of some normality my brain is refusing, for fear of let down

Trying to reconcile how we treat each other vs the good game most of us talk

Crushed by the weight of constant uncertainty, distrust, disappointment

The chronic pain I thought I had a handle on, has been chipping away at my ability to do my self care, my life

Screaming into the void

Feeling like I’m saying the same thing over and over, on deafness it falls

Today wrap me in softness, sit with me, allow me to cry, allow me to rage, allow me to hurt and not feel guilty for it.

I’m not asking for a fix, I’m not wanting pity.

I’m not wanting to hear it will get better

I don’t want to hear how strong I am.

Today I’m asking to be heard, loved, validated as is. Because today I’m not ok.

The Sixteenth Card

When do you call time?

Jam your hands and feet against the wall

Brace against the fall.

STOP

Enough now, it’s time.

From a distance what you’d have witness would be this.

A beautiful scene. Tall tower, blue sky-

The cracks began to show.

In a blink fire, explosion

The tower collapses

Ruble everywhere.

STOP

The destruction is done, no more

The air acrid with smoke- the tower has fallen

The sky blotted out, the tower is no more.

The landing was painful

I am not unscathed

There is blood, breaks, putrid wounds

Tears, fear, a heavy heart

STOP

Stillness, let it settle, let the pieces fall

Time to clean wounds, set the breaks

Wipe the soot from my eyes.

The lightening dark, clearing of smoke.

This hurts, but it’s purifying

Dissolve to ash.

STOP

Time to start again, from the elements

Air, Water, Fire, Earth,

Spirit

Weave together, first form the heart

Then breath.

Bone, nerve, muscle

Skin- sensation

Brain, thought, creative, memory

Ahh memory and wisdom

Those scars I’ll bear

BEGIN

Pressure

You would have been 80 tomorrow. Mother’s Day was yesterday. It has been 36 years. 

This is my background noise. Grief, a longing for something I may never have had. The forefront is just a mass of confusion. One I would like to talk to you about. 

I thought I had an idea of who I was. I thought I knew the trajectory I was on. And as I sit here, in the ‘day between’ reminders, the month before the 37th anniversary of loss, all I can think is I don’t know.

I don’t know what comes next

I don’t know if I will ever be rid of pain

I don’t know what will happen with my career

I don’t know where I am going

I don’t know if I am parenting adequately

I don’t know if I can heal some of these old wounds

I don’t know who I am

The picture I created in my heart and mind of what I would be when I passed ‘the date’ (you know, the one where I finally became my own adult, the one where I out lived you)

It lasted for a brief time.

I was in adventure mode- I felt strong, unlimited, interesting, amused.

And as fast as that fire was lit- poof- it was dampened

Fear? Pushback? Fall prey to old patterns? Punishment? 

I blurred my edges to try to fit. I did not know how to temper my excitement at feeling the most like me I had ever felt. So I apologized. I blurred. I asked. I apologized some more- but it was empty, I had gotten too blurry to matter. I had created and allowed this. 

To try to change, I have stripped bare my self- open to examination, picking through. There are more questions than answers. What will it take to sharpen my edges? 

This is what I would ask you. I would ask you if you ever felt this? Would you have a story for me? A lesson or example to share. Would you tell me to find my muchness? This phantom conversation plays in the background, like a wish within the chaos. 

Is this aging? Is this emerging? Is this crazy? Is this healing? 

It is transforming, to what?

I don’t know

Mother’s Day

A rush of emotion today. I first became a mom almost 28 years ago-

I made one of the best and hardest decisions of my life. That child has grown to a fine man, and I am forever grateful to the Mom I chose for him, she is the template I strive to emulate.

13 years ago, the little bean in my belly was months away from being born, and today my gratitude for the beautiful soul that chose me only grows. There’s been challenges, mistakes, adventures, laughter and frustrations but all of it with love.

36 years ago, the two women who raised me, were lost to me. My Mom and my Nan went to summerland when I was 12, but I can still recall smells, touches, snippets of wisdom and silliness ( although the true sound of the voices are but phantoms). My Nan’s wisdom and curiosity reside in my heart and soul. My Mom’s love and humour I imagine are woven into my life’s armour.

There have been women in my life who have mothered me gently, who have mothered me firmly and offered their wisdom, guidance and love. I hold much gratitude for all of them.

Today is a mix of joy and grief. The intensity of love. ❤️

“But what is grief if not love persevering?” – Vision

We are born of love. Love is our Mother – Rumi

Morning Spell

The sky lightens

Inky darkness passes

The sun not yet breaking the horizon

Grey mystic light, hovering

Magic folk still revelling in the dissipating shadows

Dancing in the dew, charting courses by the stars

They call to me

Have faith, you are moving closer to your heart

Your magic has not dimmed, only covered by the din of everyday

Come to dance, in the cool wet grass

Remember who you are

Who you were, before you gave it away

Call the pieces home, take back the self you shared to those who did not see

The weave of spells that you are

A chorus of birds to sing me home

Blessed be the Witches in the magic of the dawn.

Dark Dismantling

We all have something that we are terrified of. Something that we dread, that we push from our minds, that lays in wait in the dark places.

Sometimes it’s rational fears, sometimes it may appear to be irrational. Sometimes it’s a rational fear that has grown so large it can’t be contained to an ‘appropriate’ size.

I know I’m not the only one struggling. It’s getting harder to speak up because it seems there is no space. Everyone has something. We are all so starved to be heard, validated and soothed. Yet it seems there is very few to listen.

But here I sit in the predawn hours wrestling some of my very specific monsters.

Parts of my career are in flux.

The part where I do not work for myself has me shaken and insecure about my abilities due to ‘ratings on a score card’, the cold devalued feeling that my contributions are now subpar. The removal of any feeling of team. No human emotional considerations, conversations or care.

I wrestle with how my body is not able to tolerate the physical exertion of my career ( where I do work for myself in service of others) to the extent I used to be able to work.

I am still capable, but where my comfort number was 6 it’s now 3-4.

Constant pain to varying degrees.

This is coupled with trying to figure out other parts of my life, relationships with others and myself. I am turned inside out. My contents scattered. My identity wrapped in questions. The assurance I used to get from what I thought I knew, what I thought I was…… no longer valid. Detached

Is this the darkest part of the journey? ( at least until death?) and who is going to come out the other side? Who will shine the light during my dark dismantling?