Tag: unheard

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.

Unfinished Production

I tried to write the present, future story of my life

I took the best of what I wanted

I took the best of what I saw

And the story was so beautiful

You didn’t know the script

You didn’t want my story

You couldn’t play the part

You tried to tell me you’d been miscast

Now my stage is empty

Scattered, torn pages on the floor

The echos of my voice bouncing off the lonely walls

Stage make up streaked down my face

Lights fading

Audience gone

The Heart of an Empath

My wounds are such, that when I see them reflected in you, my response is one to want to heal you. To shelter you and let you know there is better.

My desire for connection and the mutual exploration of the deep does not fit.

I am to be taken in doses, as I see I am too much, or is it not enough?

I am told my need to help is not normal, by some even unwelcome- no matter the intent.

Do we not all have the desire to help each other? To care for and nourish each other?

To bathe the wounds in kindness, love and acceptance?

I do not understand why I don’t fit here.

It’s coming….. pre birthday thoughts

Have you ever been nervous? Not that little bit of jittery catch my breath kind of nervous, but the kind that parallels anxiety so deeply you don’t know if you’re experiencing exhilaration or just an abject ripping apart of your heart and soul.

Every year as my birthday rolls around, this seems to be the overwhelming feeling growing as each year passes.

I try to distract myself with people, places, activities.

But Covid has seen to the fact that I don’t have my distractions, the shut down not only of the world at large, but of peoples minds and hearts because they’re overwhelmed, can at times make it feel like I’m adrift calling out to empty echoes.

I don’t say this for pity, I say this is fact. We are all on survival and I am not special.

Most think that each birthday I have lived should be a victory lap, for the cycles I have tried to break, for making it to an age that I hadn’t really pictured.

I do see each year as a gift, a gift of time with my family, a gift of time to be able to have purpose in the world, to do good things, to help people as best as I can.

But this year, this godforsaken year has been so hard. So many right things to be trying to do, Politic, health and relationship building. Trying to adapt and adjust my own career to what comes next, what I’ll find fulfillment with, where I’ll find my spark.

And today as I sit and look out at the blue sky, and try to fill the landscape of my day with something to make my heart happy, all I can really feel is exhaustion with the underlying electric current of nervousness.

I’m not sure what comes next, I really don’t think anybody is. I just don’t want to lose my drive to get there. Give in to the pain my body feels as I’m trying to coax it to strength and flexibility. Give in to the high anxiety I have been battling. To keep to the positive things I’m trying to do. Who do I want to be, where will I be and who will be with me, this next turn of the wheel? The dogs that are my coffee dates this morning hold no answers.

These are the thoughts I have over coffee before my day begins, I will go to nature, I will touch the ground, I will be thankful for what I have, and remind myself of the joy of curiosity of what’s to come.

Your Prison

It’s ok.

Vulnerability is hard, but I don’t judge you for it.

I don’t judge you for not knowing. For finding it so difficult.

Your tears don’t frighten me.

Your fears don’t frighten me.

I see your overwhelmed humanness

I never had any other expectations- you had already placed so many upon yourself.

I can not fix it for you. But I will be here while you try. A hand to hold, a shoulder to lean, an ear to listen and a heart full of compassion to rest in.

The walls you built to hold you up imprison you with your demons. You have made it hard to reach you, the noise so deafening you can not hear. The frustration of self so loud you think the sound is outside your head and coming from my lips.

If you looked in my eyes, the reflection of you that you would see is one of gentleness, kindness, love

Not the unworthy monster you believe is lurking.

Yet- you think I must lie. How can I see your strength, your beauty, your worth? You demonstrated it over and over to those around, but forgotten to save a bit of light for yourself.

The light you gave me to hold once, when my own battle became so dark I could not see, is a treasure I wish to return to you, to light your way. But you can not see enough to take it.

My heart aches watching you battle. Seeing your wounds erupt from within. I can not love you enough to fill the holes you keep tearing. How can you believe your grace is poison?

How can you believe you are not loved?

I ask the Gods to help you, to hear you, to guide you through. I’ll always be here, when you release yourself from the dark.

Broken stillness of the night

I woke up at 3. Shaking, not being able to catch my breath. The vivid remnant of nightmares clinging to me like webbing.

I can still see the house I was in, ransacked, ripped apart. Daylight coming through the cracks in the window coverings, dust drifting through the air. Stale smell of inhabitants long gone – desperately trying to hide things like pictures and journals for safe keeping. Things that prove I existed. Knowing with certainty the zombies were coming. Coming to consume me as they had the things and people around me.

Pain singing through the areas of my body that in waking time is my reality. Only here the wounds are visible, bruising, blood, oozing disease dripping from the bandages.

In this dream I am aware I’ve been battling a long time. I feel my child is still alive in this wasteland. I am hiding these things for her. With hope she finds them, a record of the loving normalcy we had lived.

The exhaustion running deeply, the fear that I am loosing the battles, the outer and the inner.

Waking up, I felt nauseous, unable to shake the fear. My shoulder burning, my knee locked in a useless position. My mind racing to what the todays doctor appointment will reveal.

The deep disappointment of still living with the threat of illness, loss of income in a situation I can’t control. At the mercy of ‘the people out there’. The dream very much a mirror of how the constant hammer of daily life is chipping away at me.

So I am awake. Sitting in the dark of my living room. The sounds of my house humming along as it does at the witching our, the furnace and fridge, low buzzing filling the space. The cat crunching kibble, the puppy sighing and shifting in her blissful sleep. Not affected by the webbing of my dream, the anxiety monsters poking at me.

Me knowing in a matter of hours the people in this house will be up, navigating another day.

Still a slight shake of my hands. The paranoia that I may still yet disappear.

Trying to find, deep down inside the fortitude to face today. Another day of worrisome news, the hard to shake disappointment in humanity. Quick mental math, acknowledging the numbers out there vs the risk of leaving the house.

I must shake this off. I have people to care for. A job to do. Clients to treat, a class to lead. A child to parent. A partner to provide balance too. Friends to support and encourage. A life to live.

It was just a dream. Right?