No Blame –

“When I get lonely these days, I think: So BE lonely, Liz. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person’s body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.”
Elizabeth Gilbert,
Eat, Pray, Love
“All great and precious things are lonely.” ― John Steinbeck, East of Eden
society–killed–the–teenager
When I complain about being alone I have a person, an event, or self deprecating fault in mind as to the cause of this loneliness. I want to blame something. It’s because so and so left me, or my parents didn’t raise me right, or I’m so (insert self deprecating comment) that no one wants me. I’ve learned a lesson in the last few weeks as I ruminated over this and realized that there are times when it’s meant for me to be alone. There’s no one to blame, fate and divinity have ordained it. There is nothing I can do to stop it, it must be endured. I’ll be betrayed, forsaken, abandoned, used, lied about, or just plain left alone by all my friends and family. It’ll happen to me and you regardless of where we are or our social standing. Fighting against it by coercing companionship or drowning the feeling with substances or mindless activity only prolongs the agony, for unless I accept this solitary moment and let it work the work that needs to be done, I’m forestalling my personal growth, spiritually and inwardly, i.e. there are times when I need to be alone.
The flip side is -it hurts and it’s tough to persevere. I need swallow this bitter pill and go on to a more palatable existence but I’m not sure if I’m ready to accept my own advice as I struggle through the agony of each moment, plagued by tears and a deep ache in my stomach. It’s harder to live the truth than to know it.
First Published in Opinions Of Eye

Levity –

“The certain prospect of death could sweeten every life with a precious and fragrant drop of levity.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche
angel-in-the-wind
Passing around hard thoughts,
Skipping through rough consequences
Rebuking the threats that abound
A break deserved brought about by
my sweet Levity.
The feasts are prepared,
a peaceful interlude is granted
smiles endure and the future ignored
an intermission paid in full by
my sweet Levity.
All memories are her ethereal songs,
Sweet lullabies sung before the never setting sun
Her persistent touch rocking the cradle
New life borne in light by
my sweet Levity.
First published in Opinionsofeye.com

Awkward Reasons –

God may forgive sins, he said, but awkwardness has no forgiveness in heaven or earth.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson
“Great endowments often announce themselves in youth in the form of singularity and awkwardness.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

There are reasons why at times my interactions with people seem strained. I say the wrong things. I limp through my social circles, everyone making way for my awkward presence. I bring up subjects deep and poignant. I provoke thoughts, thoughts you’re not accustomed to. I speak in a way you find odd. My accent tainted, not pure, not from any one place. The same with my mannerisms. I fidget with my hands in a crowd, unsure of how to hold them. I wonder if the way I’m standing is threatening. If a purse is left close to me, I walk away, believing you’ll accuse me if something is missing. Trying to drive with a thousand choices that are made instantly, provokes these social swerves that seem ungainly and make others uncomfortable. 

 
Do you know that this isn’t me? This isn’t how I am, constrained to behave oddly, chained to a limp of the soul and mind. Do you know I’m injured? Do you know I almost died because of love? Do you know I fought for my life many times, not from just physical beatings but mental torture and illness? Do you know that I’ve argued for my release from beatings given, many, many times?
 
Do you know how these scars make it hard to smile? The hardened skin refusing to release the joy struggling to stay alive in the poisonous atmosphere of my melancholic soul? Do you know the thousand thoughts I think just to go out the door? Checking my clothes, the color of my skin, the dark circles under my eyes, the length of my nose, the girth of my belly? Do you know that walking to my car creates anxiety? I grab my keys like a weapon; I make sure I always have a knife, though these things have never delivered me from violence or comforted me. Do you know that I struggle with violence a hundred times an hour? Not only my self-imposed violence toward me or others, but of the perceived violence I see directed at me in every face? 
 
Do you know that I always try to help others? Do you know though having been burned 99 times out of hundred, I still reach out, thinking that everyone believes I’m a sucker? Thinking that they all talk among themselves, working out plans to rob me of my time, energy, and money? Do you know that I know you are using me? Do you know that I still give in spite of this? There are reasons, stop and consider why.
 
Take time to realize that the people you know and see everyday are hurt and wounded. Look out from your struggle and know that a friend, a family member, a bartender, a cashier, is on their last thread of hope, wanting to die from the pain they feel. Reach out with compassion on those who irritate you, understand that the scars they bear make it difficult to respond with graciousness toward you and your problems. We are all in this together, make room in the survival raft for those drowning in despair. Act without requiring a suicide note or a midnight call from the police before you reach out…

Also published in Broowaha Magazine
First published in Opinionsofeye.com
02082012

Pieces – Beautiful when held away from memories –

“Sometimes I wonder if we ever truly let anyone completely in. The desire for another human being to know you, all of you, all the pieces, even the ones you’re ashamed of — is huge. But too often, we sit down and sort through the pieces only picking out the pretty ones, leaving the ugly ones behind, not realizing that choosing not to share with someone else is like committing a crime against our very soul” ― Rachel Van Dyken, Toxic
 
pozadia

Pieces. Making up a whole, many parts nested together, each influencing another, producing new parts by virtue of the interaction. I pick out a few, examine them closely and find interesting details. They’re beautiful, when held away from the fray of the many tentacled reach of memories and fantasies. After holding them up to the light, seeing their potential array, I shudder to place them back into the filthy nest of my mind. Pulling out the best pieces, I shake them violently to break them free from the sticky strands of complexity and insanity. It encourages me to see the good in the midst of the shadowy world of loathing self esteem. I go through life in this juggling act, bringing out the best, keeping them out front, trying to not corrupt them or damage them. It’s true that others caused the breaks in my beautiful things, but I cannot put them away, even if it means harm, they’re all that I believe is good in me.

First published in Opinions Of Eye
03162012

Raven – Destruction of Mania

“Times of great calamity and confusion have been productive for the greatest minds. The purest ore is produced from the hottest furnace. The brightest thunder-bolt is elicited from the darkest storm.” Charles Caleb Colton
 
delivermetoevil

The shadows always follow,

to conduct
a hazing of content.
Strange the surreal look
of thunderheads.
When these clouds of doubt
finally break,
I’ll rise from the ashes
this fiery collapsed
fortress of thought.
A thousand oil fields,
with their derricks
furiously pounding,
all working to find treasure
hidden in my mind.
The raven passes these
violators of mind’s defense
and taps the fury to build
a fire from broken dreams.

If you need help for racing thoughts, GET IT

Also Published in Wingposse 

05162011


Raven – Destruction of Mania

“Times of great calamity and confusion have been productive for the greatest minds. The purest ore is produced from the hottest furnace. The brightest thunder-bolt is elicited from the darkest storm.” Charles Caleb Colton
 
delivermetoevil

The shadows always follow,

to conduct
a hazing of content.
Strange the surreal look
of thunderheads.
When these clouds of doubt
finally break,
I’ll rise from the ashes
this fiery collapsed
fortress of thought.
A thousand oil fields,
with their derricks
furiously pounding,
all working to find treasure
hidden in my mind.
The raven passes these
violators of mind’s defense
and taps the fury to build
a fire from broken dreams.

If you need help for racing thoughts, GET IT

Also Published in Wingposse 

05162011


Grey – A peek from under the wet blanket

It’s an art to live with pain… mix the light into gray.” – Eddie Vedder
late-on-time

Listen, while I tell you a story of grey. The grey wraps around my soul in a haze of unwanted anxiety, a watered down black, like dark swirls in spoiled milk. These streaks of deteriorated joy cover my lens, my warm blanket soaked with fruitless tears. Feelings are sharp and cutting, nothing is gained by the sorrow. My grey love backfires, I point it toward her but the pain is set loose on my soul. This grey soaks me, in vain I try to keep myself warm in the breeze of cool emotion. Grey is my elixir of madness. I drink deep from the drought of darkness gone bad. Stormy clouds gather, a condensation of holiness evaporated from the lake of my soul, leaving it a lifeless puddle of unfathomable sorrow. Now you know of my affliction my curious companion, my lifelong condition of grey. Pray that you escape its mesmerizing effects and that you with the brightness of healthy hope, avoid this quicksand of a tortured mind.

For help with depression: Symptoms, Warnings, Solutions
05312012