September 4th, 2019

(no subject)

It’s chilly this morning. When I got home from the clinic I caught my squirrel dragging its little butt across the lawn chair. The things we just don’t know. I thought I knew him pretty well. We are going to the bank today to apply for a business loan. I thank god for my sister and her tendency to be an anchor and take care of me. So much of this wouldn’t exist if it were not for her. I could tell her a million times and still feel as though the words aren’t enough. I’ve been very selfish lately. I’ve spent a lot of time in my own head expecting others to meet me there. I’ve taken things personally that weren’t personal. I’ve projected my emotions about myself on everybody else. Having empathy for yourself isn’t the same as blaming everybody else. Part of love is understanding. Part of love is acceptance. Part of love is knowing what you need, but also making room for the needs of others.

I am grateful for my relationship. I am grateful to be with the father of my child. In my expecting Loren to always be there, I forgot to give him reasons to want to stay. I asked him to leave even though I didn’t mean it. I expected him to know better while also giving him no proof. I asked him to ignore what I said and jump into my brain. Having a child is incredible. It’s also incredibly huge. It is a death of the old. It is a release of a part of you. Maiden to mother, and this is true. But there is no archetype for the father. He just is. I made him feel like he couldn’t do it. I also made him feel like I didn’t want him to try. I told him that he didn’t make me happy. I showed him that he didn’t make me happy. I don’t have friends of my own where we live but neither does he. I have people though. I have friends, even if they are far. I didn’t consider how he doesn’t share In that luxury. He has no one to talk to. He has no one of his own. To go through this alone? To do it alone. It hurts me just to think about it. It hurts me that I hurt him. I needed him more than ever but I ignored the ways he needed me too. I’ve left many times. I’ve done harmful things to him and he always welcomed me back with arms even more open than before. He’s waited for me and cried for me and he wants to share his life with me. How did I forget? I expected him to read my mind. To take the thing you love most for granted is the worst sin. Sinner. The most beautiful part of my world. The most beautiful person I’ve ever known. He felt like I was gone. He felt ugly and unwanted. He felt worthless and hopeless. It is me, my family. He has no one here. How scary it must have felt to believe that everything you’ve wanted didn’t want you.


I promise to kiss you. I promise to see you and feel you. I promise to remember. How it felt and how it feels. I would do it all for you. I wouldn’t trade you for the world. I asked you to leave and was surprised when you ended up with your hands inside of someone else, their moans warming the cold place I left. Their touch making you feel alive. I starved you of love and was caught off guard when you developed feelings for someone else. Someone who made you feel good. Wanted. Understood. Appreciated. I gave you nowhere to go and didn’t understand when you didn’t come home. You deserve sweetness. Slow kisses in the morning. You deserve to be wrapped in arms and legs. You deserve to feel safe. I could have lost everything I ever wanted. I feel the warmth already. You deserve to know that you make me feel whole. You deserve surprises. You deserve the best parts of me. You deserve poetry and passion and beauty. I forgot how to share myself with you. I withheld, withdrew, and wondered why I felt alone. You deserve the whole world. Companionship and compassion. You deserve a lover who remembers your humanity. You deserve excitement. Sustenance and seduction. Thoughtfulness and thoroughness. You deserve to be seen. It’s my favorite view. I forgot the glory that is you. The way you hold your pen and do your hair. The look on your face when you’re sleepy and content. The way your body feels against mine. The look in your eyes when you find out I want you. The way your body screams in excitement at the very thought. I can not resist you. I don’t want to. Bite my neck. Pull my hair. The sounds you make and the shivers up your spine. The way you look when you’re fixing our car. How gentle you are with our niece and nephew. The fire in your mind, unlike mine, but powerful and mesmerizing. The way I feel when I’m near you. I mean closeness. Your strength. Your power. The way the muscles in your arms pulse as you fix my tea. The feelings you have for me. We’ve been together so long. I felt your pain and chose to make it worse. All you wanted was for me to love you. You deserve to feel like a man. You’re my man. You make me feel like a woman. I made you feel small. Thank you for waking me up before it was too late. I want to give you the world. I know you’ll be a great father. Thank you for making me a mother. There is no one who could do us like we do. Your tears of relief satiate me. If I knew better....i want to do better.

(no subject)

Self pity makes me sick. Our society is drenched in this disease. We are taught “poor me.” We are taught to deflect and comfort ourselves in a blanket of ineptitude. Pity has always been more offensive to me than hate. Than disdain. Than disgust. Every moment is a choice, and we convince ourselves otherwise. What are you okay with? What makes you feel okay? To learn how to lean into oneself, to search deep in the dirty places of our souls and find comfort there. That is bravery. I don’t know any way to teach other than by example. Something like faking it til you make it or until you make up your mind. Knowing what you want only goes so far. Execution is everything. Death to the parts of yourself that seek comfort out of complacency. Head first and off with it. It will always be revealed, you just don’t know when. I’ve been surprised before, I’ve been surprising too. I blow my own mind wide open and pour the contents on the table. Piece by peace the rot gets picked away. But what will be left in its place? I have no promises here. Satisfaction is not guaranteed. Just because I will doesn’t mean I won’t. You can have it all, just not always at once. And all at once. With machine like precision, the infection will be cut away. Piece by piece and in pieces. Everyone is for me and I don’t mean on my side. Which side? I am wide open space. The world stretches out in front of me and I see it for what it is. Like those special days when the moon is high in the sky but it’s still the afternoon. I don’t know what I crave but I do feel excited to find out. I feel something new. I just have to remind myself. Trust is earned, even trust in self. I am a god. Holy ground. I am coming home to myself. My hands are empty and my eyes are wet. Something about speaking in tongues. In a language I haven’t discovered yet.

lively

Do away with the expectation of security. Do away with the need for distraction.

My ankles are swollen and I didn’t even notice.

(no subject)

The question is who do you want to be? The only rational next step is how do you get there? Everything else is in passing. I want options but I can hardly see. Blinded by the insight. You can’t punish anyone for their feelings (especially not yourself.) Intuition is one hell of a? Somebody, homebody. Harmful fun. When unsatisfied we project our dreams onto other people. Our hopes. They become huge and glorious as you stare up in awe. Awe inspiring. Cumming to terms with it, figuratively speaking. There are some faces we just can’t make. There are some we can’t shake. I could stare at you all day (until I look away.)

Where I go to sleep with one eye closed

I’m a god damned masterpiece.
Appreciation is appreciated but never necessary.
There is no room for self doubt.

I will stand here naked and hopeful and open and willing.
I will not question myself.

I require no certainty outside of that which I can provide.

What is in a promise that makes it so tempting? Why are we so eager to make it out to be....sure? I have nothing to convince myself of, only to discover.

And when the time comes
I will still be me.

and when the time runs out
I will just go.


There is no place to escape from ourselves
So we might as well make a home.
Home away from.

No I don’t think I’ll settle.
The movement calls my name in a voice I can’t resist