My heart’s stuck
Of a moment
As good as made up
My heart’s stuck
Of a moment
As good as made up
It’s been a whole half a year.
And what a year it’s been so far.
Its almost time for mid year reflections. I guess it can always be time for reflection but this year I’ve been very focused on moving forward, how to get there, making goals, setting intentions, visualizing …
All the things.
I even have a journal made to help you set goals and intentions and act on them.
But I’m also exhausted, especially right now.
It’s been a week, even with the holiday. It’s been filled with good and bad.
Lately, all I can think is how very tired we should all be and how willing we should be to hold each other accountable and to demand change.
After all, change is the only constant. I’d argue that it’s the root of most fear.
How are you feeling as we come up on half a year? After this month? This week?
Happy Mother’s Day. Today’s yoga practice was “Rose Yoga”. Fitting.
Things are getting a little trippy. This is an instagram filter and I just happened to get lucky while playing with it.
My schedule has been completely decimated by this staying home thing (I think most people can say the same). I find myself playing with things like Instagram filters just so I don’t really have to think about anything else. My days have started to take on a weird shape. I wake up, I work remotely, my workday ends, dinner, family, pets then suddenly it’s 10PM and the scenery has barely changed.
Around Christmas I disappeared from here. It’s typical for me to take a break but it’s usually a week or so. Aside from a Merry Christmas post and Recap post I didn’t write anything after mid-December.
In November and December I posted half of what I usually post in a month.
In real life I locked myself in a bathroom stall at work and cried. I thought about not waking up more often than I had in years.
I wondered how I came back to this point.
This is a post I started in January. As we come to the holidays again I find myself thinking about this time last year and wondering if I should share.
I didn’t at the time because I honestly didn’t believe anyone would care. I pushed myself back to a childhood state of believing the things I felt were completely invalid. I felt if I shared then I’d have to immediately apologize for feeling that way and possibly even be punished for it.
It had been years since I actually had suicidal thoughts but last Christmas, for me, they were alive and well. I tried to remember everything I would leave behind. I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t really that bad because I could at least think of things worth sticking around for.
I tried to think about things I had accomplished. I tried to make sense of my life in terms of gratitude.
None of that stopped me from constantly thinking about ending it.
I don’t feel that way anymore but I fear at any moment it could engulf me again.
It makes me feel defective. Of course I’ve remained single. Of course I’ve had trouble keeping up with friends. Of course. Who wants someone that could slip into this at any time?
I say this year has flown by but in reality I just feel like I’ve lost it. I’ve felt mired the entire time and have struggled to get past it.
Maybe it’s a late quarter life crisis or a very early mid life crisis. Maybe it’s just a life crisis in general.
In reflecting over the past year I decided to share, if for nothing more than to get it off me. Maybe putting it out into space will help clear some of it. Maybe someone reading this needs to know they aren’t alone.
Suicide hotline: 1-800-273-8255 – they also offer online chat – You can also text HOME to 741741 (in the US)
They gave me one wish.
I didn’t have to think at all.
I leaned in to the candles and blew
Sending my wish flying
Out the window
Into the sky
Where I have no doubt
It tumbled to the ground
Landing at your feet
As no more than a whisper
For you to care
It nestled into you
Carving space in your soul
A silent uprising
An unsettled toll
Still you moved on
Unswayed by the thought
And in my dreams
You asked me how I knew
But I can’t answer you
This life has always torn us apart
Pictures, songs, art
The ebb and flow of loves tide
One beautiful memory at a time
The day Maude died she expected it. The white daisies rambling across the mustard colored wallpaper had already begun mourning. Large drops of water appeared over them and rolled to the floor.
“Good.” She mumbled. “This living business is for the birds.”
Maude glowered from her 5th story window.
At 11:59 she felt the air being sucked from the room as it began to spin. Her exhilaration dissipated when Gary appeared.
“What are you doing here?” Gary shrugged and motioned to the room as if to ask why he wouldn’t be.
“This wallpaper is a crime to interior design. Christ Maude, is this where you’ve been hiding?”
“I’ve never known you to be a connoisseur of design.”
“Down to business; I’m a busy demon. You’re not dying today Maude.”
Rage rushed from her toes to the very tips of her hair.
“What?! Do you know how long I’ve been here?! 1,517 years Gary!”
“I know, but they like the work you’re doing down here.”
“No! No! No!” The smirk dancing across Gary’s lips was enough to send her into overdrive. “Go get the kerosene. We’re going to the council.”
Gary’s smirk turned to a deep frown.
Word Count: 198
For Sunday Photo Fiction
I haven’t really written as much as normal (or what I view as normal) for a while and this is why. I wanted to get it out, put it down. I know its not a unique experience. I know others have experienced it, could be experiencing these same things.
How do you become?
“I am more than you wanted me to be.”
I was raised by an NPD parent and there are some things about that which never leave you. I have a lifelong sense of failure ingrained in me. I’ve consistently held myself back, not only because I just *knew* I was going to fail but also because I believed my successes were never really my own and *I* was never actually successful.
When I was a child if I managed to do something correctly you could rest assured that it actually was not correct and I was every derogatory name in the book for failing to realize the rules had changed without notification.
I never had a safe place. I couldn’t run away from my bully, he was ever present in my home.
That takes a toll with a price far higher than I think many realize.
It’s only been recently, in my 30’s, that I’ve begun really exploring who exactly I am, pushing myself to embrace the things I succeed at and allowing myself to feel those successes for me.
And it’s hard!
My inner voice is less critical now than it used to be but it can still be excessively critical sometimes.
The best way I’ve found to fight it is to intentionally take steps to move myself past these stages in my life. It could be easy to remain stuck, plenty of people do just that, but I know I can not.
I let go of the things I’ve clung to, essentially spring cleaning my mind. I clear my home of things that, in my inner critical way, remind me of my place as a failure.
Although I still find myself occasionally repeating the mantras of hate I developed, I have to admit I feel much better these days.
Verdant – RDP word of the day
Music – Dirty Three – Self titled
Sasha’s garden was everything Mari could never inspire in her own. Her belly too, round with verdant life in a way Mari would never know.
Rage in Mari’s veins blossomed as she feigned excitement for Sasha’s burgeoning life. Sasha’s roses brought home awards. Her daffodils sailed into a spotlight all their own. The baby kicked while she laughed on.
Mari took to a rusted axe in order to get the job done.
I forgot to time myself but I intended to aim for 5 minutes to start. This probably took about that long.