Posts Tagged ‘relationships’

Discord is nothing new to me

The place I grew up a toddler’s finger painting called chaos

Innocence dragged through the mud

Hosed off and kissed on the forehead

Pretend that didn’t happen

At intervals it didn’t

Until

Innocence was stripped to the bone at thirteen

Came out of the womb with my hand raised in the air

I’ve been on to you from day one

So, you think I don’t see the lie?

Even though I love you

I won’t let your false tears pass my guard

My tears are real, but you’ll never understand them

Just like I don’t know you

You don’t know me

Never will

Your decisions are forgiven

because

To see you there

Frightened 

The child in you peering out through your eyes

My mind surrenders to my broken heart

No one should be alone

Not even you

Not now

Sometimes I turn to pain for comfort, darkness to cleanse and numbness to escape it all. And then I fall.      Panic sets in.        I reach for the closest heart and fall faster.    There’s no room for laughter when tears fall and the life lived fades into the past. Looking forward through a pane of foggy glass.   I capturing glimpses of what could be, at the moment, because a breath changes everything.    His hand. Her shoulder. The innocence of a child. Fury and blood. What does it all mean? He kills. She kills. One a hero. The other a villain. Which is which? Do we know the difference anymore? My life is my reach, my sight, what I hear, who I touch. Not always good. Not perfect. My goal is simple. To make progress.

Born with flesh of hardened steel and a sharp tongue

I told the imposter to leave

He was blood, but it poured over us instead of through us

A poison generations long

killed who he should have been

Hate possessed my father, and put demon in his place

I stood before him, he who wanted respect without earning it

he who hated us, blamed our mom, the breath of life for his miserable existence

and spent every waking moment sharing the misery

Mom is gone; deceased

Father alive: estranged

I have a family

I am happy

I am still shield and sword

I still protect my family

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think of you… sometimes when I’m lost

Wandering in the haze you created for me so long ago

We’re in the same room, but hearts apart

I believed you… in you

Until you proved me wrong.

Showed me your blood wasn’t strong

I asked you

Eye to eye who are you?

You lied.

I knew that was your reality

But I believed you…in you

Why not?

You said the words I wanted to be true

I thought of you the other day

Feeling sad

Surrounded by love

Two roles not filled

One by choice

The other…

I think of you…sometimes when I’m wandering

In the same room where your heart beats silent

Hoping one day you prove me right

To believe in yourself

Make that your reality

Why not?

It’s better to be surrounded by love

I’m not wrong

Though I try with every hesitant breath to be myself, there are times I do escape behind a mask. Sometimes I do not want to be seen, heard or engaged. Observing the world around me offers unfiltered insight and raw emotions. You can see much behind a mask, when they don’t see you peering out of its eyes….mouth. Doesn’t matter. Transformation happens within the span of a heart beat. If you blink you may miss the shine of a friend’s eye or the frown distorting your brothers face, in that moment when they think no one is paying attention.
When its time to lose the mask, I am seen and heard and engage with heart, sensitivity and genuine understanding. When we stand in the crowd as ourselves we don’t seem the same, but when we adorn our mask and watch, connections are obvious.

I love my life. My mind is full. My moods swing up and down, feeling the thrill and fear, but will never stop the motion. I read hate and cry. I read lies and shout in frustration. To free your mind is to free-fall into everything. Anything is possible. I fuel love and starve negative seeds. It is my way. I will die high before lowered into the ground. Life is everything death is a transition we all forget.

Anxiety

Posted: March 9, 2017 in life lessons
Tags: , , , , , ,

I am a strong woman who cries beneath blankets on my bed. Why? Now it’s from joy. Before, it was because my son suffered and I didn’t know it. And because I didn’t listen I made it worse. It’s a lesson I will never forget and a mistake I will never repeat.

This is the first year I could lower my guard, and dance the sly dance with an unseen demon without destroying my son in the process. He suffers from anxiety.

You can’t reason with anxiety. You can only learn to cope until the unwarranted bite from adrenaline is no longer associated with fear or a sense of doom.

From elementary school–until now–eleventh grade, was an uphill battle. A battle to get him to school. A battle to make him eat. A battle to make him smile. He’d lost so much weight one year,  we had to take him to a special hospital. Watching him melt into a gaunt, pale six-foot fourteen year old forced me to bog down into a fire that licked my heart everyday.

In the beginning, I thought like all fourth graders, he hated school. He cried and fought every step to the door. I cried and worried when I got home. This went on until middle school when he complained about his stomach. Soon after that his throat had issues which made it difficult for him to leave the house. I brought him to the pediatrician a few times but received the same response. It was nerves and he had to go to school. So he cried. I cried. And we both got angry. Every morning the stress grew until I decided to take him to a specialist. An ears nose and throat doctor.

Finally one answer. He had acid reflux. (Has)

He was put on medication and it did help his stomach and throat, but he still did not want to go to school. I needed more help. I couldn’t do this on my own.

We tried a therapist. It helped until this therapist fed his anxiety by feeding into his wish of home schooling. That’s when he lost a lot of weight. Fortunately the children’s hospital helped.

Next step, a friend referred a psychiatrist. He saw my son a few times to gauge his symptoms and then he put him on medication. I had always been vehemently against medicating children. I had to decide which was worse, trying to help the symptoms with medication or watch my son fall deeper and deeper into a depression that made him  lash out.

This Dr. is good. He didn’t go crazy or put him on anything that changed my son’s personality. My son is a funny, smart and creative kid. After a couple of months, with the help of this doctor, my son emerged. The happy go lucky kid I remember from kindergarten. It took a little while… a year to get the dosing correct, but now, though he still struggles, with the help of the medication, he can navigate the fog. I am so proud of him. He deals with his anxiety every day and everyday he wins more ground.

My children are my life. To watch any one of them suffer kills me. The greatest lesson I learned is, when any one of them are having a problem, to take myself out of the equation, don’t make it personal and to sit back and listen. They need me on their side, not against them when they are struggling with things they don’t understand.

It’s personal. DNA supported. Ancestrally complicated. And none of your damn business.

Okay. Ill give you a bit of something to take away from this obnoxious Diddy.

I don’t fear small minded people. Not my problem.

What I do fear cannot be changed by sitting back and eating popcorn.

The only course of action is take the bull by the balls and swing him around a few times.

Vulnerability speaks above bullshit.

Silence. On the outside.

Strategizing on the inside.

If you listen— the answer will come.

When you close your eyes and shut off your ears — don’t be surprised by an ambush.

Be prepared with a genuine smile

Sincerity emboldens

Believing you know more…is debilitating

Pursue happiness by keeping the know-it-all’s snapping the air at your heels

Observe with a shut mouth.

And finally— your path is your own.

You may find yourself on someone else’s path… or not.

If you allow them to pull you….you will fail the greater goal.

Lessons learned through experience stay forever.

False learning is fair weathered

Peace. Love. Respect

 

 

 

Fire, wind, water, earth and us

Coming at you like a natural disaster

You don’t want to fight

You don’t want to know

Living in a day dream while the rest of us face the nightmare

We stand dead center in the chaos and confusion

Roaring for humanity

Bloody fingers cling to justice

Broken dreams washed away by tears

Screaming to be free

We prepare for the war you ignore

You don’t want to fight

You don’t want to know

Living in a day dream while the rest of us face the nightmare

We won’t let us fall back into the void

A place where voices die

Where power resides in the telling of a lie

Say Thank You
Say thank you. Say thank you to the women who gave you a voice. Say thank you to the women who were arrested and imprisoned and beaten and gassed for you to have a voice. Say thank you to the women who refused to back down, to the women who fought tirelessly to give you a voice. Say thank you to the women who put their lives on hold, who –lucky for you — did not have “better things to do” than to march and protest and rally for your voice. So you don’t feel like a “second class citizen.” So you get to feel “equal.”
Thank Susan B. Anthony and Alice Paul for your right to vote.
Thank Elizabeth Stanton for your right to work.
Thank Maud Wood Park for your prenatal care and your identity outside of your husband.
Thank Rose Schneiderman for your humane working conditions.
Thank Eleanor Roosevelt and Molly Dewson for your ability to work in politics and affect policy.
Thank Margaret Sanger for your legal birth control.
Thank Carol Downer for your reproductive healthcare rights.
Thank Sarah Muller for your equal education.
Thank Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Shannon Turner, Gloria Steinem, Zelda Kingoff Nordlinger, Rosa Parks, Angela Davis, Malika Saada Saar, Wagatwe Wanjuki, Ida B. Wells, Malala Yousafzai. Thank your mother, your grandmother, your great-grandmother who did not have half of the rights you have now.
You can make your own choices, speak and be heard, vote, work, control your body, defend yourself, defend your family, because of the women who marched. You did nothing to earn those rights. You were born into those rights. You did nothing, but you reap the benefits of women, strong women, women who fought misogyny and pushed through patriarchy and fought for you. And you sit on your pedestal, a pedestal you are fortunate enough to have, and type. A keyboard warrior. A fighter for complacency. An acceptor of what you were given. A denier of facts. Wrapped up in your delusion of equality.
You are not equal. Even if you feel like you are. You still make less than a man for doing the same work. You make less as a CEO, as an athlete, as an actress, as a doctor. You make less in government, in the tech industry, in healthcare.
You still don’t have full rights over your own body. Men are still debating over your uterus. Over your prenatal care. Over your choices.
You still have to pay taxes for your basic sanitary needs.
You still have to carry mace when walking alone at night. You still have to prove to the court why you were drunk on the night you were raped. You still have to justify your behavior when a man forces himself on you.
You still don’t have paid (or even unpaid) maternity leave. You still have to go back to work while your body is broken. While you silently suffer from postpartum depression.
You still have to fight to breastfeed in public. You still have to prove to other women it’s your right to do so. You still offend others with your breasts.
You are still objectified. You are still catcalled. You are still sexualized. You are still told you’re too skinny or you’re too fat. You’re still told you’re too old or too young. You’re applauded when you “age gracefully.” You’re still told men age “better.” You’re still told to dress like a lady. You are still judged on your outfit instead of what’s in your head. What brand bag you have still matters more than your college degree.
You are still being abused by your husband, by your boyfriend. You’re still being murdered by your partners. Being beaten by your soulmate.
You are still worse off if you are a woman of color, a gay woman, a transgender woman. You are still harassed, belittled, dehumanized.
Your daughters are still told they are beautiful before they are told they are smart. Your daughters are still told to behave even though “boys will be boys.” Your daughters are still told boys pull hair or pinch them because they like them.
You are not equal. Your daughters are not equal. You are still systemically oppressed.
Estonia allows parents to take up to three years of leave, fully paid for the first 435 days. United States has no policy requiring maternity leave.
Singapore’s women feel safe walking alone at night. American women do not.
New Zealand’s women have the smallest gender gap in wages, at 5.6%. United States’ pay gap is 20%.
Iceland has the highest number of women CEOs, at 44%. United States is at 4.0%.
The United States ranks at 45 for women’s equality. Behind Rwanda, Cuba, Philippines, Jamaica.
But I get it. You don’t want to admit it. You don’t want to be a victim. You think feminism is a dirty word. You think it’s not classy to fight for equality. You hate the word pussy. Unless of course you use it to call a man who isn’t up to your standard of manhood. You know the type of man that “allows” “his” woman to do whatever she damn well pleases. I get it. You believe feminists are emotional, irrational, unreasonable. Why aren’t women just satisfied with their lives, right? You get what you get and you don’t get upset, right?
I get it. You want to feel empowered. You don’t want to believe you’re oppressed. Because that would mean you are indeed a “second-class citizen.” You don’t want to feel like one. I get it. But don’t worry. I will walk for you. I will walk for your daughter. And your daughter’s daughter. And maybe you will still believe the world did not change. You will believe you’ve always had the rights you have today. And that’s okay. Because women who actually care and support other women don’t care what you think about them. They care about their future and the future of the women who come after them.
Open your eyes. Open them wide. Because I’m here to tell you, along with millions of other women that you are not equal. Our equality is an illusion. A feel-good sleight of hand. A trick of the mind. I’m sorry to tell you, but you are not equal. And neither are your daughters.
But don’t worry. We will walk for you. We will fight for you. We will stand up for you. And one day you will actually be equal, instead of just feeling like you are.
~ Dina Leygerman, 2017