humm, what is it about us women? why do i allow my emotional sink to runneth over?
who really cares, right. seriously, i find myself asking why the difference in emotional capacity? i have witnessed miracles from a man. personally i have seen one look into the eyes of a truly loving better half and repeat the words Just Get Out! Girl, get up off your knees. Am i truly hearing this, is she begging for him to stay.
If you were to see this part played out on the big screen by juila roberts and jude law, you would connect with her and feel her pain. and because it is not you being ejected from a vehilcle, you even tell her to get up, she is making a fool of herself. if this happened to your best friend, you would bring ice cream or margaritas and bash it into her how she so much better, and next week she will do the same to you, maybe not about a man, but she will be there anyway, saying something important. but if it was you....
well i admire those that got out the first time he said that this just wasn't going to work....yeah, let me know how you ignored your body scurring to grasp each memory to go over later, how you knew even though there were 24 hours a day in which to replay these memories, You actually disregarded the songs, smells, foods, sex, looks, games, shows, driving experiences, bull shit, fights, childrens colds, growing together, that you did with that muther fucker, and you send me a damn message with instructions on what to take to turn off that part of the brain, thanks.
i can see how that is the right choice to make: but God blessed me with 0 percent rationality...so im having breathing problems im crying so hard, mumbling something as snot drips from my nose.....
feeling right then: if he actually drives down this drive way i will die. i dont know how to b br bre brea breat breath breathe without him, oh my god, no i cannot, i will not get out of this truck....just look at me baby, you love me, you love us...no just look at me and tell me you dont love me....God Damnit JUST LOOK AT ME....thinking how can you resist this face, crying with pain for you, you are not going to really hurt me this much, are you, after 45 minutes of pleading, reallly you look bad and he is thinking ,yeah, you really need to go you crazy bitch....
anyway, so i think even further back to see when i can pinpoint when this crazy, irrational behavior took hold of what was to be a brilliant package.yes it is true, i have acted a fool before, i remember being on my knees in a movie rental store....saying just come home with me, home being his parents or mine, cause it was just highschool baby....
wow, how embarrasing. i should not post that, but fuck it right, im here to be real. well, my lovely husband tells me all the time im crazy. he likes to group all women together in one category titled "fucking nuts" he purposly plays tricks on me and hurts my feeling often, teaching me in this mean world to lighten up, i think this is his message.? tough love i guess...or is it the MAN IN HIM.
only today did i realize im living my life scared im going to be back out in that driveway, or in that movie place. next time am i really going to beat myself up worse than any of you or you, ever could have?
no. i dont think i will. i see my daughters walking around my house with my attitude....oh my, is it scary. and actually a bit pathetic!
but, before i would have said yes. so lets all pray, all the time for strength.
strength to get up and walk away next time you find your self in any situation that is not worth your time. maybe by starting small, here around me, i will build my strength slowly, until i am a fortress of woman, who like man, can withstand tears, even if they are my own, and walk away.
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Self Help Pad
On my fridge next to painted handprints and school pics is a pad of paper with a magnet on the back. One day I thought I would write something on the pad, and maybe, just maybe my husband would read it, and it would inspire him.
Seven days later he looks at me blankly standing in front of the fridge, reading my "Shame never creates change." He repeats it like it was written twice and goes back outside to weed eat. Thats when I realized the pad on the fridge was going to be my own little self help sessions.
A week later my husband and I wake up on the wrong side of the house, both stubborn, pig headed and RIGHT. After saying all that could be said to him, I stormed into the kitchen, ripped my "Shame Never Creates Change" off the pad. Franticaly I search for any means of writing utensil, I come across a fat crayola crayon : blue for cold hearted..
If you have ever colored with a fat crayon, you know where I'm coming from. You can barely stay in the lines; much less write the lyrics pouring from my poor misunderstood soul.
I scrible in anger "I Create Change, ME ALONE." I went on to use the crayon for 2 pages of ranting blah is blah and yadda yadda yadda.....finally I calm down enough to find an ink pen, and finish my now eleoquent writing........I feel acomplished....
Now it is Saturday, more that a week after the original freak-out, and Wes finaly sees the new message. He looks at me as if he wrote it him self, for this is his excuse in "leaving me to hurt." I have to help myself.
Update: here is what was written on the pad in fat blue crayon. It helped to just get it out.
i create change, me, ALONE. and its so lonley here so cold but far from numb. I feel for both of us, you reason your way out. I dont kow another way, and at least i shared mine with you.
when it finally happens Ill know i caused it. ive been causing Hell for a while now. Maybe if my body was pure, my mind would start to resurface. Why does your mind have to be cloudy to be here? Loving me? We are losing track of all preciousness. One day i will simply BE LOST.
so late in the day when i realized it was the game we played morning after morning that lead us here. so late in the night when you realize your home is destroyed.
wiggling my feet in our cottney debris, i know your feet are somewhere. i will surly find them later. again i waken, this time surly going to snap out of this drearyness and swoop into your skin and warm my soul.
one day i might wake up to find you passed. forever gone till i come home.
i think id rather spend my entire life alone, than to love you and lose you. HOW SELFISH of me, selfish bastard, just like the one i married.. Now realizing it is my own head that is crazy, i have taken full responsibility for not being sane, or even smart, but i loved you with all of me.
we cannot spend another minute here. we must wake up and evolve with life. i surrender. im wrong. your right, from now until forever ill take the blame for life....my way of loving you has sufocated you. im sorry. IF YOU LOVE SOMETHING SET IT ON FIRE....and thats what i try to do, burn for you...
Seven days later he looks at me blankly standing in front of the fridge, reading my "Shame never creates change." He repeats it like it was written twice and goes back outside to weed eat. Thats when I realized the pad on the fridge was going to be my own little self help sessions.
A week later my husband and I wake up on the wrong side of the house, both stubborn, pig headed and RIGHT. After saying all that could be said to him, I stormed into the kitchen, ripped my "Shame Never Creates Change" off the pad. Franticaly I search for any means of writing utensil, I come across a fat crayola crayon : blue for cold hearted..
If you have ever colored with a fat crayon, you know where I'm coming from. You can barely stay in the lines; much less write the lyrics pouring from my poor misunderstood soul.
I scrible in anger "I Create Change, ME ALONE." I went on to use the crayon for 2 pages of ranting blah is blah and yadda yadda yadda.....finally I calm down enough to find an ink pen, and finish my now eleoquent writing........I feel acomplished....
Now it is Saturday, more that a week after the original freak-out, and Wes finaly sees the new message. He looks at me as if he wrote it him self, for this is his excuse in "leaving me to hurt." I have to help myself.
Update: here is what was written on the pad in fat blue crayon. It helped to just get it out.
i create change, me, ALONE. and its so lonley here so cold but far from numb. I feel for both of us, you reason your way out. I dont kow another way, and at least i shared mine with you.
when it finally happens Ill know i caused it. ive been causing Hell for a while now. Maybe if my body was pure, my mind would start to resurface. Why does your mind have to be cloudy to be here? Loving me? We are losing track of all preciousness. One day i will simply BE LOST.
so late in the day when i realized it was the game we played morning after morning that lead us here. so late in the night when you realize your home is destroyed.
wiggling my feet in our cottney debris, i know your feet are somewhere. i will surly find them later. again i waken, this time surly going to snap out of this drearyness and swoop into your skin and warm my soul.
one day i might wake up to find you passed. forever gone till i come home.
i think id rather spend my entire life alone, than to love you and lose you. HOW SELFISH of me, selfish bastard, just like the one i married.. Now realizing it is my own head that is crazy, i have taken full responsibility for not being sane, or even smart, but i loved you with all of me.
we cannot spend another minute here. we must wake up and evolve with life. i surrender. im wrong. your right, from now until forever ill take the blame for life....my way of loving you has sufocated you. im sorry. IF YOU LOVE SOMETHING SET IT ON FIRE....and thats what i try to do, burn for you...
Sticks & Stones
I have built up a defensive zone, around these things that I call mine.
Security measures never dreamed before, when I saw the dead end sign.
But the enemy forces have penetrated. They have set up camp so close.
Delivered a death punch gift wrapped in a friendly dessert dose.
Questioning my effectiveness, as a simple human being,
Swearing that inside me are things youve never seen.
Tears falling, and we beg you, please stop attacking me.
How much more do you need to die here, for you to set us free?
Living here inside these walls, are smiles you put in jeopardy,
Threating now not just one, but entire family stability.
We have run to a safe place, yet you found a weekness here,
Gather forces, attack, and kill us. year after year.
Each of us, reacting to the path in life we live,
Not made easier by anyone who has help to give.
We huddle together in flames of comfort,
Ones kept burning through the night,
Ones I will protect with all my breath,
Or die losing that fight.
Security measures never dreamed before, when I saw the dead end sign.
But the enemy forces have penetrated. They have set up camp so close.
Delivered a death punch gift wrapped in a friendly dessert dose.
Questioning my effectiveness, as a simple human being,
Swearing that inside me are things youve never seen.
Tears falling, and we beg you, please stop attacking me.
How much more do you need to die here, for you to set us free?
Living here inside these walls, are smiles you put in jeopardy,
Threating now not just one, but entire family stability.
We have run to a safe place, yet you found a weekness here,
Gather forces, attack, and kill us. year after year.
Each of us, reacting to the path in life we live,
Not made easier by anyone who has help to give.
We huddle together in flames of comfort,
Ones kept burning through the night,
Ones I will protect with all my breath,
Or die losing that fight.
Lost In Translation
out of the DARKNESS
an outstretched hand. 
Penetrating reality inside this dreamland. 
Smoldering
my cheek with its promising touch.Never knowing inside that I lacked so much.
You asked for my pain, I held onto it tight.
The wind picked up around me
in hopes of a fight.The place that you seek, it is hidden in here,
To get to my pain you will experience fear
.Some where locked inside, 
this has no name
this has no nameDeath and heartache...tears and shame.
This is me, 
I fight here for thought.
I fight here for thought.Exploiting dreams as happiness sought.
A thousand stories, a million lost;
dying words under an enveloping frost. 
This pain you see, it is certainly mine.
And I will glutton it, until the end of time.
See, I remember these scars and I medicated these cries. 
So stay away from me with your pretentious lies.
This is my place here, so please, GET AWAY
Take back your hand so my pain can stay.
Dripping Wet
a hand full of xanax and a hot bath should do.
I thought to myself as I threw my head back and swallowed those foul tasting pills.
I grabbed one of his beers and headed up stairs to the bigger bath tub.
I cracked open the top on that Miller Lite after undressing and slipped into the warmth.
I was distracted, happily by the rushing water over my manicured toes.
Gulping the beer down making statements in thought.
The tub filled quickly and I sat up to turn the water off.
I looked down at my breasts and sighed. my nipples almost submerged in warm water.
squirting my favorite soap that smells of lavendar and chamomille into my hands, I lather my arms, neck and breasts.
I push them together and admire my soapy cleavage and the cross that hangs down between them.
sinking back into the tub, watching the slow drip, drip, d r i p,
d r i p
Somewhere in another world I woke up.
There was a faint irridesent shimmer beaming from a lighthouse.
I floated nearer it seemed, but I was far away.
I noticed I was naked, dripping wet and goosebumped.
Cold for a moment until the warmth of life returned to my dream.
I floated in what seemed like hundreds of massaging hands.
I felt myself hit the land.
Getting out was hazy, fumbling with my own legs to stand. Shaky and in a new place.
To my right was a driveway, lit up by the moon. Miles long, and painted freshly by my mind with trees by the pair all the way up.
The shadows that fell from the limbs were haunting, I turned the other way.
There was a road so long, it made hills.
I began down it, towards the moon.
I walked past gardens and ponds.
The moon was pulling me in with its majestic beauty.
Naked I glowed like a baby.
Then it happened.
I saw a figure, blurry in my eyes.
Shaking my head, rubbing my head, I tried fiercly to focus on the image that seemed so comforting.
And when the image I saw spoke, he dissapeared.
"Wake up Ashley" my fathers voice said.
"Daddy, I want to stay with you"
"Wake up Ashley", my fathers voice yelled.
"Your Drowning Baby, Wake Up."
But it was all so comforting.
The gush of water felt like baptismal freedom,
The loss of life seemed so natural.
In an instant I was transported back here to my tub, eyes open
I am under the water.
My heart wanted to stay, my mind sat me up promptly.
I turned to my side in my bath and cried.
Now tears running horizontally dripping into my tub.
I shook it off, remembering the beauty of my dream.
Standing now, I run my hands over what God has blessed me with and thank him for saving me.
I return to my bed to continue my dream of land and earth, of life and death.
I thought to myself as I threw my head back and swallowed those foul tasting pills.
I grabbed one of his beers and headed up stairs to the bigger bath tub.
I cracked open the top on that Miller Lite after undressing and slipped into the warmth.
I was distracted, happily by the rushing water over my manicured toes.
Gulping the beer down making statements in thought.
The tub filled quickly and I sat up to turn the water off.
I looked down at my breasts and sighed. my nipples almost submerged in warm water.
squirting my favorite soap that smells of lavendar and chamomille into my hands, I lather my arms, neck and breasts.
I push them together and admire my soapy cleavage and the cross that hangs down between them.
sinking back into the tub, watching the slow drip, drip, d r i p,
d r i p
Somewhere in another world I woke up.
There was a faint irridesent shimmer beaming from a lighthouse.
I floated nearer it seemed, but I was far away.
I noticed I was naked, dripping wet and goosebumped.
Cold for a moment until the warmth of life returned to my dream.
I floated in what seemed like hundreds of massaging hands.
I felt myself hit the land.
Getting out was hazy, fumbling with my own legs to stand. Shaky and in a new place.
To my right was a driveway, lit up by the moon. Miles long, and painted freshly by my mind with trees by the pair all the way up.
The shadows that fell from the limbs were haunting, I turned the other way.
There was a road so long, it made hills.
I began down it, towards the moon.
I walked past gardens and ponds.
The moon was pulling me in with its majestic beauty.
Naked I glowed like a baby.
Then it happened.
I saw a figure, blurry in my eyes.
Shaking my head, rubbing my head, I tried fiercly to focus on the image that seemed so comforting.
And when the image I saw spoke, he dissapeared.
"Wake up Ashley" my fathers voice said.
"Daddy, I want to stay with you"
"Wake up Ashley", my fathers voice yelled.
"Your Drowning Baby, Wake Up."
But it was all so comforting.
The gush of water felt like baptismal freedom,
The loss of life seemed so natural.
In an instant I was transported back here to my tub, eyes open
I am under the water.
My heart wanted to stay, my mind sat me up promptly.
I turned to my side in my bath and cried.
Now tears running horizontally dripping into my tub.
I shook it off, remembering the beauty of my dream.
Standing now, I run my hands over what God has blessed me with and thank him for saving me.
I return to my bed to continue my dream of land and earth, of life and death.
Glimer of Hope
I remember walking through the door with my list. Now, shaking my head in memories, I'm wandering somewhere between ketchup and crutons. Stick to the list, for Christ's sake, stick to the damn list.
How did i get lost again?
I look down; and to my amazement I have followed this frail yellow amount of yarn to the end. It has almost unraveled in my hand. Wrapped fiercely around my three middle fingers, it throbs alone. My thumb fingers it, rubs it, my thumb obsesses over the softness in this life-line home.
It occurs to me: The scampering about that must have taken place as I raced to follow the string back home. All that time? Is it really over? Why cant I remember every second of the way,the way my body cries it needs too. I resemble an addict, watching the pipe, sickly waiting.
Pathetic really.
As I put the food into the pantry, I realize I bought you some cookies. Without realizing it, and having no control, my emotional sink pours over every detail. In the end i am scarfing down chips a hoy, dunking chocolate kisses in tears, drowning my reality again.
The person he must be inside. An emerging dragon of life that recklessly flaunts his fire. I'm covered in crumbles by now. My never endless thoughts have led me deeper into my dream.
Holding my phone, willing it to ring.
I've wrapped up inside your leather coat.
Meshing with the taunt smell,
Melting into my glimmer of hope.
Hours later I realize I've lost more life. I cant remeber if I slept. I dont know when I woke. Are these fragile walls real? Am i still here? I was the one who picked that throbing red color over the stairs. Now the shade deepens my ache. Nothing has ever been more fully real than this enveloping frost.
By this tedious minute, I should have died. Broken, I plead, "God, why can I not move forward?"
Reflections of years slowly mount up, exploding with midnight love making and taunting my neck with thoughts of your lips dancing slowly on my skin. But I must hate you, relive the hell, not the abyss I was so lost in.
So I admire how the serpent leaves the angel broken, violated and squirming to find that shred of truth.
I envy the power he posesses. Though the sad way he aquried it was foolish. I watched him harmonize with evil. He traded reality for chemical kisses, to keep himself strong. Deals like that will leave him flailing about worse than me. Worse than me.
Why could I not save him? Why was I not enough for him? We are but only human. The most adaptable creature there is. Why could we not adapt to this place? Our space. Ones that others spend lifetimes trying to aqurie. What selfish, worthless souls the Devil bargins for. No glimmer of hope here.
All my life lies in faith that my suffering was payment. Payment to He who sufferd first. My influence was simply not strong enough to show him, turn him, bring him here to the light. I feel I failed us. I took us all down in flames. Me, obsessed with showing him how dazzeling my own dirty flames could reach. Remember them: Burning you. Oh how we lasted all through the night on one spark.
Was it God who put out my fire?
Was it my quest for pureness that broke my heart?
Did I get rescued, the way i begged for you to do. "Save yourself," you screamed. I didn't know how.
Why feel worthless around the one who pays me in tounge lashings of both the positive and negitive kind; when there is he who shall pay me in a grander soul. One I've tasted, years ago when I was tickled to tears by my father.
A small ray of what I wanted,
What I yearned to be.
Maybe there is a glimmer of hope in me.
How did i get lost again?
I look down; and to my amazement I have followed this frail yellow amount of yarn to the end. It has almost unraveled in my hand. Wrapped fiercely around my three middle fingers, it throbs alone. My thumb fingers it, rubs it, my thumb obsesses over the softness in this life-line home.
It occurs to me: The scampering about that must have taken place as I raced to follow the string back home. All that time? Is it really over? Why cant I remember every second of the way,the way my body cries it needs too. I resemble an addict, watching the pipe, sickly waiting.
Pathetic really.
As I put the food into the pantry, I realize I bought you some cookies. Without realizing it, and having no control, my emotional sink pours over every detail. In the end i am scarfing down chips a hoy, dunking chocolate kisses in tears, drowning my reality again.
The person he must be inside. An emerging dragon of life that recklessly flaunts his fire. I'm covered in crumbles by now. My never endless thoughts have led me deeper into my dream.
Holding my phone, willing it to ring.
I've wrapped up inside your leather coat.
Meshing with the taunt smell,
Melting into my glimmer of hope.
Hours later I realize I've lost more life. I cant remeber if I slept. I dont know when I woke. Are these fragile walls real? Am i still here? I was the one who picked that throbing red color over the stairs. Now the shade deepens my ache. Nothing has ever been more fully real than this enveloping frost.
By this tedious minute, I should have died. Broken, I plead, "God, why can I not move forward?"
Reflections of years slowly mount up, exploding with midnight love making and taunting my neck with thoughts of your lips dancing slowly on my skin. But I must hate you, relive the hell, not the abyss I was so lost in.
So I admire how the serpent leaves the angel broken, violated and squirming to find that shred of truth.
I envy the power he posesses. Though the sad way he aquried it was foolish. I watched him harmonize with evil. He traded reality for chemical kisses, to keep himself strong. Deals like that will leave him flailing about worse than me. Worse than me.
Why could I not save him? Why was I not enough for him? We are but only human. The most adaptable creature there is. Why could we not adapt to this place? Our space. Ones that others spend lifetimes trying to aqurie. What selfish, worthless souls the Devil bargins for. No glimmer of hope here.
All my life lies in faith that my suffering was payment. Payment to He who sufferd first. My influence was simply not strong enough to show him, turn him, bring him here to the light. I feel I failed us. I took us all down in flames. Me, obsessed with showing him how dazzeling my own dirty flames could reach. Remember them: Burning you. Oh how we lasted all through the night on one spark.
Was it God who put out my fire?
Was it my quest for pureness that broke my heart?
Did I get rescued, the way i begged for you to do. "Save yourself," you screamed. I didn't know how.
Why feel worthless around the one who pays me in tounge lashings of both the positive and negitive kind; when there is he who shall pay me in a grander soul. One I've tasted, years ago when I was tickled to tears by my father.
A small ray of what I wanted,
What I yearned to be.
Maybe there is a glimmer of hope in me.
The Science Of Sleep
Sometimes I forget that I am here by myself.
My imagination creatively conjures up vivid dreams that bounce me peacefully through sleep.
Power serves my ego freely in my dreams because I recognize the scenery for what it is
Transformable. Fragile. Susceptible to thought and emotion.
More times than not, the part I loath comes when these visions start to crumble, warning me of waking.
I long to hold onto some of those moments.
But, I am always pulled quickly from Neverland and thrust into the land of the living fiercely.....
Ever wake up in the middle of the night and swoop into the skin that radiates the energy that warms your soul?.
My dreams feel like that safe place.
Balancing my need for those places with the stark shock of emptiness. Cradling my loneliness and tickling my heart.
Have you ever woke late in the night, feet moving, toes frantically searching for other toes? Fruitless searching that leaves you alone, with your memories.
Remember the complete void that rushes over your body like a pearl paleness?
Draining your color and your courage.
It is in those sharp moments I yearn to drift back to sleep.
Be foggy and hazy. Yet happy and full.
Even dreams end. I know.
But brief glimpses are better than no glimpse at all.
For in the existence of dreams, smells are reborn.
Long lost ways of touching my childhood actually flutter and dance and explode with memory so fresh I would trade moments of later happiness for more dreams like that.
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