Come For a Walk With Me

Walking with my dogs,
Sun beating down,
Shadows from tree leaves dance on the ground,

I have to pee

Ok…I am a block from the house, 
Harping on this will not make me arrive any faster,

Breathe, do my mantra, “I am worthy of love and connection.”

I need to clean the bathroom, it is so dirty, once I get that done I can sit down and relax. Then I’ll be happy.

Ok…I am a block from the house, 
Harping on this will not make me arrive any faster,

Breathe.

It smells like a early summer morning,
Shortly after I mowed the grass for my father in my youth.

Breathe.

God, why does Andie have to take so fucking long to smell that mailbox. Seriously, this is ridiculous.

Because this is their time, they sit in that house while I do God knows what, let them enjoy this time. How selfish I am.

Don’t fret, I give them a much better life than most. Many people don’t even walk their dogs. I love them and I am doing my best.

Apparently a third voice has decided to chime in,
To try to absolve me of my sins,
Breathe, feel the sun warm on my skin.

I need to get back and clean that bathroom. It’ll take me an hr at most to do everything I need to do in the house. Then I can sit and enjoy the rest of the day. I’ll feel so much better.

It repeats.
Breathe, “I am worthy of love and connection.” Breathe.

God here they go again. Charlie is going to pee on Andie’s head. I swear he fucking loves to give him golden showers. What the fuck. 

Anger rising up from within,
Where does this come from?
Breathe, breathe, breathe.

Here comes a truck. Don’t make eye contact. You’ll have to smile or nod. I hate social pleasantries. Just look at the ground. Act like you are busy corralling the dogs. 

What kind of love and awareness am I brining into the world with that attitude. What’s wrong with me.

Breathe. One step. Feel my feet touch the earth. Breathe.
Beauty. Colors. Chirping of birds.

Wait is that kids I hear? God please don’t let them come over here. They are going to ask to pet Charlie. Charlie is going to be an asshole and act like he is going to bite their face. It is going to be this whole ordeal. It is going to stress me out.

Well if I think like that I am going to attract that situation. Laws of attraction remember.

Breathe. Release. “I am worthy of love and connection.” “Financial abundance is on its way.” Breathe.

Third season of Handmaids Tale. I wonder if binge watching this has fucked with my head. 

Breathe. Eyes close. Breathe. Sun warms me. Breathe. “I am home.” “I am home.”

I need to clean the bathroom. God it is so fucking dirty. Ugh, it is totally making me feel like shit.

Irritation building up inside.
Ruining this moment. This moment which has absolutely nothing wrong it. A perfectly fine moment.

You know as soon as you clean the bathroom, your brain is going to find some other issue to bitch about.

Breathe. Smell the fresh cut grass. Breathe.

Recovery

Peers at work ask me about my plans,
Anything fun?
Yard work, perhaps some homework,
No doubt my life from the outside probably sounds lame,
Perhaps if I told them the whole truth they’d still think the same,
I drive to a church where strangers meet,
To sit in a circle and reflect,
In this divided society,
We sit and connect,
What my peers don’t know,
Is that I’m in recovery.

It was Saturday, talking to a girl from the other coast,
What’d you do tonight she’d ask after coming home late from a party,
I went to a meeting…
The conversation would shift, eventually we drift,
Clearly her night was better?
That Saturday I listened to someone share about their bottom,
Bringing back memories of the things I did when I was blacked out on alcohol,
I went home feeling lighter,
What were my problems? … I don’t recall,
Just another night of rolling around raw in vulnerability with others,
What a blessing,
Truly humbled,
I’m in recovery.

What is it that you do for fun? I assume normal people wonder,
The answer is anything,
I’m no longer encumbered,
Fear does not hold me back,
My fun no longer requires me to numb,
Most days I am happy with a cup of coffee, two people, and simple talk,
I have peace today in this life I walk,
Early on it was, “why’d I have to be this?”
Now I’m ecstatic that I get to live a life of service,
Continued growth and self-discovery,
Each day I get the opportunity to be a better me,
I’m in recovery.

 

 

 

 

After the Fact

When she struggled with her painting I quit mine and we worked on hers together,

When she needed to go slow down the stairs I hung back and let her,

I didn’t ask for my slippers back even though my feet were cold,

I played those extra games of cards even after it had gotten old,

What an amazing person I wasn’t because these things didn’t happen,

I focused on my painting and she quit painting to play on her phone,

When we left the store I rushed to the car leaving her on her own,

The minute she took off the slippers I grabbed them and put them back on,

And when asked to play cards again I went to nap with a yawn.

I really wish I was capable of being the person I realized I could have been,

Instead of hours later, at the time I should have been,

The road to hell is paved with great intentions,

Pretty sure Im on my way with all these missed ascensions.

My heart constantly broken by my thoughts who betray,

Not sure how I got this way,

So flawed and incapable of the compassion, encouragement, kindness, and patience that I want to give,

This is not the life I want to live.

Morning Meditation

The dog barks from somewhere outside,
High pitched shrill barks,
A small dog for certain, Perhaps a Maltese…
Clearly unhappy for being left,
Is this an irritation? Or an opportunity to become present?
The cooler which contains the 5-gallon jug of water,
Buzzes and rattles as it seeks to cool the water,
Smacking it will only cause it to reside briefly,
Is this an irritation? Or a reminder to return to the present moment?
The dog stops barking, the cooler ceases running,
Quiet. Lack of noise. Silence seems so profound,
Gratitude for the noise, causing the absence of it to bring great peace.

Sensing the body, how is it today?
Appreciating all the areas that don’t ache,
No tension headache,
The lower back is tolerable, the left knee feels great.
Enjoying a full breath.
The air is refreshing and cool as it flows through the nose,
Expanding the lungs in a fulfilling stretch,
Sitting deep inside this body.

Observing the mind as it tries to find problems,
After all, that is the job it has been given,
To find and fix problems.
The dog begins barking, bringing back the present.
Breathe. Set intentions for the day. Begin.

Why I Write…

I am a 36 introverted divorcee who lives alone with two dogs. I work from home. I go to school online. I have very few friends. Writing is what helps keep me sane. There are days where the only one who hears my words are my dogs and this screen as I type them. I post my words out into the digital universe, realizing that they potentially will never be read, but somehow the slight chance that they will, makes me feel less alone. Writing makes me feel heard.

Relationships are hard. I get triggered by people. I take meds to try to make me more balanced, practice mindfulness, go to therapy. I do all kinds of things, but in the end, being alone is just easier. It is less painful. I think of myself as a fairly funny person with a good amount of insight. That is the one good thing gained from a ton of isolation, you become extremely insightful. I’ve begun to accept that my life, for the most part, will be an alone journey. An extremely insightful one, and from this I will do my best to make lemonade from lemons. I will continue to try to find purpose. To be a better person than who I was yesterday. To enjoy each moment for what it is with comfort in knowing that this is the path that was handed me. A path that has many positive aspects. We all have positive and negative aspects of ourselves and our lives. The discontent is found when looking at those around you and comparing.

Writing to me is release. It is like taking the steam kettle which is screaming like no one’s business and removing the heat. It is taking the 2-liter of soda which I just dropped and accidentally kicked across the kitchen and slowly loosening the cap. It is the feeling of taking your shoes and bra off after a long day. For those that drink, it is the feeling after your first drink. I can turn to it when overcome with emotions, good or bad and I can write until those feelings become more manageable. Neither emotion in their extreme form is bearable to me. When I write I am not judged or critiqued, at least not during the actual act of writing.  While writing I do not feel anxious that someone is tired of hearing me talk. That I might be, being selfish by only expressing my thoughts. To write for the sake of writing, with no intended audience, there are no rules. No limits. No restraints. True freedom of expression.

When I write, there are times when I feel tapped into something almost supernatural. I can physically feel my heart peeling open and some sort of energy, flowing out or in, or both. The words, that flow, almost don’t seem like mine. I feel apart of something much greater than myself. Other times when I write, I am very aware that it is just me. That is ok too.

When I sit down to my computer, there is a sense of excitement, because I rarely know what words will end up coming out. Sometimes I am quite pleased and other times, I think, what rubbish. Regardless of what I think, how I feel is always better.

There are days and times, when I will be out doing something and I am struck with this overwhelming need to write. It is almost like the writing fairies tapped me on the shoulder and whispered sweet nothings in my ear. I can’t wait to get back home to write and I just pray that the inspiration doesn’t leave before I get there.

Writing is my companion. My dearest friend. It listens, it accepts, it is always there whenever I need it. Writing is a dream, a vision unexplored, new territory just waiting to be discovered. It is a sad monologue in times of grief, an angry rant about the unjust world, a sappy poem from a love-struck heart.

I am never sad when the words stop. I expressed what was needed. It is similar to the last bit of toothpaste being squeezed from the tube. Being drained but in a good way, like the relief when after the second flush everything goes down. I know the words will return. They will ask to be shared and when they do I will be here, ready and waiting.

Compassion?

Where do you find compassion?
Where does it hide?
Why do I have so little?
Why am I so mean to me inside?
Others recommend, treat yourself as you would a friend,
Unfortunately, I am also hard on them.
If I have no understanding of my own mistakes,
How can I have any for yours?
How do I cross this ocean of self-damnation to forgiving shores?

It’s hard to see a future when things will be different…when I will be different,
When you’re in your emotions things feel like they will always be the same,
Looking back I know, that statistically, this isn’t true,
As long as I keep seeking change,
My circumstances will change and I will too.

Someone said recently, that what kept him going was the thought,
That what if tomorrow is the day when things will get better?
Castaway said it best, “So now I know what I have to do. I have to keep breathing. And tomorrow the sun will rise, and who knows what the tide will bring in.”

Vulnerability

I unbutton my shirt and open the window,
Revealing the dirty parts of my heart.
With my words I display my flaws,
Forming a mirror in which is a reflection of you.
Courage departs to doubt,
Did you hear me? What do you see?
Old wounds lying bare, scabbed partially bleeding,
Each disclosure rubbing them ever so slightly.
Am I being helpful or seeking acceptance?
Does it aid in my healing or delay it?
Painful to be seen, but even more so to carry this alone.
Relate and not compare.
Connection only through the removal of masks.
I will continue to expose myself to you,
Will you get naked with me?