Depression

The woman resided to her comfortable space,
Secure within its walls of protection it provides,
Her energy depleted,
From the internal war she fights,
Often left feeling defeated.
She attends to her devoir as a worker, a student, a member within recovery,
Heavy is the feeling of everything,
Putting on deodorant takes all but her strength,
With great antipathy, she does the things she must to survive,
When she is out she does her best to be invisible,
Not daring to look up unless they see her insides,
When asked how she is doing,
I’m ok is the response she provides,
Emotional storms past,
As all storms do,
But this feeling of nothing,
Its passing is long overdue,
She refuses to call an armistice,
To roll over and let it possess her,
After all,
Tomorrow may be the day it gets better.

Words of the day:
Armistice: an agreement to stop fighting a war
Devoir: something for which a person is responsible; duty
Antipathy: A deep-seated feeling of dislike; aversion
Defeated: used to describe someone or something that has lost a contest or game..etc.

Things I Hated, Now I love

The service stretching on,
Continued yawns,
Forced to stand and kneel,
Stinky smells and songs with bad rhythm,
Things I hated, now I love.
Connection and family,
“One bread, One body”,
Songs from my youth,
Traditions now revered.

Cold winter day chores,
Expectations of hard labor clearing wood,
Lazy and much rather being up to no good,
Things I hated, now I love.
The crisp clean air,
The smell of fireplace wafting from where,
Football, warm stew, and buttered bread awaited,
Bonding together over the success of stacked wood on the porch,
Now prepared for frosty nights,
Sitting together around Christmas lights.

Being stuck making small talk to some relative I barely knew,
All the while wondering what my friends were up to,
Taking my leave as soon as I could,
Things I hated, now I love.
Barbecue, horseshoes, and swimming,
In twilight chasing fireflies and listening to stories of my family’s past,
Wishing to grasp the fond memories of all those things I once hated.
Those things that now I love.

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?

Future Me

This heavy sheath,
Draped around my shoulders,
Pressing against the curves on my hips,
Pulling on the skin beneath my arms,
Tugging on my second chin,
Hate oozing out from within.

Unable to perfect my goals,
Self-discipline steps out for a meal,
Dictating how I feel,
Not giving up,
But not getting there.
As my fat disappears, so will my isolation,
Acceptance and love, always just another 10 pounds away.
Unable to be seen, until I am worthy to be seen.

Cognitive dissonance puts the monster in hibernation for awhile,
Psychologically incapable of holding it for long,
But it returns,
It awakens,
Like walking out of a dark theater,
Disorienting.
Painfully blinding.

Digging in my heals,
Trying to stay in today,
Drifting,
Impatient for the future me,
You’d like her.

Destination You

Drinking in the richness of you,
My thirst never quenched,
Fluent in sweet sunny gazes,
Interpreting your heart from your kisses,
Spinning in orbit around your finger,
Gravity pulling me close,
Landing my lips on your surface,
My path lit by the stars in my eyes,
As I travel the journey of your past,
Exploring the peaks and valleys of your soul,
Stopping to rest in the pillows of your touch,
Enjoying the slight breeze of your breath on my neck,
As your delicate words drip on my ears,
My future lying in my arms,
The map clearly marked, destination, you.

Energy Storm

A thick foggy haze of fuck you, surrounds me,
The forecast had not predicted disturbed energy,
Perhaps there was a red sky this morning,
Or other signs that this was forming,
The disease under my skin,
My allergies of people kicking in,
Itching to run,
My emotional clouds smothering the sun,
Zero visibility through this thinking,
The rains of this storm have me sinking.
It’s terrifying, the drama, as it rages through,
Wondering, will this be the one to cause me to unglue?