Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Saying Goodbye

It's never easy saying goodbye, especially when you're saying goodbye to the "old you."  But that is exactly what I'm doing (and have been doing for the past 3 years).  It's a grieving process I had to go through in order for me to completely move on.  Forgiving myself has been the toughest, uphill battle.  Forgiveness; containing many levels, is a process I am learning to move through with the least amount of resistance as possible.  I cannot forgive everything he did, but I can learn to move on and look toward the future.  It's just better that way. 

So, goodbye to the scared girl of the past.  The one who hid from everyone, including herself.  Goodbye to the negative self-talk that creeps into my head.  There is no room for such blasphemy.  I now know it can be far more abusive and destructive to criticize myself in such a way that I limit my own progress.  I say goodbye to the restrictive thinking of my future.  Why not dream as far as the eyes can see? Maybe even a little further.  Quantum physics fascinates me, so why not play with it; picture that awesome picture of my future?  If we can picture it with our mind, we can have it in our reality.  I say goodbye to the pain and depression.  My writing will always help me weed through the despair.  I say goodbye to holding things in.  My silence is golden but it can also be a double-edged sword.  Words of the heart left unsaid only leave a trail of regret. 

My journey is not even close to being complete.  In fact, I've only just begun to get to find the very core of me.  I actually gave myself a time limit on my own grieving.  Healing comes in stages.  I've learned to accept each stage and learn from it.  I say goodbye to the girl that felt the need to compare herself to others.  I am unique.  I am proud of my progress.  I am proud of my willingness to grow and learn.  I'm most proud of my own self-honesty.  You'll surely see dark poems or blog posts.  It helps me to write about it.  To talk about it.  The more I do, the more healing it all becomes.  I don't break down in tears or go numb.  It releases the inner pressure.  I'm feeling so much better.  I'm in a far better place than I was 3 years ago. 

Naked Soul

I bare it all
Eliminating resistance
Letting my soul
Become
Exposed
Unafraid
of the
Perception 

Friday, December 27, 2013

What's With Walt?

Just what was Walt's problem? Walt Disney, that is.  Oh.  Don't get me wrong, I'm a sucker for his movies, but if you really sit down and analyze them, a whole new perspective can be had.  Bambi.  Mother deer shot.  I'm not a hunter, but I would've gone for the rack on that male deer.  Comprende?  Snow White and the evil whoever she was that fed her the rotten apple. Is it just me or does anyone watch that movie and think "Surely someone else in this movie deserved the rotten damn apple"?  Cinderella.  Sweet Cinderella with the evil stepmother and the spoiled rotten step sisters.  Are ya gettin' my drift here?  Women.  All women.  Personally, I like Jerry Lewis' movie "Cinderfella". 

It's late and I need to go to bed.  But not before I added this tongue-in-cheek post about good ole Walt.  Who, by the way, was a genius.  Still, I ponder, what's his deal?  ;)

Dressing Up a Toad

Go ahead
If you must
Dress up that toad
Lipstick bleeds
Blush recedes
The toad
Is still
A toad
I love fairy tales
I think most girls do
But tell me to kiss a toad
I'll check your head
Probably stomp on your shoe

Gathering

I don't gather leaves
While the wind is
Still blowing
I quietly step out
Of the center
Let the leaves
Fall as they may
The wind will
Surely stop
I and
My trusty
Rusty old
Rake
Will wait
For the wind to
Settle its temperamental
Meanderings
Gathering more leaves
Than I would
Had I started
While the wind
Was still blowing.

It

It
Has a name
Narcissistic Sociopathic Abuse
It
Entails
Emotional
Mental
Physical
Sexual
Psychological
Abuse
It
Keeps growing
With 3 women
Suffering right now
As I'm writing this
But the statistics
Keep changing
That number has probably
Grown to
More
The monster likes to be fed
With fear and isolation
Growing more sadistic as
The victim becomes wiser
Escape is the only answer
I'm absolutely convinced
There are those among us
Without a soul
How else to explain the
Constant need to see such
Physical despair?

*You more than likely won't hear of a victim speaking out as it's happening.  From what I've seen, it's the survivors brave enough to bluntly call out the utter disdain.  To shout from the roof tops, "This is insane."  Yet, it keeps happening.  The more we talk, the more aware everyone becomes.  I'd love to sprinkle glitter on this and make it all nice and pretty.  Seriously, though, you can't pretty up ugly.  It would be like trying to put lipstick on a toad.  I make light of some things.  I hope to holy doughnut holes it grabs your attention. 

Thursday, December 26, 2013

May I Never Feel Rested

In this one instance
May I never feel rested
As though the job
Is somehow complete
It is not complete
Until all voices
Have been heard
There are many
So many
Tormented souls
Crying from the inside out
All walks of life
With no racial or economical
Lines of demarcation
The prettiest face
Hiding some
Unspeakable
Disgrace
Or the ones we see
Walking with the
Black and blue
Badge of his dishonor
Marking a face
Like claiming some
Blasted territory
Animal rights activists
Get more attention
And certainly
Shouldn't we all be
Protected from
Animals?

Things He Couldn't Take

He took my kisses
Threw them back at me
But he couldn't take my heart
My soul
The very core of me
He silenced my voice
But my hand kept writing
My head a steady stream
Of poetry
My prayers were silenced
He found great joy in that
But God heard anyway
Turning dark dreams into light
He took my body
Only the outer shell
Too shallow to dig deep
Into my wishing well
Afraid of what he'd find
I'm guessing that's his Hell
He took part of my pride
Only a small part
If you're keeping measure
It's my courage
My passion
No one can take
That's the most greatest pleasure
My thoughts were a confused
Stream of his meanderings
The greatest control
He held
Now I'm away from it all
Clearer my thinking
Instead of backed into
My own wailing wall
He never took my hope
My vision of a brighter future
The wounds may be deep
But the scars are all sutured

Virtual Bonds

I watched him go
A sadness in my heart
The uncontrollable
Behind the wheel
I sat down with
Heavy-laden heart
Feeling my world fall apart
A constant need to
Protect
My lovely son

A lovely thing happened
While I was clearing my head
Devoiding myself from dread
A virtual person popped up
A survivor
With such a drastic tale
We instantly bonded
Repinning our tragedy
Into virtual
"Hale, Hale"

Eldest She-Warrior

She greets with a smile
A tinge of laugher
But through slanted eyes
Watches the wayward traveler

She is the eldest warrior
Watching over her daughter
Offering her best advice

She does everything
In sequence
Sometimes repeating the pattern
A warrior
Stomping her feet
Before resting her tired head

She checks the door
Then checks it again
To keep the darkness
From slipping in.

The Elder Warrior Consulting with Her Daughter

My mother continues to astound me in so many ways.  Her short-term memory is shorter than a list to a 5-n-dime store but hurt her babies, she'll make war.  This is a woman who lost her husband to an unexpected death and then gets a call from her daughter telling her in no uncertain terms she and her newborn baby are leaving a narcissistic abuser and "Pick me up right away."  A woman diagnosed with Parkinson's who shouldn't even have been driving in the first place.  But hot damn.  There she was in the dead of night like a beacon of light.  Fast forward to the present, three years into this ridiculous battle, and she carries her tomahawk; swinging it proudly.  I used to nearly bite my own tongue listening to her listening to my abusive ex; giving him hugs, no less.  Now I see a whole new side.  Sure she smiles politely.  And mutters some ineligible sarcastic comment referring to him under her breath.  He leaned in today and nearly shouted in his overbearing tone "What was that? Did you say something?"  She smiled sweetly "You better watch yourself.  You're in my house and she's my daughter." 

The visits have been ending earlier and earlier.  Mostly because Tot asks to come back home.  My mother danced and sang and did her she-warrior dance "We're coming to the end of this.  You know that, right?  He doesn't know how to entertain or bond with his own son."  She sat down on her throne in the living room and pointed her finger at me.  Laughing.  Telling me to keep doing whatever it is I'm doing because "quite frankly.  It's working."  What I'm doing is ignoring the mind games and emotional warfare.  I've learned no comment is far better than any screaming match against someone who wants nothing more than to see me lose control.  I've learned that smiling to someone who only wants to see tears or anger is a far better and more healing response. 

So tonight, as Tot finally went to bed at a reasonable time, mother and I discussed the very near future.  I personally savored this sweet moment of clarity.  She'll say the same things over and over again and "I love you.  I'm so proud of you" is among my personal favorites. 

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

The Child Will Decide

I reminded him of his visit
A change in his routine
Christmas Eve and Saturday
He looked straight ahead
Declared
"I don't want to go"
I held him tight
Reminded I loved him
Reassured him that
Could tell me anything
"Go and just be you. 
Always remember love.
It's what we do"
He nodded
Held me tighter
Whispered
"I love you"

*We sat and continued watching the rest of King Kong.  I sat & pondered his words.  The first time my 3 yr old Tot has voiced his refusal to see his dad.  His dad pulled into the driveway, Tot put on his coat..stomped in the direction of the door and muttered "Again? I have to see him again?"  By the time he actually reached the door, he made his decision. He turned to me "I'll be strong. Like King Kong."  I had hoped there would be more of a bond, but there clearly is not.  My child knows how to make his own decisions.  I proudly instill this in him.  I'm getting a picture of what the future entails and I tell you right now, I'm not worried.  Not nearly as much as I expected to be.  He will decide when he absolutely no longer wants to go.  I won't push his decision.  I know this all sounds weird.  I just know my child.  He's so much like me.  He needs time to think about everything.  A bit of an introvert.  Push the introverted child or person and everything falls amuck.  He knows and trusts that he can tell me everything.  More importantly, it's what he doesn't talk about that is more telling.  And that's when I fill him with more reassurance.  As I've mentioned in earlier blog posts, nothing abusive is happening during the visits.  It's just a bond that is not being filled.  My Tot knows it.  It's as if he goes now because it's his duty.  While I wait and watch the clock to strike 6:30.

Monday, December 23, 2013

Christmas Eve..Eve

I've been away from my fledgling blog.  Living a life that now has a life of its own.  My Tot & I are moving along.  Both learning the ropes.  Tomorrow my Tot will be away spending time with his dad.  So many things my boy is learning and moving through in his young life.  He now has separation anxiety.  To fix that, I have taken to going to bed when he does.  He stays up way later than your average 3 yr old and I have racked my brain trying to figure out a way to get him to go to bed when other toddlers go to bed.  You know what I surmise?  The boy is so much like me, he's going to do it his way.  No matter what.  On a completely selfish note, it works quite well going to bed during the work week at 9 pm.  10pm at the latest.  I get up at 4:30 am Monday through Friday.  And now my boy does too.  Go ahead and scratch your head and wave your finger in my direction.  Kids are so much smarter than we adults.  He's figured out he can spend more time with me by waking up at the crack of dawn.  He's forcing me to take care of my tired spirit (going to bed earlier than an 80 year old). 

So here we are.  This week off.  Time to bond.  My Tot got so flippin excited he literally made himself sick.  I don't know about you, but I'll be a happy person if I never see goldfish and grape juice on the flip side of an upset stomach.  This was the first year I was able to watch him build his snow man.  I missed it last year because of work and I cried for a week.  It's a milestone much like walking, talking, and laughing for the very first time.  I was able to watch "Despicable Me", "King Kong", and "Mighty Joe Young" with him.  Him.  Curled up by side.  "Save me, Mommy.."  That's his cue for me wrap my arms around him while we snuggle on the couch watching King Kong defeat the blasted, ignorant dinosaurs.  I still have 3 baskets of clothes to fold but nap time wins precedence over that every single time.  3 hour naps and I ain't afraid to brag. 

Santa whispered in my ear last month to buy his presents and wrap and hide them promptly.  So.  I complied.  Thank God I did.  A mountain of bills don't measure the wonder on his little face as he looks at the Christmas tree telling me over & over what I should tell Santa what he wants for Christmas.  Last month, I was really in the dumps.  Now? I am excited.  Christmas music playing in the kitchen as Mamaw and Tot argue kindly on the best way to load the dishwasher. Tot and I fairly agree that bowls belong on the bottom rack but that is so beside the point. 

So tomorrow, my oldest brother and his tribe will flounce around this house.  Our voices will carry into the next neighborhood.  We're German and Irish through and through.  We hug, argue about the tightness of such hug, yell in absolute disgrace, hug again, eat, watch mindless T.V., tell the same stories, and argue about the telling of these stories.  Tot, like he did last year, will take mental notes and meet with me later. He'll laugh and talk endlessly about his favorite cousin.  We'll both go to bed with sugar plums dancing through our head.  Christmas day is mine to spend with Tot.  We'll laugh.  And laugh a lot. 

You Will Love

Truth be told
You will love
If it happened
Once
It will happen
Again.

The Longest Nights

The longest nights are not
Sitting alone
The longest nights are
Those nights
Awake
In someone else's dream
Without hope
For reality.

Winter Moments

It'll be a long
Cold winter
If you sit
Looking at
What you're missing
No arms for hugging
No lips for kissing

Oh, the long
Cold winter nights
With the chill
Settling in
Don't spend it
In regret
Or basking
In sorrow
For the days & nights
Will just keep going
Enjoy each moment
They are given to you
With great care.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Gray Wolf Summit

Hidden from view
Tucked between the
Mighty peaks of
Mt Olympus
A place where reality
Slips away quietly
Nature
Resting comfortably
The safe zone
Where the
Gray wolf
Can roam.

Ode to Nanette

Gunslinger walk
Rough voice
Brash talk
She reminds me
Of me
Get her alone
Safe
In her comfort zone
You'll see the lines
Melt
Smiles sweetly
Talkin' about babies
All their future maybe's

It was on my worst day
She caught me off guard
Her voice dipped
To a husky growl
Eyes flashin'
Smile sparklin'
She told me of the day
She left
Him

There in our concrete cave
Our conversation becoming
A warrior chant around
Our invisible fire
It was sunny that day
But by the way we laughed
Somewhere
Someone
Felt our thunder
Felt our lightning

Noticeable

I'm fine
She said
Then tipped
Her head
Tears spilling
Down her ashen cheeks

Why ask
When you
All ready know
Maybe some kindness
To show
That you truly do care

Closed Door

I said hello to the
Dark void
Again
Only this time
It really
Pulled me in
I knew better
Looking that close
At the past
Before you know it
You're lost
That's the crux of it
The sheer Hell of it all
I knew writing about it
Merely to tell you
Could possibly take me back
To the Hell I had escaped
And it did
But not as far in as it
Would've liked
Before the demons could
Clutch my skin with
Their steely claws
Light seeped in from under
The closed door
Proving to me
Light will always find a
Way to enter.

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Velvet Verse

Night surrounds the poet
Words gently landing
On stark white pages
It is here, in the cover of night
We write
The soft verses
To ease the senseless curses
Harsh parlay of the seemingly
Endless day
The words
Caressing the hard edges
Velvet

Chaotic Lines

Crossing the
Chaotic lines
Drawn in the
Continually
Blowing sand
No line is ever
Complete
Blurry vision
Looking into the
Sun
Making footprints
In the sand

Saturday, December 7, 2013

Litmus Test

My warrior lawyer said it best, "It's a test the court must do.  They won't know the results until the litmus paper is dipped in the chemical..."  The litmus paper being my son and the chemical my ex.  I sound cynical here.  Truth be told, I'm tired of being cynical and anxious and angry.  Maybe everything will turn out all right.  January will bring forth more answers.  Time for me, personally, to meditate and pray.  At this very moment, I feel as though everything will work out so much better than I expected.  I have my days, but right now, I feel relaxed.  I've worked hard to get to this point.  Many times I thought of giving up.  Came dangerously close to shutting down both mentally and spiritually.  Tonight, however, I'm reminded of the time I first found out I was pregnant.  So many people around me said it would never happen.  My little mind kept imagining my baby, though.  So on a Saturday night, much like tonight, I locked myself in a tiny bathroom and performed my own litmus test.  Never mind that the 20 previous litmus tests all came back astoundingly negative. That night was special.  I almost threw the test in the trash before the results were complete.  And then, there it was.  A faint, blue line.  Vertical.  Positive.  The dreams leading up to that moment all made perfect sense.  So much like they do now.

I study my dreams like a meteorologist studies isobars and cumulous clouds.  My dreams are so positive now.  Vivid and in color.  No more black and gray (for the moment).  My near future is happy.  Better than I could even dream about.  I wake up now with a sense of hope.  I'm not too selfish to say, I need a lot of hope right now.  Some dreams are so vivid, I have to actually remember this life I'm living in right now.  The fact that they're coming more frequently now is just beautiful to me.  On days where like last week, where I was lost in some kind of despair I can't even put into words, I remember my dreams.  It inspires a lot of my poetry.  Which opens the door further.  Because you see, my dear friend reading this lil ole blog of mine, in my dreams I'm also talking to editors and publishers and hammering out a book deal that will blow your pretty, little mind.  Don't think for a minute I'm sitting idly by on this in my waking moments.  All things coming in patient moments.  The waiting well worth it.  So.  Here I go.  Patiently waiting the moment.  Praying for only the best.  My son is thriving.  I don't think there's anything that can stop that.  Not while I'm alive.

The Long December

December cast her
Cold, steely gaze
On me
Her eyes
Slowly blinking
Foretelling moment
For the
Long
Cold
Days ahead
Snow came quick
To vanquish
The warmth of summer
And she
She just smiled
Her frosty breath
Floating in the air
I'm forced
To rush inside
Wrap myself
Under my warm
Soft
Blanket
Counting my blessings
My dearest of friends

Suspended Moment / Caught in a Dream

It was near the end
Of the dream
Mere moments before
My mind
Became
Fully awake
Walking alone
Steps following a pattern
Not noticing a thing

Around the corner
Beneath the stairs
The Indian chanted
Knowing
I would slow my steps
Turn
To notice him

He was familiar to my soul
I
Feeling immediately comforted
Amongst the vast changes
Taking place and
Many more still in waiting
His presence
Beckoned me
To feel the moment
Slow down
Pay attention.

Dreaming

It has been so long
Since I dreamed
In this sort of way
No longer shrouded in
Darkness or
Cover of night
My dreams are now
In full color
Bright as the day
Full of light.
 
 
 


Monday, December 2, 2013

Call Me Needy

I need you now
More than ever
Holding tight to
Our bond
Not wanting to sever
Maybe I ask too much
Or simply not enough
The cuts of this life hurts
Praying my soft edges
Aren't really too rough
You'll shake your head
Say I'm not alone
I know God is with me
But this room
Feels so cold.

The Letting (Poem)

It's a cold, cold day
When I let it all out
Dripping
Piercing
Words on a page
Bleeding out my story
Letting out
Letting in
Watching emptiness
Spin

It's the letting
The double-edged sword
A choice that cuts deep
Slicing me in two
Wondering how deep
The push
Of the silver blade

Lonely is the cut
Knowing
Sympathetic eyes
Can only do so much
Alone to face
The sword's deepest thrust.

Sunday, December 1, 2013

The Letting

3 years.  How much more can I take?  Quite a lot, it seems because it still goes...and goes.  The letter came in the mail last week.  Bold type this time, so I wouldn't miss its point "We are reviewing this case in detail for a pending overnight stay.." I frankly stopped reading and threw that blasted letter away.  I panicked.  Found my son playing innocently in the living room.  Banging trucks and making highways with cardboard pieces.  He looked up at me and smiled so sweetly.  My heart jumped and melted all at the same time.  The court is letting my ex trial an overnight stay. An ex with an abusive past, a current drug addiction, and an unstable emotional stance on life, overall.  The court is reviewing the "importance" of further future drug testing. Migraines and nightmares started immediately after receiving that letter. My son's safety is in judicial hands that blindly trust the outcome will be an outstanding success.  I, on the other hand, have my well reasoned doubts.

January is the next court date.  Time for me to prepare mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually.  That court document made me feel abused all over again.  I have to get my thinking straight if I'm to move forward.  From the court's stand-point, "He never abused your child."  Then there is all the fine proof of his anger management classes.  Excuse me if I sound a little bitter here.  One workbook with a couple of sentences written about how he feels better about the world does not, in my mind, mark him as healed.  The court simply does not know him like I know him, or how my son is beginning to know him.  No he is not physically abusive to our son, but he has an abusive tendency.  Tendencies which stretch further than merely physical.  My son is 3.  And he's all ready beginning to see. 

My tot is bumbling and happy.  He says please and thank you and gives hugs to make the boo-boo's go away.  He's smart.  Very inquisitive.  And he remembers minor details that surprise me, given his young age.  Once a week for 6 hours my son visits with ex.  At the start of the unsupervised visits one year ago, tot handled everything exceptionally well.  That was, unfortunately, a short time. He quickly transitioned into questioning, worry, anxiety, even anger.  Now?  Now is even worst.  He comes home quiet. It takes a little while before I can get him back into his comfortable routine.  It's a blessing that he can now talk to me about the visits.  The most I can get out of him is that he's not allowed to really be "him." Play time is different.  Reprimands are different.  He's dropped off at grandparent's house once in a while during these visits while "Daddy drives errands."  They sit and watch T.V.  So, basically, my tot is bored.  No big deal, right?  I question where the bonding is in all this.  My son does too.  Often.  He questions everything, as any normal 3 year old would. 

So the overnight will happen.  And I will let them...after I am assured there will be routine drug tests.  At least for however long the court deems appropriate.  I do have a say in this and I will stand up for the safety of my son.  I've skimmed over details about my ex because I'm pretty much numb to all of it right now.  I know him.  The court has no clue.  Not like I do.  I don't want my son to see the worst.  To be exposed to an environment where I won't be immediately at hand to help or quickly protect him.  It's this final "Letting" stage that is tearing me up right now. But as one lawyer explained to me "You have to let it happen.  The court needs to test how both your son and ex will react to an overnight stay."  Her advice and encouragement stay with me and keep me strong.  Along with a select few friends who are emotionally strong enough to let me completely vent and tell them all the gory details.  That lawyer understood my stance in this.  She, herself, was in an abusive relationship and had to face the very same thing I am facing now.  Like they say, you will never completely understand unless you actually lived it.  So what did SHE do?  She let it.  She let the visits become more and more extended.  She let the overnight stay happen.  She let it all sink in that, sometimes, we don't get to control all aspects of things we most want to control.  She understood my fear of letting my son stay with my abusive ex.  She basically told me how I would spend that night.  "You're not going to sleep.  You will stay close to phone and worry uncontrollably.  Let it all happen.  Roll with your emotions but stay strong.  And demand a phone call before your son goes to sleep that night.  You want to be able to hear your son's voice for possible changes...fear, anger, etc.  Voice inflections that are not normal for your son."  So I will do that.  All of it.  Demand further drug tests, demand a final phone call to say good night to Tot;  demand the court to respect the precarious balancing act this really is.  It's not just me that must go through all of this emotional warfare.  Now it's my son.  It's always been my son, but now he's really blossoming and soaking in more information. 

And still I want to cry.  I want to be able to promise my son that everything will be all right and I simply can't.  My ex will never be dependable.  Not emotionally, or otherwise.  This, I have learned.  The hard way.  This is what I don't want my son to learn.  It's a lesson no child should have to face.  It goes much deeper than me not being able to tuck him during that overnight stay, or kiss his cheek and hum a lullaby.  It drives deep into the heart of me.  Will he be safe?  Will ex be able to handle Tot's crying?  Will he be able to handle the emotional outbursts?