Today


 Today I woke up feeling horrible.
I struggled to get out of bed and to send my kids off to school before collapsing back into bed.

Today I realize how incapable I am of being super mom.

Today I die a little inside at the cruel hands of life, and today I attempt to suck up my weakness and fragility and at least do something. 

Today I have so much stuff to do, but most of it can wait.

Today I have kids to feed and a house that can be messy at least one more day.

Today I will give up on everything that’s not important and try to do what I can, which might not be much.

That is the story of today.

There is a possibility of tomorrow being different, which gives me the strength to get through today.

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RIP


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RIP all the bs I’ve written out of some screwed up idealistic and totally inaccurate view of myself and what I’m supposed to be. I was looking over some of my old posts, trying to find the time frame of certain things from 2012 that I should probably not talk much about, and I couldn’t help but notice that for a while I changed, said stuff I didn’t mean, and hurt people who actually were not trying to screw me over. Never again.

I hereby vow to never write something out of some misguided sense of loyalty, or trying to appease someone, or some other screwed up reason. I will never again put myself in a position where my entire world hinges on someone’s idea of who I am, or who I should be. The posts I wrote then, and the fact that I hurt people who were truly my friends, online or not, sickens me and it will not happen again. Ruining the friendships I had built here was an absolute mistake, but I was too weak and insecure to see that. That version of me has died. No one will ever coerce me into writing things that I don’t feel true again, and I’m so sorry I ever allowed it to happen.

Hurting


  

Yes, there’s the emotional pain of abandonment and loss and rejection, of my…nevermind. I shouldn’t even talk about that heartbreak. 

Physical pain is kicking my ass at the moment. It feels like my legs are burning and being crushed at the same time, and then they spasm and I can’t describe it. From an 8 to a 10. Thankfully each only lasts a second, and they only come every 30 seconds or so. Nothing like real pain to distract you from emotional bs. 

That said, I’ll always miss you.

Broken


Broken_Toys_by_Faryndreyn

Broken toys, some of us are.

Damaged bodies, riddled with scars.

Caught forever in between

A normal life, and something obscene.

Atrophied legs, unwholesome parts,

Distract from the beauty of our hearts.

But who cares about that anyway?

Life is a game, we are forced to play.

It doesn’t give the broken a break.

It doesn’t care that it made a mistake.

It makes some perfect I suppose

To rub it in the cripples’ nose.

You’ll never be beautiful

Never be free

To be what others can easily be.

But I have a secret that life doesn’t know.

My brokenness has helped me grow.

Strong enough to overcome

The tormenting parts of life for some.

Some like me who wake in pain.

Who fight each day to simply remain

Some form of life in this glamorous place.

Where precious treasure is a pretty face.

I’m stronger now, as time will tell.

Strength was forged in the flames of hell.

I’ll never be like all the rest,

But I can still be my broken best.

 

 

(p.s. I always miss you.)

Mindfulness


My legs spasm with pain.

I struggle to sleep.

I talk to my pain,

Like a mother to her child.

You are my body.

I hear your agony.

My heart fills with compassion.

My dear one, I am here for you.

You don’t have to scream.

I am here for you.

You are not my enemy.

I am here for you.

You need my attention.

I am here for you.

You are my pain.

I will heed your calls.

I will tend to you kindly.

You are a part of me,

As are my eyes, my lungs, my heart.

You are my precious pain

And I am here for you.

Pain


20140617-223024.jpgI dreamed of you today.
Your lingering touch.
Your passionate cries.
Your steadfast attention.
The icy fingers around my throat.
The strength of your grip.
The awareness of the futility of escape.
You consume me.
You terrify me.
You control me.
We are locked together in this daily existence.
We hate each other, yet can’t bear to be apart.
This dance of pain.
This union of suffering.
This battle within.

Bedtime story: I’ll think of something


I can’t write. I’d call it writer’s block, but I’m not writing anything, so I can’t exactly call myself a writer. Anyway, bedtime stories usually come relatively easy, so I thought I’d try one.

Once upon a time there was a girl named Kara. This girl was exceptionally gifted…gifted at lying.

When her friend accidentally broke her mothers favorite vase, Kara said, “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something to tell her”. When her mom got to the room, Kara explained how she and her friend had seen the vase moving, then it fell over and a mouse ran out.

When she forgot to take the trash out, she told her parents she had hurt her wrist and didn’t want to tell them cause they would worry.

As she grew older, “I’ll think of something” became stories of why she didn’t make it home on time, what happened to her homework, why she was wearing different clothes coming home than when she had gone to school, etc.

Of course, her parents, and teachers, even her friends were quite annoyed by her consistent lying. She was good at it though, and therefore it was hard to prove she was lying.

In fact, despite the lies, she fell in love and soon became a wife.

As any married couple knows, it’s not always the way the fairy tales would have you believe.

The first time he hit her could have been an accident. He said he was sorry right away, and he explained how he was just pretending like he was going to slap her, when she turned her head into it.

The next time was a little more clear, and, after all, she did kind of deserve it.

She didn’t understand why she was becoming too stupid to do the laundry right, or make the right food for dinner.

Now, huddled on the floor, she prayed the bleeding would stop, but knew it wouldn’t.

Look at this mess you’re making! Why can’t you just do things right so I don’t have to keep showing you?

I’m sorry. I don’t know.

Well, you better start thinking, cause it looks like we might have to go. I think there’s a new one on Robinson. You speak a word of this and I’ll kill you.

Can’t you understand, I don’t want to hurt you? I love you. You are just so damn difficult sometimes.

Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.

Pain-somnia


Pain is my passionate lover tonight, and it laughs at my Medication suitors, who try to lure me away with their promises of comfort and rest. I am captivated by Pain’s domineering presence yet I struggle against its powerful control.

Somehow, I manage to tear myself away from its tethers, to find some solace on the page. To Words I come, bruised and broken. Desperate for distraction. Anxiously awaiting the temporary freedom that comes with being swept away by their magic.

Of course, medical marijuana would be a lot easier, but it’s not legal here yet, and this blog is all about word play, so here I am.

Who’s up for a bedtime story?

Once upon a time there was a mirror. This glass was far from clear.

Children had placed, and replaced stickers on it so much that some of the stickers were no longer recognizable as anything other than dirty adhesive.

There was a lingering smudge from the time the woman drew a heart with “I love you” for her husband after that steamy shower, and where he had quickly replied “more”.

There were even smudges from the dogs nose when he discovered and introduced himself to his reflection.

Of course, the typical toothpaste splatters, occasional hair, and everyday dust and dirt marred its surface as well.

This is not part of the story, but I’m seriously thinking about ditching this and getting some ice-cream. Ice-cream and another pain pill…

What? You think I should finish my story? It’s a story about a mirror. i could spend some time thinking, writing, “reflecting” on the many insights to be discovered, but don’t you think we all spend enough time in mirrors? Get some windex, wipe it down and live your life.

Now, back to that ice-cream…