Saturday, April 25, 2015

"the inner tapes of my parents"


I'm old school.
I want them to be there early
I want them to go to bed on time
I enforce boundaries
I make them clean up
I tell them not to spend time with people who don't make them feel good.
I tell them of their worth
I tell them I love them
I tell them to leave a situation that is uncomfortable
I tell them to love each other
I cuddle
I have dance parties
I save their art work
I have no tolerance for bad manners
I make them do it themselves
I am the bad cop
I tell them to sit up
I make them ask to be excused from the table
I limit sugar
I tell them I'm proud of them
I take pictures
I love when they climb in my bed in the middle of the night
I make them bathe
I get loud
I spank
I have regret
I am a different parent than I thought I'd be
I am exhausted
I go to therapy
I am trying

Thursday, April 23, 2015

10 mins to write a poem.

Yesterday I wrote of our how close I felt to you.
How you never let me down.
I felt vulnerable and seen.
Today, you are so damn cold.
I woke up and you made sure I knew...
You were warm to me, then you freeze me out.
I don't understand.
Do you want to prove that you're unpredictable?
That no one can really count on you?
Well, I knew that. Everyone knows that.
I moved away from you.
I couldn't stand being scared night after night...
wondering what you would do.
I knew that at any time, you could rip everything away...
You could beat up my car...break down the walls in my house...
I lived in fear every time I could see you getting that dark look.
So, I moved away. I went where your angry hand couldn't reach me.
Now, you're just cold...and you show'd me again just how cold you can be...
You can cover the things I love...making them cold and icy...
But I'll know that this is nothing compared to what you can do.
Spring in upstate ny (instead of western kansas)

I am procrastinating...and I can't anymore.

I over book my interests
I want everything in my mind to be worked on...right now.
I am tired...exhausted at night...wanting to just to lay down and veg.
nothing gets done.
How do people do it?
I'm trying to get back in to shape.
Every part of my body hurts. That's good.
I'm trying to organize my cluttered house.
I'm trying to help others who need my help...whether they do or not.
I'm putting off the writing I should be doing out of fear.
I'm desperately trying not to fuck up my daughters
I am trying to support my husband.
I am not doing a very good job with myself.
Everything is outside my body. I can't get inside.
I am afraid.
I have a vision...I need it to measure up.
What if it doesn't??
I will lose the idea I've had about myself my entire life.
Then...what will I do then?
I'm not sure I could live with that.
It scares me...the idea of being average.
Of not making an impact.
Of not making a difference.
Of disappearing.

But I'm trying. That's all I can do.
I'm on the edge of doing...I'm out of the chair...I'm looking over the edge.
Fuck...that's a long way down...that's going to take a while
It takes a while of doing something before you realize you either should or shouldn't be doing it anymore.

It's all I have. It's all that has made me feel as if I'm special.
My's's meant for something.
My's ability to feel so much more than I feel it was intended to.
I am wrecked daily by someone else's story.
My heart breaks...
I can only hope that it breaks open enough to spill out words on a page.
Words that will affect and change and help other hearts grow.
The world is so ignorant.
It's evil and cruel.
I have to create something that my daughters can cling to.
"This is what she wrote...what she completed...and it says so much. This was who she was."
And they'll always have it...and will always feel them with them.
That's why I need to do it.