Deep
Sadness
Permeates
My
Heart

I
Once
Embraced
Bittersweetness
Until
Bitter
Beat
Out
Sweet

What
Is the
Trade
Value
Of
Lollipops
To
Hops?

My
Thirst
Speaks...

On Forgiveness, And Guilt

Calling it "abuse" tattoos the abuser, but
The abuser's actions bruise, and hurt
Like any blood-crusted needle.
In forgiveness, must one
Cease to speak the crime?

Love and Abuse
Are distinctive coexisting issues:
Neither excludes the other
In definition

I have learned
That everything is multifactorial
And
Multiple truths coexist.
I have learned
That I am both careful
And
Careless.
I believe
That perceptions are never simple,
Life is never simple
I believe
In repeating mistakes
Whenever it feels right

Repitition is a writer's downfall
Repitition is a person's downfall

Get rid of the repitition, everything will be cleaner
Get rid of the repitition, and get on with the story
Get rid of the repitition, conscious word choice
Get rid of the repitition, incest, abuse, rape
Get rid of the repitition, repitition loses interest
Get rid of the repitition, find aerodynamic strength

Forgiveness and Guilt
Are coexisting in distinction
Repetitive cycle turning cartwheels
Limbs flailing
Down a grassy hill...

Flipping, turning
Turning, flipping
Forgiveness, sadness, guilt
Forgiveness, sadness, guilt
Over and again
Until the beginning...

My Scars

Picking blackberries with Elisabeth left countless scratches on my right forearm, puffed up and blush red. Seeing them by morning sunlight, I heard the echoes of an old familiar voice, as though it came from outside me.

My left arm is a color-faded comparison to my right one. It bears the scars of teenage years spent as a "cutter." I took inexplicable pleasure in the sensation of razor searing flesh, the red gush of my life blood, my low-riding baseball hat shading away sleepless nights, safe long sleeves covering up my telltale secret.

Sexual abuse is the top-most found factor in cutting

When I was young, pain was my choice, because when I was even younger, it was what I knew. From toddlerhood, my feelings and perceptions were stuffed down and stomped on because nobody in my life knew the better. My primary abuser abused my secondary abuser who in turn abused me...all but unknowingly.

I don't know when my abuse started, and I don't know when it stopped. In some ways, I guess it hasn't stopped yet. To my knowledge, I spent twenty one years ignorant as to the cause of my deepest pain, and the subsequent five reliving it. Now, suddenly, my journey feels close to complete.

Abuse is common. When I was coming into awareness of mine, it never really helped to hear that. It only caused me to compare myself to other survivors, which led to worry and self-doubt. How is cousin C--- married when I can't even keep a boyfriend? Why has A--- having dinner with her brother when I am sick to think of ----? I've reconciled this through realizing that yes, many are abused...but ONLY I experienced MY abuse, and ONLY I experienced MY LIFE in the wake of that abuse. I AM alone in MY OWN story. Once I granted myself the space to react and work through my grief, then I began to take some comfort in the knowledge that I'm not alone.

Perhaps we're all abused as children. It is nearly impossible to avoid boundary violations before one's boundaries have been set, and children have much to learn before knowing where to set theirs. Violations can happen in retrospect...what you did was not okay is valid even when primary rules were not set. Adults are to help children keep reasonable boundaries until their Beings become defined. Yet few adults have learned proper techniques for their own selves. Thus the cycle repeats without end...

My scars won't ever fade to non-existance...not the ones that I carved into my body, and not the ones inflicted on my psyche by some very sick individuals in my past. But I refuse to be identified soley by them. I have lost the need to tell my story to every ear that turns my way. I am indeed a survivor, but I am no longer a victim.

Meanwhile, my wish is for other friends to do the same: to realize that they are not defined by their experience. To take ownsership of their presents and futures. It's my challenge to wait patiently while others find their own healing path, and to realize that theirs is not mine.

Truisms I have heard that resonate now:
"I chose not to let myself be defined by the wrongs that have come to me. I decided I didn't want it to be my life."
-md, librarian, incest survivor

"Everytime you act out or abuse drugs, your abuser is winning. Its the same part of you that he hurt, which wants to keep you down now."
-uncle bf

"First things first."
-AA

"One day at a time."
-AA

My Ailments

I have not been feeling my best. Mornings are getting slower and more difficult to bear; motivation for things like dance class and hiking is low. My bills are late and though I'm aware of this, I'm not dealing with getting caught up.

This morning it occurred to me that my grind is grinding on me. I work in a job that doesn't suit me, in the wrong industry entirely. So far I have been grateful for the paycheck, stability and camaraderie it has afforded me, but I don't want to get too comfortable here. I think it's time for a change. I need to examine my reluctance surrounding that conclusion. I have a notable amount, even though I truly want out of this job...Some combination of laziness and fear.

Furthermore, I'm waking up with itchy rashes on various bodyparts....Leg, arm, belly, neck, face. My guess is fleas, or perhaps poison oak, but my friend Will's theory is far more disturbing. He suggested it might be a reaction to my medicine.

I cannot react to this medicine.

Rashes, nausea, headaches, night-sweats, weight gain...I'll take them all before I'll take myself off Lexapro. These side effects are nothing compared to the weight of my depression when it's raw and untreated. I have been through four of the six anti-depressants on the market in a span of 4 years. The idea that I might run out of options terrifies me.

I used to hate the meds so much; I resented them. But in truth, I'm hopeless without them. Some will scoff to read this...to them I'm just another addict. But would they say the same of a diabetic for needing her insulin?

Drugged or not, I am truly in love with life. The difference is that with the drugs, I can act on that love. I can live. Without meds, I'm just another wrinkle in the blanket.

Everything Grows With Love

I see a great deal of danger in the idealization of Love.

"All you need is love"
"Love will find a way"
"Love conquers all"
...and my personal hypocracy, stitched in needlepoint and hanging on my bedroom wall, gift from a friend who I recently fell out with..."Everything grows with love."

All too often I see myself and my friends latching onto these catch-phrase ideals and using them to justify relationships that don't work. Love is superb...but I don't know...maybe...

"All you need is Therapy"?
"Good Judgement will find a workable way"?
"Honesty conquers all"?
"Everything worth growing, grows with balance and proper care"?

Years ago my friend's younger brother...who was truly a bafoon...said that romantic comedies which glorify the classic Hollywood love stories should be criminalized, for giving women expectations of men and relationships that are simply unrealistic.

I think the bafoon was onto something.

It can't be all about Love. At least, not romantic love. Not love for one other person. I know people who love each other and beat the shit out of each other as well. Is that truly all they need? Love? I'd have to say love is working against these folks.

Food for thought.

exercise: write about a place you love

Safe
And comfortable despite
Cobwebs and dust
Footsteps weigh heavily overhead
Like thunder
And voices rattle walls
But--
I am here
Behind the grandfather's old
Deep red leather recliner
Beneath my soft secret basement blanket
Face pressed against the cold
Cement floor--
Safe

If he knew I was down here
He'd yell at me, but
What doesn't he yell at me for

I fantasize--
Generations of belongings
That might have been mine
Choosing favorites from books
I never read, photos
Of familiar strangers,
Scuffed-up diamond jewels

Safe--
Once the upstairs storm
That is most summer evenings
After Cocktails
Draws to a ceaseless close
I will remain
Dust covered and bruise free
Savoring this
Damp dank smell
Like hot chocolate oatmeal cookies

The dark is broad daylight
And I imagine
A friend I never had,
Here with me in this place
No one's ever truly seen

Humbled

Decades and more
Spent molding into who
You are

How arrogant of me
To think I could undo the damage
In mere months

She

She hovers untouchable
Witch without her broom
Ranting
With corn syrup sweetness
Secret poision
Behind her words

She yells down
With fire
Calling it
Light
Scolding almost every
Common mortal
For their pedestal perch

Her hands are daggers,
Her gaze a spear

Inadvertantly
She blinds herself
Beneath the guise of
Intuition--
She is under
Her own spell

She tries to teach,
Yet lacks knowledge

She speaks of truth
Yet fails
To inquire of her self

She needs help, and I
Have lost my patience

She bleeds
And I don't even cry

Your Love Song

Push Me:
I will not fall
Or Break
I will not
Disappear
Into an
Endless
Crevice

I am finished playing safe.

Hurt me:
Just try it
You are a child,
And I will not take your blows
For more than the tiny fists
They truly are

You want me
To leave you
Fine--
I will comply
Knowing you will say that I
Abandoned you

I will wait
Ever silent and patient
Throughout
The fucking moonless night
Perchance that you might
Need me
Again
Someday

Your Silence, My Friend

Please recognize the truth....
That I have true love and compassion for you

Dissention is not disrespect
Recognition is not judgement

You cry out 'help'
Without knowing
What you mean to say

You believe that friendship means offering support right or wrong...
Yet I know that my truest friends are the ones who lay it out for me,
Even when I don't want to hear it....
My truest friends
Are some my pride won't let me speak to now...

I have changed so much in my lifetime
And the integrity of my truth
Remains in tact
I am me
Regardless of what clothes i wear,
Parties i attend, truths i
Accept
Per chance
In the present

Every time I think I've found my indentity,
I let it go.
Hard to do? You'd better believe it.

You fear change and claim "I can only be who I truly am"...

I argue that you haven't discovered who that is yet...

Let me help you...
Whatever that means.......

To My Friends--

Humble Me:
I Beg Of You

Right, Wrong or Righteous?

I've dug myself a hole
And pulled my Truths in over me,
Like worms and dirt

Here I sit
Stewing amidst my choices
Watching forms I once called
Friendships
Crumble
And dissipate

Honesty is isolating
Whether right or wrong

3 Disagreements in 3 Days

My Justice
Is
Your Burden

In Truth
We're
Each of Us
Alone

Seeking Balance

I have much to teach
And so much to learn

Leading,
Following,
Listening

My self is around here
Somewhere
Amidst this
Chaos,
Laughter,
Dancing

I was lonely
Such a short time ago
Now
Visitors never cease
And I'm obliged
To be a Friend
When I only want to sit
In stillness

And breathe

Everything
In Its Time
And
Ample Space

Diagnosis

Fear of Intimacy:
My Reality In Cliche

Anew

I
Seek
Rules
Yet
Find
None
Known

Self-
Imposed
Curfew
Is My
Chastity
Belt

You
Do Not
Know
The
Secret
Password

It
Has Not
Been
Set

The Simplicity of 3 AM

My consciousness is
A gift
That gets the better of me

In sleep it loses grip

Eyes flutter open
And I'm consumed
In pleasuable desire

(4ar)

Feng Shui Is Spot On

Our outsides
Are
Our insides

I have learned
Hangers in closets
And only carpet
Underneath the bed

Post-Friday

Hopes and Fears
One in the same

I feel I may have found
My home

White Daisies

One girl
Watches as the room reacts
With familiar warmth
To one boy

White daisies,
Ears of corn,
Tequila shots,
Evening stars

It's nice to meet you, how do you do

He chops mint leaves
And feels her presence
Although he does not speak

Meanwhile she wonders about
Gestures, Sincerity and Fear
As her roommate drizzles water
Into a vase

Separate Nights

I fear the thought of seeing you--
Or not--and knowing that
You're with your friends,
Playing your games,
Having your fun...

In past times of recovery,
someone said to me--
To your friends, life is a party.
But the party's over for you.

I have chosen change,
Or perhaps change
Has chosen me--
Either way,
It is mine alone

The party's not going anywhere.
You've got to choose to stay home.

Alas--
Just because I
No longer fit with you
Doesn't mean that I've quelled the feelings
Of wanting to be there.

(4bn)

In Spite Of My Bruised Legs

This morning
Golden sunlight
Kissed my gentle eyelids
And I awoke
Into a calmer peace,
A more beautiful place
And being
Then I've long anticipated

Walking
Out the door, I
Looked down at the same arms
I've always recognized
As my own
And watched as if anew

Briefly wondering--
How has this change come about?
Is it visible to others
Outside of me?
I feel truth, yet

Walk carefully,
Avoiding mirrors, windows,
Sliding glass doors
As if in them, I might find
My own self gone,
Stranger peering back at me

Change
Is
Terrifying

I
Would Not
Trade Mine
For Anything

...Would I?

Life, today

The most important thing to say
Is often the most difficult

The most important people to meet
Are often the most frightening

The best things that happen in life
Sometimes feel like the worst

Everything matters,
And nothing means anything at all.

'Shout out'

Despite daily loneliness,
I am truly blessed to have
Sincere loving friends in this life
Who crack my shit up

= )

I Miss The Trees

My feet are bleeding
Without the benefit of
Fresh river water and
Cold mud. My

Back aches
For the weight of
My overstuffed pack:
Belongings chosen

By other peoples
Elaborate ideas.
We were seven peaceful warriors,
Each with a vision

Of the perfect trip
And each of us right
In spite of blisters
And tears.

Seven beautiful spirits
Seeing ourselves
In waterfalls and dirt

Finding
Waterfalls and dirt
Within ourselves

The worth of your life

is not dependent

on any other person's view of you

In the Forest

Toxic vapors from
Self deprecation
Seep out my pores,
Suck up into the sunlight

Splintering in through
The Douglas Fir trees
And I run quickly
Away from you

This is me, healing
You light a cigarette

Surgeon General's Warning:
Long term exposure
To second-hand emotion
May result in depth of feeling

(for no one)