Tag Archives: boundaries

Entitled

Standard

I’m feeling entertained.
What was meant as an insult
has provided endless laughter.
This means progress.
I was told that the body part upon which I sit
is entitled.
I was told to get off this particularly entitled body part
and get a job.
I have two things to say:
1. I have a job. Actually two jobs. Actually three.
I have been mothering for 9 years
and teaching yoga for 14
and it is a full time job being me,
it’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it
and I’m the most qualified for it—
AND I AM DAMN GOOD AT WHAT I DO,
AND I WILL KEEP DOING IT, THANK YOU.
2. Yes, I am entitled,
and not just the body part on which I sit.
All of me is entitled.
All of me is entitled to:
love
respect
joy
beauty
care
kindness
compassion
understanding
abundance
and gratitude
(among other things, but the list is getting too long, so I’ll stop there. For now).
I am entitled to these things,
because this is what I give out.
Oh wait, there is a third thing I have to say:
3. YOU CAN’T HURT ME ANYMORE.
If you have any questions, comments or concerns,
just talk to the aforementioned entitled body part on which I sit.
I’m sure it will make itself very clear,
in one way or another.

You Can’t Scare Me

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Go ahead,
sell the house.
Go ahead,
change the Wifi password.
Go ahead,
tell me that you think
I’m mentally ill.
It’s fine.
You can’t scare me.
And maybe that’s why
you’re pushing so hard—
you know deep inside
that this is about your fear,
not mine.
When you wake up
from this nightmare
and you’re ready to relate to me
as an adult,
I’ll be ready.
Until then,
get your mommy,
get your blankie,
get your warm milk,
and go fuck yourself.

 

*******
Wrote this directly after having another unsatisfactory conversation with the man I married eight years ago, who informed me he wanted a divorce in July, who still lives in the house with us, and who is threatening to sell the house, saying, “There’s nothing you can do about it.”  I’m not in the best mood right now, but I’m not scared.

Unavailable

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A knock on my bedroom door.
I opened it a crack.
Are you available to talk, he asked?
It was late, I was tired,
and I was pretty sure
he wanted to convince me
to take his point of view on something
with which I wholeheartedly disagreed.
Are you available to talk?
No, I said, and shut the door.
No explanation.
I just shut the door.
And it was so satisfying!
After eight years of attempts
at real connection,
of trying to get him to articulate
his true feelings
and receiving criticism
for everything I am
and everything I do,
he has forfeited any right
to be in my presence
when I don’t want him there.
Tonight I was unavailable,
and damn it felt good.