Tag Archives: depression

I Hope So

Standard

Driving home,
tired to the bone,
the Pawlonia and honey locust
give me hope,
glowing in the setting sun.
Whizzing by
do the other drivers see
the majesty of this moment,
this life?
I’m feeling alone.
All of the other old feelings come back.
I ask again why it has come to this,
why I am now struggling financially,
why my children aren’t with me daily,
why he gets to strut around town
with a new woman
(in her sexy dresses and high heels)
while I’m at home alone
worrying about money.
I’m tired.
Maybe this will all look different tomorrow.
I hope so.

NaPoWriMo 2018, Day 25: Warning

Standard

Today I experienced an emotional trigger—like the sting before tears fall—as the first words of the poem immediately leapt in my mind upon reading the prompt. I’m feeling raw today. Low and lonely, without a safe harbor in the world. God help me.

****************
Warning:
Thinks too much.
Don’t get too close.
May share opinion without being asked.
May care too much.
May fall in love with you immediately.
May get too attached.
May think there is a future with you.
May believe her own dream.
May waste away to nothing
when the dream falls apart.
Mentally unstable.
Run in the opposite direction
if you see her coming.

NaPoWriMo 2018, Day 18: Off

Standard

I sit down to write my daily poem with one hour left in this day, and I notice how tired I am.  Here is today’s NaPoWriMo prompt.  It sounds like a beautiful idea and process, but I just don’t have the energy in me right now.  So I’m going off prompt!

****************
My whole life was turned upside down last July
when my husband told me he wanted a divorce
and it hasn’t flipped upright since then.
I haven’t eaten well, slept well,
or felt truly like myself in a long time.
I have lost mutual friends to the story he told,
and really, would I want them as friends
if they can turn based on one person’s story?
But all the same I miss them
and don’t know what to do with these feelings
of grief, loss and betrayal.
I don’t know what to do with the images
of him making love to another woman,
images in my mind, more real
than anything I could see in a movie theater.
I don’t know what to do with the hopes I had,
hopes to reconcile, hopes to rebuild,
to recommit, to outlast all the trials
and come out standing, stronger, confident
of our love and our bond.
Yes, I haven’t eaten well, slept well,
and I miss closeness with my husband,
in spite of all that he has said and done.
I guess you could say I’m a little “off.”

 

The Life I Was Meant to Live

Standard

It arrives slowly,
so slowly I question
if what I’m feeling is real.
But then it begins to build
until the feeling is so present,
so there,
that I can no longer deny it.
It’s a mixture of hope, of lightness,
of real pleasure, joy, relief
that things are changing,
finally changing.
After this harrowing, hellish time,
I emerge from the cave
of the deepest, darkest sadness I have known.
I stand naked, blinking in the bright light,
an infant newly born
into the life I was meant to live…

This Is True

Standard

On the eve of my 41st birthday
and I’m feeling depressed.
My life has fallen apart,
husband with another woman…
they’re out tonight
at a Passover Seder,
at the home of a couple
who used to be my friends;
now they’ve accepted her as his,
and I am home with our children,
picking up the pieces of our wrecked life,
trying to maintain stability for them…
and I feel angry.
I feel hurt.
I feel betrayed, abandoned, discarded.
I want to be heard.
I want to be held.
I want to be seen.
I want a wise old grandma
to pull me into her lap,
to rock me, and hush me,
and tell me I am safe,
and all is well.
But there is no grandma here…
only me and my kids.
I search for meaning
as my fingers dance across keys,
sending words out
into a world of people
I most likely will never meet.
Who hears this?
Who cares?
Who knows this pain?
Who can tell me
that things will get better?
Who can convince me
that this is true?

Before It Began

Standard

The sadness engulfs me;
I am not enough,
and this is why he left me.
Who speaks these words
inside me?
I know that they aren’t the truth.
I was his committed wife.
I cooked, I did laundry,
I kept the house tidy,
I gave him two beautiful children,
and raised them to be healthy,
happy and aware.
I was his lover; his friend.
I told him my hopes, my dreams,
my fears.
I fought and I forgave.
I stood up to him
when I disagreed;
I laughed, and loved,
and planned my life around him.
And then one day
He told me it was over.
He tells me I was never a partner,
I was a taker, a “me first” kind of person.
Months later,
he took a new lover
under cover,
but I found out;
it was my gut and finally
technology that told me.
The betrayal cut deep
and I’ve lost sleep
over this man who was once mine
(and who still is on paper)…
but in truth he left this marriage
before it ever began.
Why should I grieve the loss
of what never was
and never will be again?

How Could He?

Standard

He has moved on.
Some nights he’s gone
all night.
Another woman’s bed,
and my head
explodes,
too many episodes
of grief and drama.
The trauma of such loss
of intimacy and trust
and I’m told to just
move on,
as if there were some switch
to flick
so I don’t think about
how one time he picked me
to be his lawfully wedded wife,
which I still am.
Grief.
Rage.
Resentment.
I found condoms in his bag
after he told me I was crazy,
after he blew me off,
after he said
he wouldn’t talk about this with me.
I told him he couldn’t gaslight me
any longer;
I’m stronger than that.
Crying, calling him lazy
for giving up,
a coward for doing it this way.
And the felt sense of injustice.
He shows up in the morning
sheepish for one second.
Then slithers around my children
pretending like he cares
after leaving me alone with them
night after night after night.
And I’m supposed
to go along with this?
How could he?