The struggle now
is between terror and peace.
Some days I wake up and feel fine.
Some days I wake up in terror.
There’s no rhyme or reason.
I just want to find home.
I want to create stability.
I’ve begun sending feelers out
in different directions;
I want to open multiple income streams.
I know I have talents and abilities,
but they’ve been buried deep within
for so long, it’s a process to uncover them.
It takes time to monetize one’s talents…
But I don’t have much time.
My eviction date is set for July 15.
I need to find a home.
How do I find a home
when I don’t have any money?
The people I thought were my friends
have all disappeared.
I guess that divorce, depression and eviction
are too inconvenient for normal, stable people.
What has happened in my life
that in my time of greatest need,
I look around, and no one is there?*
*Just wanted to acknowledge that there are people here who have been generous in expressing their concern…so I didn’t want to come across as ungrateful for that.
When you’re 42 years old
with two young children,
celibate for the last two years,
yearning for human contact
but trusting no one…
When there’s just $35 in your checking account…
and your AC has been broken for two weeks
and there’s a wiring problem in your house
necessitating running extension cords
from your refrigerator and freezer
to outlets in another room…
When you’re feeling
tired, angry, and lonely,
but you’ve made a commitment to sobriety
to try to claw your way out
of this pit you’ve fallen into…
When the only direction you can go is up,
but you’re so damn depressed that breathing feels hard—
HOW DO YOU FIND THE STRENGTH TO CLIMB?
Friends, that last question is not rhetorical. I quite literally want to know how YOU, you who have made it through tough circumstances and who have come out stronger, how YOU did it. I need some hope. Please share your experience, strength and hope with me.
Back in anxiety and depression,
like they are waiting there
always in the wings
for a moment
that I might just gain some footing
at which point
they stick out their legs
just as I walk by
DOWN I go
tripping, falling, stumbling,
They tell me to remember my place.
They won’t let me ever forget.
How do you escape a prison with no walls?
How do you gain freedom
from the inner persecutor?
I would tear them out if I could,
but I can’t find where they live.
How do I find resolve to keep going
when it feels like agony just to breathe?
Alone, in the dark.
What’s the point of going on?
Swallowed up by grief.
Was there ever any up?
Was there ever any connection?
was there every any loyalty?
Was there ever any life?
Caught in a story.
I tried for a year to believe.
A year came and went
and I’m still struggling.
How do I keep believing
in a chance for better days?
I always want to find resolve
with my words.
I always want to end these poems
on some kind of inspiring note,
some kind of opening into greater things.
Tonight, I don’t have it in me.
Tonight, the sadness wins.
I need to be patient with this process.
I was in the victim story
for a lot longer than the story
of my empowerment.
I believed he shouldn’t have left me
for a lot longer than I realized he should.
My pain is older than the loss of this marriage,
my abandonment, my grief, my heartache
much older than that moment
one year and one month ago
when he dropped the bomb
on the life I thought I knew.
And he is gone.
He has been gone for a while,
and he won’t be coming back.
And so now it is my task
to turn toward myself
and sit with the aching little girl
who clamors for my attention.
She cries out in anger and despair
because I haven’t been there for her,
so taken was I
with the telling of my sad, sad story.
I need to be patient with this process.
Taking ownership of one’s pain
is something that many people
will never realize they can do
let alone go ahead and do
once they realize they can.
I am making this choice.
I feel alone in it.
But that’s just because
no one I know personally
has made such a choice before.
there are beloveds out there,
kindreds, who just like me
want to evolve until the day they die,
sweethearts who want to own their pain
so that they have the space,
and the presence
to own their joy.