Regret

Regret tastes like foamy Guiness Stout; coffee on the hot plate too many hours; long expired milk.

Regret smells like plastic melting in a campfire; sweaty gym clothes forgotten in the trunk of a car; dogshit on your shoe.

Regret feels like accidentally brushing against stinging nettles; the stitch in your side from running too far, too hard; an invisible eyelash in your eye.

Regret looks like a forgotten sock, buried in dust bunnies, underneath the couch; a shopping cart full of toilet paper, coffee, wine, and lean cuisine; the star filled night sky - as endless as...regret.

Begin again

and so we begin again
dancing around the sharp pieces
of fallen stars
in bare feet -
because wearing shoes is too easy
and people like us?
we do things the hard way
over and over again
starting
stopping
and then we begin again

I dance -
the jagged self conscious movements
of someone who does not know what dancing is
step here, hands there, awkward, stiff, wrong...

you dance along -
your shadow over all the shattered stars so I don't see them -
trying to mimic me
because you can't stand to be looked at
singly
alone
in your own light
but your movements are out of rhythm
off beat
a step behind here, a step ahead there,
a left instead of a right, and what we create is ugliness.

and so we stop
and breathe heavily
tired
so tired
and stare at each other with eyes swollen by feelings we can't let go of.

and then we begin again
dancing around all the shattered pieces of this mess we've made
by ourselves
no one else to blame
and neither of us able to finish the hard work of cleaning up -

I pick up some bits and flotsam of brokenness
and you scoot some under the rug
I try to carry the largest bits, but I drop them with bloody hands,
you point
you laugh
you kick some of the brokenness toward me
shaking your head
and walking away
walking away
walking away

and I begin to dance again
in the middle of shattered bits of fallen stars
and find they sparkle a little still
without your shadow

Stuck

Stuck
like glue, in a fix, in the middle

Mired
deeply, thickly, immovably

Bogged down
dragged down, weighted, burdened

Held
pushed, shoved, blocked

Stayed
halted, delayed, diverted

Trapped
boxed in, jailed, removed

Caught
grabbed, tethered, tied

words that describe my life...

when will I be free'd?

What If

What if he said, "I'm sorry".
What if he really, really, meant it.
What if he asked me, "Please, could you ever forgive me?"
What if he understood when I said I couldn't.
What if he said he would spend the rest of forever trying to earn it anyway...
What if he said, "I was so wrong..."
What if he meant it, really really meant it.
What if he told me all the ways he was part of the breaking and destruction... and what if he owned all the things that broke MY heart?

What if he saw the light, the revelation, the truth, the whole entire messy scary thorny disgusting shameful horrible "thing" that was...and was real and authentic, finally?

Would any of it change who I have become?
Would I suddenly be different?
Would I be less angry?
Less scared?
Less worried and tense?
Less full of bitterness and sorrow and regret?
Would I lose the grief I've shouldered every day for more than four years?
Would I be less sure of myself? Less aware of my own heart? Less focused on my children, my soul, my future?
What would happen to my sweet sweet treasure that I was gifted with, the big brown eyes that melt me, the tiny face that spins my heart and soul...my littlest angel who isn't mine alone?

What if suddenly he took all the "I'm sorry"'s that I've given, all the "forgive me"'s that I've sobbed, all the "I was wrong to do this, and that, and say those things" that I've written and said and meant - and he finally believed me, and accepted it.

What if nothing... what if "just this" is "just this" for the rest of forever...

What if this is ok?
What if me, being strong, is better than what was?
What if me, being wiser, is better than what was?
What if my sweet treasure, my littlest angel, could only "be" because of all that came before?
What if all of us, being more mature and with wide open eyes, are stronger and safer and better off than before?
What if what we all have learned leads to something bigger, braver, deeper, truer, and more real than what used to be?

What if, yes, what if this is ok?

Self Loathing

*again, for Lee...this is the revelation/enlightenment I spoke of

I allow
my words
to be stifled

I allow
my feelings
to be shut off

I allow
my heart
to be silent

I allow
my words
to be lies

I lie

I do not live
whole
alive

I do not live in love
with love
for love
I do not live in peace
with peace
for peace

I live in fear and I hate my own weakness
my own humanity
even as I understand it
and justify it
and know there is change ahead
I hate me for THIS moment now
for allowing myself
to be victimized
prostituted
captive
out of fear
hate hate hate hate
hate hate
hate

Simmering

*for Lee because he asked...


resentment bubbles
low and slow
steaming
vapors wafting
on winds of change
I smile...

anger bites
bitter stings of
pinching needle teeth
waiting for the flinch
I shrug my shoulders...

bitterness coils
ugly
and sour
green pus
infects every breath
I hold in the sigh and pat your shoulder...

revulsion crawls
along vertebrae
whispering
whimpers of
shuddery loathing
I clench my teeth and say I'm tired...again...

I cry without tears
I scream without voice

Fraudulent
Phony
Fake
Inauthentic
Untrue
Unwhole
composed of bits of lies I tell you
to survive each day I live
I hate my lies
I hate myself for every word I never speak
and for the weakness of my own soul
for my own hypocrisy

don't look at me...

Weather Proof

I weathered my first week of going back to school.  I got through the first week of Medical Terminology and learning a bazillion prefixes and suffixes and root words.  I wrote an essay, and took a test also. I wore scrubs.  I packed my own lunch. I did my homework.

I weathered an ER trip with my baby which was prefaced by a fall and an obscene amount of blood and incorporated my downstairs neighbors (whom I do not know at all - they come and go in the middle of the night...very creepy) driving me and my screaming bleeding baby to the ER in MY car.

And then weathered a pediatrician visit and a pediatric dentist visit with a baby who did NOT want anyone touching his mouth...but for whom "mouth touching" was a necessity.  Poor boo...

I weathered "THE TALK" with my 17 year old son... oh we've had 'the talk' before but this was about "THE TALK"...as in, "it's going to happen so what do I need to know..."  At least he asked.... ya know?

I weathered some post divorce backlash that left me humiliated, shaking, and demoralized but only very briefly.  I regrouped and remembered who I am, what I'm doing, and what I'm actually worth (and how none of that is dependant on my ex's opinions, or anyone elses for that matter...)  I am reading a book on shame by author Brene Brown.

A friend is weathering a huge personal commitment involving 3 days, camping, and mountains to hike as a fundraiser for battered women.  I'm thinking of thinking about thinking of doing it with her maybe next year...

It's been stormy this week.  But the skies are clearing and I'm none the worse for the weather... I'm feeling calm, strong, and firmly rooted.

Now I'll have a cup of tea, some toast, and take a minute to enjoy the calm.