stuck

not so sure if i’m “stuck” as much as not at a place where i want to move on.  Mitchel was one of the great memories.  tragic ending maybe, but still so much good.

why is there so much pain?

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the birthing process

headache
indeterminable, indomitable
headache from hell

not enough sleep
no surprise there
spent the time
  crying
  shouting
  throwing things
    and breaking some

it wasn’t right
  their bodies
  invading mine
what chance
does a nine year-old have
against four
sixteen year-olds
  rhetorical
    answer is none

i idolized him
  older brother
he abused me
  older brother

i can’t shake the memories
  flashbacks
  nightmares

        of this is depression birthed

Cherophobia

Cherophobia

There it is. After years of dealing with it – someone has finally given me a name for it.

Cherophobia – fear of happiness, is an attitude towards happiness in which individuals may deliberately avoid experiences that invoke positive emotions or happiness.

“deliberately avoid experiences that invoke positive emotions or happiness”

I knew it wasn’t crowds.  It’s not the business of getting in the car and going somewhere.

I DON’T DARE BE HAPPY

… it only gives opportunity to being let down …

in the morning shadows

in the morning shadows
fear extends its claws
and holds me tight
in agony

in the morning shadows
cold descends within
striking bone and sinew
with harsh accuracy

in the morning shadows
panic creeps and slides
taking me unaware
and unprotected

in the morning shadows
memories glide without effort
unbidden and unwanted
until I am awash in turmoil

in the morning shadows
i am defenseless
a child without armor
lost and alone

and i weep
in mourning shadows

forever in my heart

silver slippers
poise
and grace
all the charm in the world
could not keep
his wandering heart

for ages they danced
choreography by others
yet hearts touched
souls entwined
each morning
a single white rose
outside her dressing room
like magic
it would be there
fresh
and delicate

then the rain came
torrents of water
streets flooded
traffic stalled
inside they practiced
safe – warm
but his heart wasn’t there
she knew it
but said naught

the last morning
in her soul she knew
but she went
hoping to see him
she dressed
fingers shaking
breath ragged
and when she opened the door
the rose was there
and an envelope

she sat against the backdrop
clear skies portrayed
conflicting
with the storm within her
she read it only once
in two lines it read

“forever in my heart
farewell”

as paper fluttered to the floor
she held the rose
inhaled its aroma
and remembered
the love
that was no more
and could never be
again

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a voice from the gloom

this has not been a fun summer.  two weekends in 72-hour hold.  days of pain while doctors argue over whether or not i can continue taking my opioid meds.  temper getting shorter.  tired of dealing; tired of coping.

then last night staring at the ceiling so i wouldn’t fall asleep again because of repeating nightmares.

did you know if you get excessively tired, flashbacks have absolutely no problem invading your life?????