Change is Coming Soon, Now is My Time

1 change

I’m scared. There are things in this universe that have bigger plans for me. And I don’t know what that means for my future. Everyone’s future is unsure, and I know I am arrogant for writing on this topic, but the pull of the gravity is too strong to deny. There is a static in the air, an electricity field too strong to deny its existence.

I don’t know if it will be good or if it will be bad. That is what has me frightened. Life has been going too smooth for a shakeup not to happen. As many gather in Black Rock City, I am having my own burning man this weekend. I am curious, I want to know. I wish my clairvoyance was stronger so I can hear what the fates are whispering on the winds. I can almost hear their voices, but I can’t make out more than a tone here and there.

My body is not ready for this challenge. I’ve been fasting, from dawn til dusk, all month long. My blood work states my blood cells are in overdrive, both white and red. My body is sleep deprived, over thought, under stimulated, and plain wore out. I don’t know why, but I should have been more observant and known that the winds of change always strike when I am at my weakest.

I can’t force it. I can’t make it come any quicker than it’s trajectory plans for it. I have no way of knowing when and where it will strike. I don’t know what will strike. But something is coming. Something big. Something profound and remarkable. And it is going to channel through me. Am I ready? No. Am I willing? Yes. We shall see what the paradigm shift shall have in store for me and my future.

I Thought I Could Deal, I Guess I Can’t

It’s been a while. I’ve not been on top of my game. I have been living in my head, letting insecurities eat at me and beating myself up for not standing my ground. I feel an omniscient feeling that something I did led to his behavior. Had I been more sexually available, would it have happened? Had I been more mentally present, expected less, put less pressure on him, would it have happened? All these feelings of doubt and wonder penetrate my thoughts and mess with my concentration.

My house is in shambles. I haven’t plucked my eyebrows in weeks. I have been so depressed and self absorbed that I have had trouble looking at the bigger picture. Today, as I write this, I will be looking at the bigger picture. I am not the first woman to have her trust broken, nor am I the only woman to have her heart broken. I am not the first to try to overlook the trust issues, with limited success and failure rates. I am not the first woman to feel like this man is driving me to the edge of insanity. But if I am not alone, why do I feel so all alone?

I have limited options. Being a “kept woman” has prevented me from working, paying bills, holding my own household down, being a responsible adult. Thank god I have no children to drag into this equation. I can always leave and go live in a shelter, until I get on my feet. Living with a friend or family member just won’t hack it in this situation. I don’t want them to know, and if it happens after a decade and a half there will be questions. Questions I don’t want to answer. Questions I don’t have answers to answer.

I can stay and live out my life in a constant state of fear like an abused dog. No, he doesn’t hit me, but sometimes with his words I would rather him hit me, it would be easier to accept and heal those wounds than the wounds of my soul. I feel like I am walking on eggshells, under constant scruitiny that something I have said or did might trigger him again. I fear him and the control he has over me. It’s not fun living in a perpetual state of fear.

I cannot get housing assistance, as I do not have children. I have an addiction problem, I like to hit the bottle and the pipe, and the shelters don’t tolerate that at all. But he not only tolerates it, he encourages it. I will be expected to drink with him when he gets home from work. I will be expected to share that bowl before bed. And I will do it willingly, as it helps numb the pain from traumas past and present.

I don’t know what to do with myself. Three decades into my life and I am trapped. I am dependent on a man who mentally and emotionally abuses me. I can’t get help because I don’t have children. I can’t even fathom where to start on my own. I keep trying to convince myself that it is okay, that I love him. I do love him. And today, I am not okay. But I will do nothing about it because I don’t know what to do about it. Sigh. Maybe tomorrow will be a better day.

Trust, A Poem

emily_head

I wonder how you can live with yourself sometimes,
Breaking my trust time and time again.
Used to think you were the fool in this whole shindig.
I realize now that I have been the fool the whole time.

Lie after lie, misleading me, twisting my words
All of these constitute forms of abuse.
You have abused me.
How do you feel about that one?

Take a step back and look at the whole picture.
You complain again that you got the short end of the stick.
I laugh, because I have stepped back and looked.
I am the fool, a fool who happens to love you.

Don’t think for a moment I wouldn’t hesitate
To leave this situation. You wonder why I stay.
I wonder why I stay sometimes too.

It hasn’t been all misery; the joys far outnumber the lies.
Unless those were lies too, but I doubt it.
You make me laugh, you make me smile,
Daily you surprise me with what comes out of your mouth.

I guess you can say I am just tired of being misled.
You promised you wouldn’t anymore, that things would change.
Nothing has really changed. Except my comfort level.
I feel like I am constantly walking on glass when you’re in a mood.

Why is love so fickle and sly? You have my heart.
What you do with it is up to you.
I do wish you’d love me the way I want to be loved.
I love you the way I want to be loved- unconditionally.

My trust is broken, and nothing we can do can fix it.
I’ve told you what I need from you;
You told me what you need from me.
Why can’t our needs be met, spelled out so rigidly?

I choose to believe in the best. I believe in you,
I just have troubles believing your actions match your words.
Things will never be the same, and I don’t want counseling.
I want what we had. I want what we could have.

I don’t want what we have now. Communicate! It’s all I ask.
I love you enough to want you to be happy,
With me or your dream girl or whomever you wish.
But I hope you pick me.

A Roadtrip, and My Reservations

So I am leaving town for a week, and this is taking a huge leap of faith in my relationship with the boyfriend. If you haven’t been following, or this is your first visit, he participated in a major disappointment that almost ended our relationship. I don’t feel like revisiting the past and hashing out the details, but let’s just leave it at I am wary of my solo trip across the country and leaving him alone. It is taking everything within me not to let negative thoughts or feelings consume me.

I’m trying to put good faith forward, and believe in him when he says nothing like that will ever happen again. With the wounds still fresh, I pack my bags and am going to drive twelve hundred miles by myself, on a mission for myself. I need to spend some time with my best friend, who recently relocated to Seattle. I’m excited, as I do love the open road with all my heart. I have a gypsy soul and I long for the trip, and I will do well on my trip like I always have in the past. Only this time there is doubt that lingers in the back of my mind.

He was looking for outside validation, and I fear he will continue to look for outside validation in my absence. My worries are well founded, and I do plan on checking craigslist every night that I am gone, looking for his posts that I truly hope will not be there. I hate not trusting my heart to this man I once trusted with every ounce of my being. But in retrospect, I had put him on a pedestal and worshipped him like he could do no wrong. Since then, I realize he is human with all his fallacies, and to damn him for that would be hyper-hypocritical.

But my trip is overshadowing any doubts I may carry with me about this situation. I’m excited beyond words- I have never been to Seattle, and I get to spend almost a whole week with my best friend. She has been my best friend for twelve years; we met in college and have been besties since. I don’t like many people or have respect for even less, but I have massive amounts of respect and platonic love for this woman. I have watched her grow and blossom into a beautiful creature, both inside and out. She has had issues with me, and we have had a fair spat or two, but I love her even more for being able to be honest with me. Sometimes I feel as if she is the only one willing to be honest with me.

We’re doing the Fourth of July thing in a small mountain town called Snoqualmie, and then we’re heading to the beach for some fun on the sand. Or rocks. I don’t even know what the coastline of Washington looks like. But I am going to find out. I just hope my paranoia about what may or may not be going on at home doesn’t cast a shadow over my adventures.

I decided I am choosing to have faith in the boyfriend. I choose to believe him, and I choose to put whatever might happen in the hands of a higher power. He knows the consequences of what would happen, and he knows I would rather him be honest with me instead of going behind my back. I love this man; I have loved this man for half my life. I just want him to be happy, with me or with someone else. All I ask for is honesty and respect. I think he gets it.

Tonight, a young cousin of mine is coming to stay the night. I don’t know her very well, but she pleaded with me to be a part of her life, and she invited herself to stay the night. It should be interesting. She fancies herself a witch, and is really into the paranormal. Which I am also into the paranormal, but I don’t fancy myself a witch. I am strictly agnostic. I believe in a higher power, but I don’t personify it or worship it. I respect it. We are going to share a glass of wine and have deep theological conversations. I’d lie if I said I wasn’t curious as to how this will turn out. I get to be her taxi, she lives 45 miles away. I pick her up from work at 8:30. This is bound to be interesting.

I woke up at five this morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed. For no reason whatsoever. So I believe a nap is in order before any logical late night conversations, and especially before wine. Alcohol makes me soooo sleepy, and I need to have my wits about me to keep up with her fresh mind. She doesn’t really know many people from her grandfather’s side of the family, and she chose me to get to know. I hope she’s a realist and can accept me for who I am.

Well, the laundry is done, and needs to be folded, so I best get on that chore. But I do want to thank you for reading.

 

A Housewife’s Work

Image

 

A housewife’s work is never done.
There’s always chores and never fun.
Take out the trash and go for a run.
Wait at home for the family to come.

There’s the cooking and the cleaning
And all the in-betweening.
The calculated preening.
A search for the meaning.

A child never came into my life.
All I get to be is a wife.
College and career were strife.
I’m wound tight and hard like a knife.

The days come in and go out.
I ponder what life is about
As I fold laundry and clean grout.
Years pass and I grow stout.

A housewife’s work is never done.
From the first moment the sun shone.
To the last as is comes undone.
All I want is a little fun.

 

Decades of Love (A Poem)

Image

Its been near two decades since we first met,
Since we first made love, since you made me sweat.
Now that the years are slipping through our hands,
I count the ways you love me as if I were counting sands.
At first it was intense and swift, nothing could stop us,
Now it’s evolving into something over which no one would fuss.
You take me for granted, that is the honest fact…
I take it as a compliment, for you serve it with tact.
The gentle comfort of your breathing in bed next to me.
The way you speed up a little as we get close to the sea.
A comforting embrace from your arms to mine,
A kiss on the cheek, a kiss on the lips that could stop time.
Comfortable silences that echo off our four walls,
The way you hmmm and haw when you’re trying to stall.
A perfect evening spent in with each other,
The way you are glad you didn’t make me a mother.
Your hands so rough from making a living.
That’s your way of loving and giving and giving.
As time eclipses itself in a circle around us,
I feel the pull of your gravity between us.
The love you have for me shines bright
Much like a lighthouse, lighting the night.
It waxes and wanes, builds and subsides,
All the while our love never taking sides.
One thing that I know is the truth.
I love you, darling, from here to Duluth.
And back again, for travels can tell
Without you in the driver’s seat, this ride would be hell.
So walk with me my love, tell me a story
About you and me and all of our glory.
We’ve weathered some storms, as fierce as the sea
But all that is left at the end of the day is you and me.

 

On Celebrating My Figure

I have always had a love-hate relationship with the amount of square inches my soul inhabits. Bombarded by media that says I can’t be pretty unless you can count my ribs coupled with fabulous amounts of body shaming as I was growing up led me to believe I was too tall, too wide, and too big for anyone to love. As a 30+ woman I call bullshit on all the lies and misconceptions that were fed to me as a teenager.

Being six foot tall is enough to draw all the attention in a room, but add my size 20 dresses to the mix and apparently I am a sight to behold. I have a good amount of muscle meat on me. I have some flab around the middle. But everyone shamed me for being who I am from the time I can remember until relatively recently. “You’d be really pretty if…” I heard that countless times from even the places you look to for encouragement. There was always that resounding IF leering at me behind every off handed compliment.

I’ve been roughly this same size since I was in sixth grade. More than once I was mistaken for school staff, not student. And it followed me into college- countless freshmen asked me which course I was teaching. Now, I don’t have abnormal wrinkling, and there are zero grey hairs on this head. It is purely my stature that gets held in misconceptions.

People stare. The boyfriend and I are both really tall, and we can quiet crowds when we walk in together. I got fed up with people staring for no reason, so at one time I cut my hair very short and got a sleeve tattoo. While I still love my sleeve, it justifies people staring. I write it off as them admiring the impeccable artwork that graces my left arm. I put a ring in my nose and ten in my ears. It keeps the focus on my head, not my spare tire. And I dress to flatter my body type. I mean, it’s not every day one who isn’t an apple shape or a pear shape can find clothing to fit properly. So, as a corn dog with two sticks body shape I sew a lot of my own clothing, as well as tailor what I buy off the rack so it fits properly.

This allows me copious amounts of opportunity to play “fashion designer” with my style. I make and wear a lot of skirts. I’m an expert at tailoring jeans to fit. And I must say, I have created some pretty stunning pieces that garner envy from other women. Sometimes I will see a design I made years ago become popular with mainstream USA, and I just smile because someone, somewhere is gratifying my taste in fashion.

So between my awkward teenhood and today, I basically have given people a reason to stare and I am not so awkward when the room hushes. I have learned to embrace my body, and embrace the attention it receives. It feels good to be looked at, wondered about, and I am sure remembered. I used to long to be exotic and alluring, and it only recently dawned on me that I am exotic and alluring. This small town country girl pulled off exotic and alluring.

I used to be apologetic for my size, now I own it and I am proud to honor my curves. I am a goddess, tall and stately, to be admired and worshipped. Okay, I’ll admit that sounds incredibly vain, but it is the truth. I’m done being awkward, I am done being apologetic, I am done with society’s standard issue of beauty. To these standards I say a resounding FUCK YOU. Every body is a good body, we are all stunning pieces of unique artwork, poetry in motion, beauty oozing out of every cell of our beings. I just hope this message reaches the right audience, that it falls upon the ears of the battered and weary, that YOU are beautiful just the way you are. Size 0 or size 30, three feet tall or eight feet tall, we are all special and we all deserve to revel in ourselves, celebrate our existence. There’s a party in your skin and you are invited!

So join in the celebration of our bodies, let your joy ring from one end of town to the other. We, as human beings, are the only ones who can accept what we see in the mirror. You can demean yourselves for your flaws, or you can celebrate them for making you YOU. Every. Single. One. Of. You.

 

Summertime (A Poem)

The sunlight swirls around me, entangled in my hair.
The wind caresses me gently, without a single care.
The grass and leaves emit their smell, earthy and green.
I can taste the summertime, it feels good to be seen.

Dancing in the downtown park, on a summer day,
Sometimes I go over there, sometimes I come this way.
I flit and flutter all around, like a monarch butterfly,
Watching the occasional cloud float on by in the sky.

Something about the heat really moves my soul.
The fountain going, the children playing, all hyperbole.
The sounds of summertime awaken my senses.
On a day like today, anyone would lose their defenses.

As the sun begins to set, and the people meander home,
I step into the city streets, so my restless feet may roam.
The heat rises from the asphalt, I can hear a baby cry.
Music wafting from a backyard, I let out a sigh

And I make my way towards my home, my heart light
For a summer day turns to summer eve turns to summer night.
Without the bitter cold of winter, or the chill of spring
Would I still love summertime with as much enthusing?

Evolution II (Strange)

Image

Strange, how people evolve into something greater than themselves.
Strange, how some people resist it while others embrace it.
Odd, how wholesome even the most bitter of souls can become.
Odd, how some laugh hardy fool can grow bitter before growing wholesome.
Again.

Bizarre, this metamorphosis we continually engage in.
Like the snake eating its own tail, the rhythm beats as one.
Bizarre, the world in which we believe in, for what is tangible
May not have always been within our reach, and what
May evolve to be within our reach in the future.

Open your minds and set your soul free, for freedom is all we have
To hold onto, the only truth we need, the only law to abide by.
Embrace the change, as the seasons pass and turn into years
And the years into decades, and decades into centuries,
And the centuries into millenniums beyond the grasp of reality.

What is man, but a strange creature in a symbiotic world where
The only true freedom is the freedom you take, not what you are granted.
Man has fallacies, man is only human, and man is not a humble creature.
But the possibilities are endless if they only look within, if they only see
The depth of the greatness at hand, if only one lifts the veil.