There are two days in the year that nothing can be done. One is yesterday and the other is called tomorrow. Today is the right day to love, believe, do and mostly live. -The Dalai Lama
In other words, don’t sacrifice today by regretting the past and stressing over the future. Harder to do when one is conditioned to depression (past-focused) and anxiety (future-focused). Love yourself, love others, love today!
I can’t worry too much now – I ordered groceries late last night and forgot they were delivered between 6 and 8 am. I also managed to cancel a few Amazon orders I’d made at the time for some skorts in size small (distress tolerance) before they shipped. My therapist at the psych ward would get how important that is, especially since I have so many skorts in a size medium im working my way back to. Amazon skorts from have gotten me through this Agoraphobic, crazy, and anorexic phase of losing myself because 1) they brought me joy, 2) I’m ready to rediscover forgotten items in my wardrobe, and 3) on my worst days, clothes were my form of art. Clothes are a form of choice and self-expression, so CLOTHES ARE ART!
P.S. This is my first hit at a REAL POEM post-psych ward. I know it’s rough, but it was a dream and I got it out. So YAY ME!!
PPS. (I’m an eternal PS’er) This photo is courtesy of Niranjan Photographs in India, where they make the fanciest art out of clothes!
I’m over my need to know anything. You are free to love, free to hide, and free to be. Freed from my timing for rescue and miracles, Free of my need for self-crucifixion, I myself am finally free of moral injuries. So I’m the One who’s Truly Free And greatly blessed am I indeed
Urges are where I write my poems. Once the Urge is conceived and birthed verbally, The wave of Distress passes and I’m free again. Poetry is my favorite form of Urge Surfing. So I like to make my art at The Edge.
Then again, I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie! Call me out of practice at having fun!
Part 1. It started with an Emerald Green Empress in Disguise
She was The Empress of the Day and she had green eyes. Plain old greenish-gray, but not hazel brown or any shade of blue. The most remarkable thing about those Pits of Maelstrom were the bright Emerald green they turned when welling with Emotion (which was often, so with a little Imagination, they were fiery and spectacular always). The Fluorescing green could be seen by Blind and Sighted equally; everyone but the Empress herself.
Beauty-blind (and sometimes transcendence-blind), she saw only mouse gray, pond scum, vomit green, emoji vomit green – for she was modern, too – cannabis leaf green, browning leaf green, mold green, and the artificial of squalor green in her own eyes.
She was so upset by the Tides of her Eyes, she forgot she held two priceless jewels affixed perfectly on her face, her reflection, and in her presentation.
Next Chapter: The God of Night sees the Kryptonite-like Rocks on TV on an Antiques Road Show episode and immediately recognizes them for the Uncut, Undiscovered, Rare Emeralds that they are. Stay tune for the juicy details as we wander far from our Sweet Spot.
MAGNUM OPUS: The Downward Spiral of The Last Five Ends in Joy
When I get out of balance (physical pain + emotional blows with no relief), I start getting scared. My perspective gets distorted by my own pain, And I can’t tell my friends from my enemies. The problem is, 99% of the time, I am my Worst Enemy. So in addition to being in “pain all over,” My thoughts have no place to land. This creates a toxic imbalance in my body, resulting in Me in an Extended Version of the Emotional and Physical Fetal Position, As if warding off cosmic blows. It’s not the LEAST BIT comforting, though.
I don’t even know how long these periods last some times. It finally erupts into a Dark Place, Both emotionally and physically. I’ve never written about this before, but I have been diagnosed with a Neurovascular Disorder called Erythromelalgia. It’s sometimes called “Man on Fire Disease” or “The Suicide Disease.” And it’s earned its Title! Sadly, it’s so exceptionally rare, you can’t find a neurologist whose even heard of it, So there’s very little information out there. Which compounds my anxiety. That’s the sad case with rare diseases. With no Big Pharma backing, research dollars can’t be found. It’s a disorder of the autonomous nervous system. I “lost” the ability to release heat from my system about 5 years ago. So, if I combine ambient heat with exertion (it’s extremely hot where I live), I get heat stroke without realizing it. Until I’ve got heat stroke. Which keeps me indoors, Avoiding life because of my fear of getting violently ill Should I carry in too-many too-heavy bags of groceries from my car to my apartment. It’s cooler in there, but it can be dark in there, and alone and scary in there. Alone to feel shame at not being live like a “normal person,” And not being able to regulate heat, can’t vent the shame Without the shame surfacing as blushing fire through the skin On too many parts of my body. It’s very humiliating for me to write about, But since there’s no cure or, in my case, effective treatment for Erythromelalgia, And because I got off all anti-depressants, and pain meds and anti-anxiety only in emergency And not for emotional coping, You can see how my Poems and this blog have been my constant companions over the last year. This was my last secret to write about, Because it’s One Thing which has bested me And nearly ruined me. What with the limitations it imposes, I felt it made me “unworthy as a companion.” So that took away my hopes for the happiness I hoped to one day find in the company of a partner. Which used the be the “safe place where my thoughts would land” as a coping mechanism. They have no idea how or why I acquired it (again, no research), So they default to the overdose of highly neurotoxic chemo I had when I was 39 years old, Fighting breast cancer. But since I was given no “Why,” I first switched to “Why Not” in an effort to “embrace the pain.” That might work for some of you Mental Athletes, but this girl already HAD a frail state to begin! Like: I was mentally and emotionally fried and too-feeling at the same time to handle “thought mastery!” So, I decided to “burn the shame out of me,” So I could at least feel safe inside my head. I had to find a harbor for my mind or I would give up. The only way I’ve been able to do this is through writing, So I mean it when I say this blog has saved me life. And I have discovered my own voice in the process! It has been a 3000% net joyful experience for me, Even if a painful and tearful one. I’m re-writing a story without a pre-determined ending (see my poem, A Foregone Conclusion – or something like that! It was birthed in MUCHAS LAGRIMAS! Many tears!). I actually believe in Miracles again. I had totally forgotten about Miracles, having no recent or long term memory of them. So anyway, final shame vented, But I don’t care how anybody prices me! My price is DOWN TO ME, and I DECIDED I’m PRICELESS. That’s good enough for me! So thank you, dear friends, for helping me discover my voice, discover my worth, and to re-grow my jaded belief in Miracles❣️
LOVER OF THE COLLECTIVE & PERSONAL “HE” & “SHE”: HUMANITY
Broken. OK With It. Sparkle Most Radiantly When Blended and/or Paired. Individually Stronger Than Originally Thought. Capable of Incredibly Courageous Acts. Passion. Compassion. Welcome Home! Welcome Back! I’ve Missed You So Much! Dream Architects. Lifelong Learners of Both and Each. Seek Wholeness in Self. Seek Greatest Potential in Relationship. Great Times. Mediocre Times. Tough Times. Life-Threatening Times. Devotion, Dedication, and Commitment in All Times. Don’t Take Pain Out On Others. If Pain Taken Out On Others, Sincerely Apologize for Any Pain Inflicted. Put Both Loves First. Sacrifice One for the Other to Become a Best Both & Each. Capable of True Love. SOLE Home of True Love. Is LOVE.
P.S. Convicted by my own damn poem! I NEVER post my poems on Facebook, but my poem compelled me. It’s why Poetry makes me a Better Lover of He & She❣️
He works behind the scenes, Designing worlds of Magic For his Precious Girl, He sees the Princess in the Whirl Winds her down to calm again. His shoulder comforts at days’ end Into nights where long He longs to love-express Be seen and loved for his Best Self. He’s loved all day, it might not show There’s just One Place he calls his Home.
Though her beauty is unparalleled, She doesn’t see herself. More heart-on-sleeve Than ice queen, More You-ist Than opportunist, Unlike others but Cares about others. She’s extraordinary, With a kind arm and A soft word. She’s superior, A cut above the others, She opens up to others. She has a mango smell And an intoxicating scent Which compel Towards her eyes, Deep liquid sighs. She shines too bright, She’s filled with Light, She spills it out, She gifts, it spouts, Transparency She gives for free. She’s beauty-blind, She’s very kind, She’s Femininity.
PSA: A MOVING SNAPSHOT OF THE STATE OF SINGLE INTIMACY IN 2022 ♨️♨️♨️
It’s not for the faint of heart, So before you even begin to CONTEMPLATE to start the post, I’ll pre-advise you QUIT while still time; That’s the most WARNING I’ll provide.
I mean: I know it’s a Sunday, But this Public Service Announcement Comes at a high cost to ME, So if you can’t withhold YOUR judgment Or your morals to make the space SO I can release the Advice alien-ating out of MY HEART onto MY PAGE, Please keep your eyes on Yours and Yours.
Not that any of respectful YOU Has EVER even tried, But in 2022, Virtual and Reality are mixed, And I’ve got a Religious Persecution Complex After a lifetime of abuse.
It all boils down to facts As simple as this and that I need be LISTENED TO!! So “Grow up, You Old Idiot! You’re as apparently as old as me, So why can’t you see That my telling YOU Is an effort to relieve ME!? I know ALL these pleas fall on deaf ears” Pleads ‘Feels-Too-Muted’ Me.
For the record, I didn’t even know there COULD be more than two viewers To a “Private Story!” Maybe in your fantastical stories, Laden with Rote Artificiality, But not in mine, and at least for now, NEVER in me!