NONE TO SPARE

NONE TO SPARE

I apologize; I’m sorry, too,
Sorry that “Yes, It’s true:
Can’t spend My Empathy on you.”
Regretfully won’t follow through,
Can’t part with what I do not do.
Stores dried up from long disuse
Are Emptied, and there’s None to Use.

________________________________
(Photo by @ryanzkwok)

CUT OUT FOR SCHOOL

NOT CUT OUT TO SCHOOL?

Mother’s Day is always hard for me, as are most holidays. Especially since the Joy of these occasions is multiplied by Loved Ones, and I have so Few left to Love.

Mother’s Day is a Double-Whammy because, even though we’ve all HAD Mothers, we’ve not all BEEN Mothers. And folks tend to forget that on Mother’s Day. Or at least they did when I went to church every Sunday. All those red roses handed out to Mothers? After YET another failed IVF or miscarriage? I recall Sundays as a Funhouse Mirror, distorting and exaggerating all I didn’t have.

Even Fathers Day is Still Bad, what with the ABUNDANCE of Horizontal and Vertical departures – at least on THIS runway. Yet somehow I’m always Left holding the bags.

I’m not saying “Bah Humbug” to Mother’s Day and ALL Holidays FOREVER. I suppose. What I am saying is that Holidays are just Regular Days now, remarkable only by the EXTRA Heaping of Grief they serve up.

Too frequently, I feel like I’m stuck on an underwater tree limb, the Rest of Humanity and Vitality having swum past Me DECADES ago. And taking no discernible note of my Dilemma.

Yet I persist in floundering my way into circles around that damned tree branch, idiotically thinking I can catch up.

I guess I wasn’t cut out To School.

_________________________________

(Photo by @chn.photography)

BALD, BARE, & BROKEN

2006

BALD, BARE, & BROKEN

For years I spoke about my breasts,
Such Talk I now hold close to chest.
I wrote for the whole WORLD to see
Of How They Served to Ruin Me;
Their invites to The Dark Disease
Opened all doors permanently
For Death to come and gloat at me.
I keep Such Talk more private now,
Perhaps it helps me Cope somehow?

RACING THOUGHTS & New Disclaimers ♨️

I’ve just lived a Month of Hell I don’t understand and for the first time recently, haven’t had the words to describe. But I want to try.

The last 3-6 weeks (I can’t remember) have been a Giant, Extended, Protracted Clusterfuck of Epic Proportions. On a Daily Basic. Comprised of the following Ingredients:

1. The Daily Trifecta of Physical Mental, and Emotional Anguish.
2. That Damn Oral Surgery: the additional pain, the inconvenience, the EXPENSE, CVS and other Mosquitoes, the recovery period, the healing period, the waiting for the next phase, the fact there IS a Next Phase,
3. Going from February to July, at least where I live, brought my favorite Wardrobe Season, Mild Winter, to a screeching halt with As-Yet-Unworn-But-Recently-Purchased clothing Making Eyes from my closet; who knows if they’ll Wink at me next year? Also, the abrupt and drastic change in temperature has been hell on ONE of my pains: an exceptionally rare and therefore un-researched disorder, Erythromelalgia, or “Man-on-Fire Disease.” Let’s leave it that for now; I don’t want to burn you.
4. THE COMPANY: Profound Loneliness, Static Aloneness, A Despairing Sense of Pointlessness, Pissed-Off Self Loathing, Absence of Invitations, Unwillingness to Extend Invitations, Inability to Accept or Extend Invitations, Unfounded but CONVINCED Ugliness, Too Much Time But Nothing To Do, Wouldn’t Do It Anyway, Profound Sorrow, Regret!, Ghosts from the Past, Abject Misery, Fear of My Future, Inability to Cope with the Present, Paralysis,, Growing Emptiness, Social Anxiety, Agoraphobia (home both caste and prison of my own making), and therefore:

ZERO KARAOKE.

I NEED a weekly fix of Karaoke to handle the Slings and Arrows of my Outraged Fortune.

The good news is I FINALLY sought self-care by Undergoing Transformation of both Upper AND Lower Nails on Wednesday. All 20 are now Bulleted and Shellacked in Deluxe, Upgraded Red Glitter and Reflecting in Top Coat. How’s THAT for “Spring Color?“

I’m still not feeling great. But at least the Racing Thoughts in My Head are
Lovingly Whispering:

Karaoke Tonight?

(Gracias for the photo, @thenixcreative)

♨️ Is My New Disclaimer for Very Foul Language and/or Sexually Explicit Talk

BILE RISING

Thoughts of Sweetness make me feel Sick to My Stomach, Pained in My Heart, and Intolerably Dark today.

This combination is only Enhanced by the flood of Bile and Hatred currently Rising,

Resulting in these pesky digestion sounds I hear.

Though of course I haven’t eaten all day! I’m always forgetting to eat. My Empty Stomach makes it even Sicker.

Thank Goodness!

Rest Assured: I won’t be Happy until You’re Half as Miserable as I Am.

————————————————

Welcome to My Head once I perfected a “Thought-Stopping” Exercise I learned last year. I finally realized how/why I got Cancer twice by aged 45. And perhaps all that pain medicine was numbing more than physical pain?

A FOREGONE CONCLUSION

Life has surely broken me.
I’ve flunked out at Everything.
Why consider equally
When Options just desert Me?
Forgive not pointed sharp for me;
Still grimed up, I cannot see
A single reason surfacing,
Hiding Places changing
Constantly
And arbitrarily
Disappoint inevitably:
Never, Ever, Frequently
Only end up baffle-ing
That the Ones who stuck by Me
Were No One and Nobody.
The Needed ones Abandoned me,
Never even wanted me.
Been let down by Everything
And 100% of Practically
All and Every
One and Single Thing,
Left for dead and wasting
To a husk of Me.

So What’s the point,
Sharpened pointedly,
When you will only
Start new things?
Old ones failing,
Interest lost and dropping,
Forcing hands repeatedly.
Home to pack a bag and leave,
All doors slammed resoundingly,
Locks all changed and shut to me.
Happy Endings Abruptly.

Don’t care what you do to me.
Lost my sensitivity,
Burning hurts so painfully,
Once Angry scars
Protect My Heart
From the Hope, Now lost to me;
It doesn’t hurt, just disappoints.
I have no mass, I’ve been disjoined,
Won’t shatter when you drop me.

All do eventually;
A mere eventuality,
Forgone Conclusively.



(Thanks for use of the photo, @sashafreemind )

THE LONESOME DOVE

Discovery swears I’m weary Now
And Then as well a Home to house
Feelings scream: Intensity!
Beg You to Reach Out for Me,
Drown Me in Dark Memory
Back when You returned My Love,
Now discarded, Lonesome Dove.

(Photo courtesy of Emiliano Orduña)

LOVE LETTER TO MY ONLINE FRIENDS


I don’t often find myself contemplating the virtues of Cyberspace, but today I’d like to extoll one of its underreported virtues: LOVE.

Yes, Love. There IS Love to be found here❣️

Yesterday, all day, I felt emotionally fragile. I’ve learned, since beginning this blog last September, that the Internet can grant succor and relief through the Catharsis of “Writing-For-Sharing.”

Sometimes the public attention makes me crafty and prancy with my words, even making up new ones like “prancy.” Other times, I feel like I’m vomiting poison. Or losing what’s left of my beauty.

There are Certain Memories I hold close and parting is such sweet sorrow! But I believe Vulnerability is the Magic Ingredient for Good Writing of Any Kind [sorry much caps, all needed].

Last night I sobbed for hours while writing about my non-baby-but-still-child, Ethan (one of 3 unborn siblings, but the only one officially named).

I’m still crying.

The public-ness and Exposure feel threatening, and I can’t withstand threat right now.

What I need to feel – and needed to feel – is Love. And I did. When I saw this morning that four of my most Devoted Devoteds and Favorite Favorites had read and “liked” my Memorial to Ethan, I felt a rush of love.

Why? The Likes meant these people endured the discomfort and read all the way down to the Like button. And by Liking, they agreed to my request to hold Ethan’s memory for a moment, so I could regain my breath.

Breath is life, friends. As the unwounded soldier helps the wounded, so your kindly presence returned air to my lungs.

By letting me SPREAD MY PAIN, you saved me. You earned the 💜, and I’ll be the one pinning it on you at the ceremony.

Grace, Bogdan, DirtySciFiBuddhah, and Andrea:

Thank you. You’re Everything.

His Name is Ethan

Death claims all the Victory
In the life given to me.
It owns the very parts of Me
That mingled with your chemistry
To build a brand new entity,
Just to have him ripped from me;

A tiny piece of Humanity
My body still aches longingly
To nurse and cradle next to me.

I didn’t know the rules for such a Tragedy;
No one did, apparently.
All Baby Bumps avoided me,
As if my full-term “inability
To carry” an unspeakable disease
Which could be passed contagiously.

Alone, I bear his Memory,
Always My Responsibility,
But I’ve become too tired
To honor him effectively.

Would you consider helping me
By holding Ethan Momentarily
In Your heart so that I can breathe?

MEAN & DARK


I feel like Death is chasing me
That’s why I feel an urgency
To document for all to read
My poems, my only legacy
I don’t write for Posterity
No child survived or got to breathe
All were crushed quite brutally
Deep within the dark and mean
Womb that used to live in me

Still Not Perfect:


In 40 years you gave me 3 (clipped) compliments and at least 300 (detailed) criticisms.

All to build MY character.

Had we spent more time together, surely you would have “improved” me to death.

So…

You’ll forgive me if I never felt loved.

[“Like” was so far out of reach, I never even conceived it]

Mostly I raced and chased after your constantly climbing targets until I collapsed – empty, emaciated, and starving.

Your meager love gave out early. It never provided nourishment anyway.

What a waste of your precious time because I’m still wretched ME! All efforts to carve me into YOU failed.

No doubt you’re sad about that. I’m sad too because:

I DON’T [think I] MISS YOU ANYMORE.

Go ahead and hate me.

<Same shit, different day>

Pain in My Eyes

Seeking but can’t find
I’ve lost my very mind
Feeling crazy rise
From darkness deep inside
Can’t fake my favorite lie
That never do I cry
Pain always in my eyes
My salted tears belie
The truth I can’t deny:
I often want to die
Cut these cloying ties
Whisper my goodbyes
Leave you all behind
Finally free to fly
Weightless, I’ll soar high
A new star in the sky
Forever burning bright

Why?

Why is that when I feel joyous,

I’m always reminded of how fleeting it is,

BUT

When I feel sadness,

I’m never reminded of how fleeting it is?

A Terrible Thing

You know that thing that drives you,
that gives you purpose,
that causes you to get back on the damned horse,
no matter how hard your life gets?

Well…
It’s a terrible thing to lose.

The Freedom of Divorce

My burning “like” [it was never love] for you has frozen over; misery my only companion in the awfulness that Life by Your Side has become.

How and why did we make this colossal mistake?
I don’t think I’ll ever know, and I’m not sure that I want to.

I ONLY know I’m ready to trade:
Your “love” and “partnership” for aloneness.
Certainty for uncertainty.
Shouting for silence.
Constant conflict for calm.
Walking on eggshells for mental relaxation.
Being a disappointment for being enough.
The prison this marriage has always been for the freedom a divorce might provide.

Yes, I will fail after you.
After “us.”
I will fall and fail until I die.

But…
Should I be blessed to have another 20 years,
I won’t be wasting them on you.

Journal, 6/20; The Greatest Estrangement

I transcribed this verbatim from a journal I just discovered. I wrote these two entries a little over a year before I started my blog here. I think this older writing proves I’ve gained much ground in the areas of freedom, peace, and joy. I’m still confused, but believe all will be revealed…

6/27/20

Dear God:

I have to admit I don’t understand you anymore. I used to think I did, but I totally don’t anymore. What I can’t wrap myself around is why – when I loved you so much – you’d allow me to get so broken, ruined, and hopeless.

Where WERE you? And why didn’t you step in when everything in my life fell apart [over and over and over again]?

I know I have disappointed you. That I’m stuck in a prison I partially made. But I didn’t make it entirely on my own. If anyone knows this, it’s you. But now that I’m here, you’re going to judge me when I die and say I gave up on You and didn’t use the gifts you gave me?

Let me point out: I think it was you that left me first. I’m telling you how I really feel because you can take it and I obviously can’t. I can’t “take” much of anything anymore. The only thing I feel is pain. Just pain and only pain. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

I am the walking dead. No joy, no laughter, no hope, no faith, no anything. Certainly no charismatic “fruits of the spirit.” I’m dry and hollow from the inside out.

So does this mean I’m not a “real” Christian? Because it doesn’t feel like I’m one of your Chosen. Chosen by the devil for torture and suffering, maybe. But surely not chosen for “life and life abundant!”

6/30/20

I can’t get through more than 3 sentences of my letter from Saturday without feeling cowed. I’m hanging my head in shame. You are holy and sacred and righteous and true and you don’t deserve my accusations.

I guess I just really need to FEEL your love – and it seems I only feel pain. I realize I was the one who turned away [because you say it was me], but it’s getting hard to turn back. And I miss you! So very much! But I need to know the TRUE YOU and not someone’s interpretation of you. I know you say your word is all we need, but it can be vexing to read. It makes me feel that if I don’t understand parts of it, I’m not really yours.

These reformed theologians have me doubting my salvation every moment of every day. Do you still love me? Did you ever? Will you not choose me if I’m not written in your book of life? Even though you’ve always known me, would you abandon me over a technicality?

It doesn’t matter much because I can’t imagine a hell much worse than my life as it now is. I’m sure if I’m to spend eternity tortured by demons, it will be much worse, though. I’m sure I’ll be screaming in agony for all of eternity future.

The thing is: I don’t understand why you’d let anyone do that to me.

I know I’m selfish and ugly and evil, but I thought you saw my beauty? Was I wrong all this time? Or did you un-see it one day?

I’ve served you, repressed myself, lived in fear, and felt like a disappointment to you my whole life, and in response? Are you really going to allow my already-shredded soul to be ripped to shreds all over again, every day for forever?

Cresting Clouds

CRESTING CLOUDS

You kept me on a heavy, tight leash my entire life.

I bear the deep scars around my neck to prove it.

Of course they healed over after I gave up,

no longer bucking against your imprisonment.

By confining me early, you confined me for life;

or at least long after you broke me.

You didn’t break me, though, did you?

I learned to venture out and live again.

I still bear the scars, but I finally escaped when you turned away.

Now I’m bouncing back high, higher, highest…

weightless to the point of cresting Heaven itself.

Any second now; I’m so close,

I can almost feel it…