THE STRUGGLE OF FLYING SOLO

THE STRUGGLE OF FLYING SOLO

I have to be highly entertaining because I’m a tough crowd, and I’m both sole performer and sole audience member most of the time.

Not to mention, I’m really hard on myself.

And while most people would agree I’m highly agreeable, I’m ALSO notoriously difficult to please or impress.

So… I imagine you can imagine my inner struggles.

PS. If I didn’t have such low standards, I’d be too afraid to perform at all.

The Salt From Tears

THE SALT IN TEARS

Tears are important, too.

When I travel down a deep dark tunnel into a fathomless black hole of despair, I rely on my tears to remind me
I’m still a soul,
sitting in a body,
feeling sad right now.

Tears anchor and tether me; both are equally salvationary.

Interest Lost

INTEREST LOST

I know what you saw in ME.
I see it each day in the mirror, reflecting back at me:
The most Gorgeous Wonder
You will EVER see
For the rest of your wretched existence,
Or until you’ve been dropped by My Interest.
Whichever happens first.

BATTLE SCARS: GBD, Cold Entree

No dessert today; too much time sweating in a hot kitchen.

BATTLE SCARS

I’ve fought in many wars
And I’m deeply scarred;
I’m always decked and hurt
And don’t possess Night Vision
Sharp enough to see nighttime stars.

Yet I Won’t Go Down
Without a Fght;
I’ll be carted off dead
Or walk away with my life.

But should I die and You decide
To take MY Life into YOUR Hands,
Just to later hand It back to Me
(Generous YOU, but Ownership ME),

Should I be Grateful?
Or should I be Hateful?
YOU tell ME what I should be.

I am Both,
Wholly and Equally.
My battle’s were hard,
And so are my scars,
But it’s Magic versus Tragic
When Scars turn to Stars.

REGARDING COURAGE

Putting on a “Brave Face”

COURAGEOUS, CONCENTRIC CIRCLES

I’ve insulated myself so much the last six months, my life has become a microcosm of one.

I don’t beat myself up about it because I know every step outside of one’s comfort zone (the narrower, the better) requires Geometric Courage.

And I DELIVER!

Courage isn’t ONLY as Courage Does, but Courage ALWAYS Begets More Courage!

All this Courage literally starts with a baby step (perhaps 9 months after that last rousing session of “begetting”?).

It’s irrelevant; Karaoke Season starts soon.

“FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF”

“FEELING SORRY FOR YOURSELF”

Chances are, Most People who feel sorry for Themselves aren’t doing so out of pathological Self-absorption.

Rather, most are probably doing it because Nobody felt sorry for Them when They needed Someone to.

And/Or They didn’t extend the appropriate sorrow to Themselves when They needed Someone to.

HAVE A GIANT PITY PARTY if that’s what you Need to do.

Somebody probably needs to cry for a very reasonable, Age-Appropriate Reason.

CRY, BABY

CRY, BABY

Anyone who says
“You shouldn’t Cry for Yourself”
Is a big fat liar.

You should cry for all ages of Yourself if you need to.
I know it sounds hokey, but it’s actually very freeing once you get past the embarrassment of it.

The thing is: there’s nothing to be embarrassed about!

Welled-but-unshed tears are painful energy with no place to go.

If you don’t allow your body it’s natural response,

Your Body will cry for YOU!
Your soul will weep for you,
People will gnash their teeth at you,
And ultimately,
Your heart won’t beat for you.

I should know;
First-hand experience,
Multiple times,
All counts.

Not Much In Common: Am I Dead inside?

NOT MUCH IN COMMON

The people I have the least in common with are the ones who have no sense of their own mortality.

They always think there’s a better time and place for everything, never realizing they could be dead in an hour.

This realization, once realized, can’t NOT alter one’s entire perspective on life – as well as death.

Sometimes I over-correct with Karaoke, but that’s all it is: Overcorrecting.

Like buying a cheap goldfish
to repopulate the waters of Nagasaki.

Does that mean I’m a zombie?
If so, watch out… because I’ll eat you!
I’m highly opportunistic; as hardy and resourceful as a cockroach!

How do you think I’ve Survived this entire time?

The Dividends of Vulnerability

THE YIELD OF VULNERABILITY

I prefer to pen thoughts painfully,
Shine a Beam Internally,
In my search to Find in Me
Ghosts lurking Hauntingly.

Plagued by the Poisoned
Parts, Our Hearts
Were Forced To Feed and Eat;
Wounds opened non-surgically
Flood facts Indiscriminately,

Hoisting Pain On YOU From ME,
Always or Temporarily.
It’s worth the Cost:
“Expensively Vulnerable”

Pays Returns Quite Handsomely;
The End Result Astoundingly
Clears my Slate and Sets me Free
Of Forced Expectation

Regrets, Forgets, and Lapse of Judgment
The Only Fly in THIS Fly’s Ointment
Oft-pronounced; to all announced
Flies of Flawsability
I owned them all so selfishly.

My heart now holds Ready Stores
Of love I’ve searched my whole life for:
Why’d I’d never look inside before?

The Time I spent on Introspection
Burning back through Much Reflection
Invite Hopes I hope not Jaded,
Too Sun-Bleached or Over-Faded;
Pay Any Price for Inner Peace
With dividends long promised
Me;
My Investment? Self-care-ish
Time I Spent on Therapy.

The Biggest Yield is
I’m free to Feel
And Self-Reveal
What Conceals
Within my poetry:
It Shines a Beam
As Friendly Monsters Kindly
Split the Tab ‘twixt YOU and ME.

WHAT A BITCH!! ♨️

That Girl Right there is One Cool Bitch.
That Bitchy girl? What a Bitch!
You don’t have to even Bitch
About that Girl
Cause she’s a Bitch.
Bitchy Girls Don’t Like to Bitch,
Play Kiss & Tell, Drink Tea then Spill
It: That’s a “Heartless Bitch.”
Say you’ll always stay a bitch
Cause each of us is “One Tough Bitch!”

The Bitchiest Bitches Ever Bitched.

Karaoke and Other Coping Cliches

Be careful who you dismiss as “shallow” or “not serious enough.”

Some people have been so subtracted from, they’re not just empty, they’re minus.

Fleeting happiness is welcomed as a distraction, but the change in direction can cause emotional whiplash; a disorder known for releasing peals of startled laughter, often transforming the source of the laughter into an obsession. Or an addiction.

These people are so acclimated to chronic anguish, they’re easily amused.

My point? Simply to “not judge a book by its cover.” Or even better: “Don’t dismiss someone as a ‘novella’ until you’ve read her unabridged story.”

There is Virtue in Suffering

There is Virtue in Suffering

Pain Resides in Us and we can’t escape ourselves despite our noble and ignoble institutions, substances, activities, behaviors, distractions, and sundry other coping behaviors to help us do so.

All immersion in suffering-displacing techniques TEMPORARILY displaces Pain, but by displacing Pain, we’re also displacing Self-Acceptance, which I believe is the seed which grows into the Giant Redwood of Joyful Wholeness. I’m not OFFICIALLY sure because I’m not there yet!

I do want to clarify: when I talk about Pain I’m talking about Feeling Pain vs. Painful Events Occurring in a person’s life. If we survive both of them, we come out Overcomers or Victims, respectively.

I think I decided to allow Pain to have its way with me when I got sick and tired of being victimized by what felt like was Everybody, Everyone, and Everything. I was living my entire life in the Adult Biped Version or the Human Fetal Position. I don’t know that I’m NOT now.

But at least I KNOW IT, HAVE PROCESSED IT, AM WORKING ON IT, AM WRITING ABOUT IT, and AM SHARING IT.

By doing all of these things, I am bursting my bubbles, dashing my hopes, tarnishing my image, shattering my ego, losing my dreams, disappointing others instead of myself, burning my bridges, clearing my slates, starting at zero (zero is delicious), beginning again, growing into, becoming, expanding my options, opening doors, breaking ceilings, running deep, running low, running high, running new, and STARTING OVER.

At MY age!! And with all of my wretched disgusting awful brokenness, I STILL can’t believe how wonderful the person I’m turning into is becoming! I know it sounds corny, but when you’re not running away from yourself, you realize you’re not so bad. Maybe you’re even pretty amazing.

Thanks to Everyone [SO much] for going on this journey with me❣️ I honestly think it’s very brave of you.

Though Grace 🌞 has always been here, and she’s still alive to tell about it!! ♥️

ALSO: I know I’ve mentioned it before, BUT IN CASE ANYBODY MISSED IT, Everyone DOES realize I’ve written the ENTIRETY of this blog with my Right Thumb on the WordPress App on my IPhone 12 Mini, Right? I’m blind, dead, and dumb because of it [yes, I said “desd”], so hopefully you’ll excuse any typos.

WHAT?

What are you gonna DO to me that hasn’t already been DONE to me?

What are you gonna take AWAY from me that hasn’t already been taken away from me?

Don’t ever underestimate people with nothing left to lose.

They’ve been known to surprise on the Final Act.

Which we can change to “The Last Half” if it sounds too ominous the other way.

I wasn’t aiming for dark overtones – I was thinking more “I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar.”

It says a lot about my mental exhaustion at the moment that I’d rather explain this than just clarify my writing,

I’m So Proud of You

I’m so proud of you, Grown-Up Little Girl!

You keep tearing on yourself, but can I tell you You’ve surpassed my expectations for Us?

The way you keep on staying brave and open, well frankly, I’m astounded.

I never knew you’d be such a LOVER and a FIGHTER❣️

Falling Up

The strong fighting the strong,
often in the form of sport,
holds no interest for me.

I’m captivated by watching
the Repeatedly Fallen
repeatedly get up.

Is it Greener?

There was a green hydrant named Fred
Who found Himself lost in his bed.
He searched and he sought,
Reasons were bought,
But a thought always stuck in his head:
“If THIS is my life, I choose death.”

‘Twer me, I’d choose Fried Love instead.
Because…
Their grass isn’t greener;
Their houses aren’t cleaner.
What’s green is the Envy
Converting your Longing to Dread.

So stop feeling sorry,
Eject all this worry.
Freedom’s sole home is your Head.

(Thanks @lakegrass for the use of your photo)

Bullies & Heroes

The Intimidated Intimidate.
The Tormented Torment.
The Bullied Bully.
The Beaten Beat.
The Hurting Hurt.

The Constantly Criticized Criticize.

And though this isn’t popular: those who abuse have usually been abused.

Garbage In, Garbage Out, FIFO, LIFO, and the Pythagorean Theorem.

It’s called Learned Behavior.

Yet everyone knows a dog who’s been hideously hurt by human hands and chosen (somehow?) to trust again.

If these courageous canines can overcome our hate when their survival depends on it, surely we can treat each other (and them) a little better?

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?

I Was Wrong (Once)!

I need to apologize to my father because I thought there were no photos of just the two of us. There are many, but my ex-husband had them for the last 13 years.

It turns out he has had, in his possession, the only set of our wedding photos (that I paid for at the time!) for the last 13 years.

Why didn’t I badger him about them? I was just trying to get by, brothers and sisters. Those were “one foot in front of the other” days. Surely you’ve experienced those?

Also, to be fair, I somehow forgot about them. Forgot about the complete and utter existence of these photos. Or possibly even thought I had forgotten them. It happens. A 9-year-marriage full of heartache followed by a 250-mile move, 13 years of silence between us, and a bunch of new heartache will leave gaps in a person’s memory (thank goodness).

Anyway, said ex-husband was decent enough to scan and copy a set of the photos for me. I could make lots of snarky little comments here, but honestly, I’m so grateful for the photos, my “higher self” is taking over.

It makes me tear up a little to see the images of my father and me, smiling and happy that day. They actually make me miss him and the way he almost used to be.

You can’t deny he was handsome. I can’t say “he was so nice,” “he loved me so much,” or “we shared such great times.” But I can definitively say “he was a nice-looking man!”

So, maybe that’s where I got it? Only partially, if I’m honest. The photos of my Mom prove it was definitely a team effort.

I think these images also demonstrate what a “normal”, outwardly-together, seemingly-privileged person I used to be.

I don’t know whether to celebrate or not, but those days have definitely passed.

My Dad & Me
DNA all over my face
My mother and father
Bride and siblings, stepmother
The bride and her Grandaddy

Actually, I’m thankful. Now is better than Then, even though it doesn’t always feel like it. Now has to be better than Then, or else how would we keep going?