Stream of Consciousness

i live inside a cemetery

i had given up. thrown in the last scrap of a soul i had and let myself die. no more embers to search for, no warmth regardless of where i searched.

i had written my name in the book of the dead, with a gun to my head. under extreme duress, i guess i had nowhere to turn.

you took it all away, piece by piece, bit by bit. you slithered into my body and broke everything down. until breathing became the only measurement of success. but that’s not a purpose, now is it? that’s not joy, no matter how you spin it.

you destroyed me and dropped me in the expanse of emptiness, left me to wipe away the waterfall of blood and submerged me til i couldn’t find the surface. it’s an inky little vibe, drowning for no one to see.

that’s the kicker, isn’t it?

that i can follow my own footsteps into a soft and cavernous valley. i can lay back in the water and let the ocean waves take me. but you won’t let me feel it, will you? i can’t have peace when i’m nothing more than a body on life support, living inside a cemetery.

i had given up but you wouldn’t let me have that either.

 

so i put one foot in front of the other and kept going until i found myself right here.

i think i hate superhero stories because they don’t exist. not for me anyway. no one and nothing is coming to help me, not even when i ask for it. not when i’m begging for something to get better, lying in the bath and wondering if i’m any cleaner.

the evil moved into my body and took over. it’s inside my blood, running my insides into the ground. i’m fighting a devil that lives inside my cells and no one can find the key to fixing me.

i’m not supposed to be bitter or struggling to survive. i’m not supposed to be lost behind fog and smoke and mirrors, not supposed to be crying on the floor and crawling on broken skin. these fingers lash at me, pointing out all my flaws and shoulds, like i chose this, picked this broken box up and jumped inside.

i didn’t. i’m running and running and fighting to break free. but i open my eyes in the morning to find i’ve woken up in yesterday, my body broken and my heart taking another hit.

i know this anger won’t serve me, so i stuff it in the closet and behind furniture. i don’t want it, plea with it to leave me be. but you always find it, don’t you? i can’t scream, i can’t find a moment, not a sliver, just for me.

i’m supposed to feel better. i’m supposed to be hopeful and bouncy and talk about how grateful i am to be alive.

but am i?

alive?

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Stream of Consciousness

Peace in the Holiday Bustling

 

This holiday season is different for me.

Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years.

If you celebrate something different than Christmas, no exclusion here. This includes you too.

 

Difference of perspective is what I wish we would all accumulate this year.

Peace instead of rat racing about, hurrying for this sale or that. Running to this relative’s house with every present we can find, ignoring sneers and petty comments because that’s what we’re supposed to do. Love instead of yelling and snapping when someone drops a feather on top of the stress-filled weekend because that’s what family does. Respect instead of ramming shopping carts into toddlers so that one sale doesn’t evade. Hope instead of miserating over aloneness.

Peace. Love. Respect. Hope.

Let’s go with those.

Instead of “shoulds”. Instead of “because that’s what family does”.

Should is a quick fix if you want suffering.

And for the record, family is respectful. Genetic donors are not. Family is understanding, forgiving, and will allow you to hold your boundaries without childish or spiteful vitriol. Genetically related individuals don’t’ make those loving choices.

Because let’s get honest. It’s a choice. Every moment is a choice.

We each have a choice.

Holiday spirit is real. If we chose to feel it. To make room in ourselves for it to enter.

To make room, we must cut some things out. Like hate. Resentment. Bitterness. Doubt. Rigidity. The belief that we have no control over ourselves, our lives, or the treatment we receive from others.

 

Peace. Love. Respect. Hope.

That’s my goal for this holiday season.

My hope for you, is the same.

 

 

I’ll just leave these thoughts here for you…. (they’re really resonating with me right now)

 

“Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place.”

 

“Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment.”

 

“Where there is ruin, there is hope for a treasure.”

 

Rumi