i hate that i can find the good
in almost everything
[i suppose this ability is there
to balance out the fact
that i can also find the most dire part
of almost any situation]
[and that there is probably the reason why
i hate my positive outlook
so much]
how can there be
so much horror in the world
alongside such beauty?
how can death happen one day
and the next, the miracle of a whole new life?
how can those celebrating a graduation/
a union/
pure friendship
be next door to
domestic violent terror
in one’s own home?
i haven’t figured out yet
how to be a happy person
while also knowing
so much that happens behind
tightly closed doors
in front of
tightly shut eyes
because, from my position here,
it feels counterintuitive —
i’m trapped in feeling like
one thing cannot be acknowledged
if the other isn’t also
but perhaps that’s my own black and white
fault
thinking
because there’s also
often
mundane day happening
alongside mundane day
and it’s the grey that
somehow
sometimes
keeps us going
counteract imposter syndrome
with delusions of grandeur
battle bouts of depression
with moments of absolute elation
fight against the tyranny of a fascist oligarchy
with anarchical acts of neighborly compassion
if your ‘natural state’ is one strong thing
make sure to balance it with
a little bit of its opposite
[if you can’t make yourself mellow,
at least average it out to
even-keel-ness]
here’s the thing:
i’ve been stuck for weeks,
more than a month,
and i cannot tell
if it’s depression rearing its ugly head,
or exhaustion with the state of things in the world,
or a normal human reaction to the sadnesses that have befallen
me/us
as of late
i can’t tell if my disinterest
in my chosen profession
is an actual drifting away,
or a lack of momentum needed
for this particular drive,
or that damn depression once more
and, like i used to beg and plea
for the universe to send me
some sort of sign that
the choices i was making
were ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ for my life,
i wish to all goodness that
i could simply know
which it was
(but here’s the other thing:
i bet it’s a bit
of everything,
and that nothing
is as black and white as i see it,
and there is no ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ in my life,
because my choices are mine
and my own to deal with,
so every decision splits a universe apart from mine
but is there one
where i’m
happy?
all/
or at least most/
of the time???)
autumn is a time for falling asleep
spring is the awakening
autumn is preparing for the months of winter depression
spring is shedding those sads
autumn is slowing, pondering, thinking, dying
spring is the adrenaline amping up again
so why do i feel so tired and sad and ponderous
while spring is all around me?
~~~
coffee
music
cat on lap
dog on couch
kip across the table
help me enter the day
my way
~~~
i know my headspace isn’t great
if i obsess over things
or
if i shoot from one subject matter
to the next
to the next
with no real resolution
and no thinking through to the end.
so why are my indications
entirely opposing?
is this my black and white thinking coming to some sort of fruition
or is this the source of my non-grey-mind?
the trauma was not good;
no amount of “things happen for a reason” will change that,
it was unfair, unfathomable, wildly wrong.
but how i choose to deal with the trauma,
how i have survived thus far,
and how i choose to keep on going,
that is where the beauty lies.
and i can adjust my own coping mechanisms;
make them healthier, make them stronger,
for nothing is truly “good” or “bad”
“positive” or “negative”
but there are healthier and not so healthy,
things that help me access my emotions
and perform acting in a real, vulnerable, and honest way,
and that is how i choose to keep going
(start going? this is technically all new to me…)
and, similarly,
there is no “recovered” vs. “not recovered”
there is in recovery and the levels therein.
but one level does not disappear once you move on to the next
they are uneven steps existing in a labyrinth
that sometimes require backtracking to continue on.
and if i can look at my own mental health
in a way
that is
Non-Binary
(just like me!)
then maybe,
just maybe,
i can make friends with my trauma
(and how i felt it initially/since)
and understand a little bit more about me
in the aftermath…
i’ve now been writing for a little more than a month and a half
and i just started posting like a week ago
it’s definitely given me a perspective
i didn’t expect…
confidence
in old poems
re-reading large poems
with big concepts
assuming i’d need to edit/adjust/revise
before wanting to post them
but feeling like they are whole
already.
i still don’t know what this actually means
for my skills
in poem-making,
if i’m still stuck in the black and white view of
good or bad
first draft comes from the heart/soul/gut
so any changes will be disingenuous
so just post it
as is
(but
what if
i’m not unlocking
my true potential from
within)
(or
am i simply
avoiding
what i know will turn into
obsessive
obsession
for making it perfect
when poetry
thrives
in
imperfection?)
~~~
is there another poem inside me
today
this morning
is there something else i need to get out
another concept to contemplate
another topic to purge from my soul
another thought, barely formed, scratching at the corners of my mind?
really
what i’m thinking this morning
is
it’s so dreary out
and i have so much to do
and my head hurts like crazy
and all my body wants to do is nap
and all i want to do is find any motivation
anything
at all.
~~~
and yet
(and yet)
i’m actually super stoked about posting?!?!
language(s),
culture(s),
french has my heart
(le français a mon cœur)
but spanish…
spanish would be smarter
spanish would be more useable
(spanish isn’t really that far from the other languages i’ve studied
so it’s not completely foreign,
though i do find myself speaking it like french,
pronouncing (or not pronouncing) half the words
nasally
throatily)
but why is this another case of
all or nothing
black or white
why do i feel like i have to get
completely
fully
100% fluent
in french
before i can even start to study another language?
(i’ve already traveled to spanish-speaking countries,
even after a few months of [re]studying the language,
and still spent most of my time caught with one word
in a fully thought out spanish sentence
stuck in french.
what is extra study in french
really
going to do?)
(other than getting me stuck
more?
)
kipventures 