self

April 13, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

did the work
did the thing
should i feel accomplished?

here’s the rub:
i know it could have gone better
(i know it could have gone worse)
but
it has become part of me
part of my mornings
(alongside my coffee)

and yeah, i guess i’ve learned a little
about myself
my words
my process(es)
my struggle-busses
(though i still feel so far away from having any of those
actually/totally ‘figured out’)

but does it have to mean anything?
does there have to be a large lesson learned
do our lives ever truly have
a beginning/middle/end
(except
birth/
the entirety of our lives/
death)
?

so,
i tell myself
from myself
to myself,
stop trying to make a neat story
where life just is
(that’s the fun thing about life:
it doesn’t get tied in a nice bow
at the end of every chapter;
it seeps
and bleeds
into every part of you;
your childhood
didn’t just cut off when you turned teen,
your teen-self didn’t stop teen-ing
when you entered college,
and with every passing year
you grow
but you can’t just let go
of who you once were,
you carry those stories
those strengths and faults
those likes and dislikes
those selves
with you
always,
they are part of what helped you get here;
you can’t have leaves without the branches,
and you can’t have branches without the trunk,
and you certainly can’t have a trunk without the roots
(and, if we’re comparing ourselves to trees now,
we might as well commit
and talk about how,
underneath,
supporting the roots themselves,
are mycelial networks
helping with nutrients
and
connecting trees to each other
and
living symbiotically,
so community
is the lesson learned there:
not even trees
stand solely alone)
)

so
i suppose
what i/this poem
are saying
is
this experiment might continue on for another year
or another five
or stop abruptly
just before another year mark
or i might not poem tomorrow

the point
is that i did it
i proved to myself
that i could do it
(though, with my stubbornness, i didn’t have too much doubt)
and i’ve written
(at least) one poem
every
single
day
for a year
and posted them
for the internet to see

and that’s all that matters
(right now, at least)

March 17, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

my sense of self
has never grown
past the age of the trauma

and while i’ve continued to wade through
life
and experiences
past eleven years old,
the photographic evidence proves nothing.
as that isn’t me.
can’t be.

maybe that’s why it felt so good
to change my appearance
so drastically;

the old ‘look’ was simply a shadow
of who i imagined i was,
a poorly made copy
adding weight
and height
and unnecessary curves
and worry in the heart and mind

but maybe this me
recreated like a phoenix from the ashes
of who i thought i’d be
can be the one who finally
stands in front of the small
blonde
little [girl]
in a frilly dress
and skinned knees,
and they can look this
non-binary adult
with rainbow hair
and gender-euphoria pants
and at last say
with confidence
and ownership
and love
“that’s me!”

January 21, 2022

/ HJ / Leave a comment

what’s it like
to know what you want
day to day?
week to week?
year to year?
life to life?
[i wonder
and ponder
my own life through)

or

what’s it like
to see so few choices
that the choice seems
obvious
to you?

decision paralysis
is a subject
i’ve written abut before
(and thought/think about
damn near daily)
and yet
the subject
never seems
‘done’
to me.

(but maybe
it’s a combination
of regular decision paralysis
and the big choices i’m stuck on
that bleed into the littler ones:
my indecision
about my own career
(minus the big reasons i’ve chosen acting,
which is also a way to feed the paralysis;
acting has in it
the opportunity
to be
every career
with
every character),
but within that big choice
i get stuck on
what i want to wear
day to day
or what music
i’d like
to listen to…
but/because there are other things
i know
i like
and want:
i love all animals,
and rainbow is my favorite color,
and kindness i hold above all,
and coffee is the best drink (besides water),
i’m always in the mood for
bagels, indian food, or ice cream,
and i know i need balance in my day-to-day choices:
too much of socialization
will lead to needing a lot of alone time to re-charge,
and similarly,
too much solitary time on my own
and i begin to fall apart)

so, what is the conclusion,
or even the thesis,
of this poem?

is it simply that i can continue to be freaked out
by decisions
and the paralyses they induce,
but i should also admit
the duality
of the human spirit
and that i know what i want
far more than my paralysis shows?

or is it simply
to make a strong choice
and stick with it
(the lessons learned in improv class
so long ago)?

November 8, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

there are so many facets of myself
that i wish were truly true
i want to be the tragic ending,
the too good for this world
the died much too young,
and i want to be the puck
the trickster
the bringer of chaos and of all unknowns,
and i want to live long long long,
and i want to be arson
and i want to be fairy
and i want to be cryptid
and i want to be house spouse
and i want to be parent
and i want to be cool aunt/uncle
and i want to be chestless
and i want to float between and above and around and absent and outside of…

but if i’m to believe Rain, what we do is truly part of us,
so does that extend to the wants as well?

June 4, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i think
i put things off
as a way to prove
that i am,
in fact,
a horrible person.

i am aware
that technically
this issue
stems directly
from depression:
‘executive dysfunction’

but that doesn’t stop me from observing myself
outside in
seeing the things i put off
the things i actually do
and making an educated guess.

and yes,
of course,
the depression absolutely affects the way(s) in which i view myself
and not only would i not have this executive dysfunction
if i didn’t have the depression
i also wouldn’t have such a low opinion of myself

but somehow i’ve decided that the two are linked
and that the effect is the cause, and the cause is the effect
because i can’t just see it as simple brain chemistry,
a result of this battle that’s been raging
in my brain
for years

that would be too easy
too simple
and it takes the blame off of my choices and actions
it puts those things out of my control
and if there’s one thing i have more of
than depression/anxiety
it’s control issues

so
instead
i’ve decided
that my executive dysfunction is not this ‘hard-to-quantify
direct mis-firing of neurons
in my brain’,
but instead it stems from my self-esteem
and my desire to be a good person
but ‘knowing’
deep down
that i am the actual worst
my worthlessness showing up
in my inactions

and that way i can blame my depression
as well as my whole sense of self.

May 27, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

why is it that
when i was so young
(and looked like a baby)
i felt so damn old,

and why is it that
now that i’m older
(though i still look a bit young)
i feel like a baby?

(i actually know the answer to this:
it’s the trauma.)

May 26, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

writing
posting
editing
sharing
there is a different me that comes out
whenever i start to edit and actually do things
(but, again, is that the real me?
is there only one true real me?
are all these hjs part of the one true hj?)
and that’s why i get so freaked out
with the internet and social media
because it only really allows for one of you,
when truly
everyone is made up of so much:
their thoughts and feelings
their past and memories
their response to trauma
their response to non-trauma
any mental illness(es) they may (or may not) have
their likes
and loves
and dislikes
and hates
the people who raised them
the people they raised
the people surrounding them
the people they’ve stopped attaching themselves to
their schooling
their education
(because those are two separate things)
their hobbies and interests
the things they do when they’re bored
the dreams and hopes and aspirations
and even as i list these things
even if i were able to list all the things i could think up
in words and analogies and metaphors and phrases
it still wouldn’t be enough
because,
though i do love to complain about them,
humans are beautiful and complex creatures,
and they can never be summed up
in words;
the ineffable beings,
the infinity of selves,
they (we) all hold inside.

May 23, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

i feel so disconnected from myself
but i’ve had so many selves over the past 27+ years
am i disconnected from all of my selves
or just the most recent?
(because if we’re being brutally honest,
this is pretty close to the self that i had in late high school/early college,
complete with internal struggles
and external outbursts
and not connecting with anyone the way i might have wanted
or needed)
but i can’t place my finger on what’s different…
is it that i have better coping mechanisms?
is it that i have kip?
is it that i have beings to care for?
(and even then, there’s something stale and over-done in all of this,
even within the difference…)
i feel that need for a change,
the way i only get when i’m frustrated and groping for something to hold on to.
this would be the perfect time to get that tattoo;
i’ve been pondering it for the last five years,
so it wouldn’t be a stupid/rash/spontaneous decision
but it would probably fulfill my urges towards self harm
(but in a healthier way, and isn’t that what we want?
we can’t necessarily get rid of all our coping mechanisms
but we can choose the healthier[est] of the options…)

what i want
more than anything
is to be a kid again
to explore the woods behind our property
and feel like i have no expectations on me,
feel like i still have my entire life ahead of me,
because, damn, i’ve felt like most of my life has been over
since i was fifteen/sixteen,
and it hasn’t been true yet,
so why do i keep acting like it is.

April 14, 2021

/ HJ / Leave a comment

if i’m going to be completely honest with myself
(and yes, that’s a worthy, but lofty goal,)
i’d say i’m frightened of what’s in my head.

and yet, i’m so curious.

and if i’m going to be completely honest with myself,
the second day is when the goal succeeds or fails
(or maybe it’s the third day
or the fourth
or the fifth
or…)

what i’m trying to say is that i
had such a good idea of what to poem about
yesterday
but today the well feels dry
[did i use it all up yesterday?
did i use it all up in the whole concept of this plan?
should i even be writing these poems with the word
“i”?]

the concept is a whole collections of contemplations
one for each day of each week of each month of this one
year.

perhaps it’ll help me write better
perhaps it’ll show me fortitude and consistency
perhaps i’ll give up after a while
(but i’ll still learn some important lessons along the way)
but what i want to know is:
when will i get to the good stuff,
the tough internal workings,
the contemplations on life and death and the liminal space in-between,
the inter-personal inner-workings of being,
instead of just writing about my plan to write?