i miss the person i used to be
i hate the person i used to be
i ache for the life i used to lead
i’m scared of going back to that life i once lead
the flashbacks offer heart-stopping anxiety
the flashbacks offer comfort and consistency
why can’t i ever figure out
what i want
for me?
therapy through writing
December 10, 2022
write fast
low batt
oh no
your little arms are shaking
quaking in your shoeless boots
how long till the computer shuts down
could be two seconds
could be ten minutes
who knows
who knows
~~~
is my writing any good?
i ask in a poem
no one
will probably ever see
but me
~~~
the feels
are getting to me–
the random flashes of memory,
the stop-me-in-my-tracks because
a song reminds me of
a random day i had once
so so long ago
but it won’t leave my head–
why can’t i move on?
be the person i want to be?
connect with the child i used to be
without this inner teen crashing the party
every time i try to heal?
(i know,
i know,
it’s because i need to heal
the adolescent
as well)
December 8, 2022
i don’t understand
how to be a person
interacting with other people.
i kind of understand
how to be a person
interacting with one other person,
and i kind of understand
how to be a me
interacting with only myself;
but multiple others???
i either am too loud
or too quiet
or too uncomfortable to do anything else—
so…what does that mean?
does that make me less of a person?
or more?
does it make me an introvert?
does it make me socially anxious?
or simply anxious all the time?
is my perception of myself based on how little others can perceive me?
or is it something else entirely?
or are these all questions
that only i can answer
for myself/
accurately
?
December 4, 2022
how
can i constantly feel
like a novice
in all i do?
i’ve performed all my life,
but i still feel second/
third/
fourth/fifth/sixth/
end of the line
when it comes to opportunities
for the stage/screen arts.
i’ve had six plus years in the air,
but i’m a perpetual student
here.
i’ve written
every
single
morning
poetry
for over a year and a half,
but i’m still too scared to submit,
to hear the possibility
that i’ll forever be
amateur;
living only for the love of words,
never ‘going anywhere’ with it.
and what’s so bad about that?
capitalism/colonialism/white supremacy
forces our minds to find some meaning
out of what we can produce/expert the field
in a way that makes money—
churn out content/
content/
you need to create more content…
where is the place for creating for the sake of creativity?
and why can’t i find my own balance?
i think
it’s because
i just want to feel
like i know
something.
i want to feel adept/
professional/
expert/
master/
ace/
like i don’t have to second guess every choice i make—
that’s what i want out of my crafts.
November 26, 2022
the mood:
negative
the mood:
dour
the mood:
almost happy
for a little while
the mood:
existential
the mood:
hopeless
the mood:
hopeful
for once
hold on to it
it’s gone
the mood:
emptiness
is there a mood at all?
the mood:
cyclical
i should be used to it by now
the mood:
ever-changing
ever-growing
ever-morphing
into a new mood
a new emotion
a new thing to think and remember and grow
the mood:
i’m not worried
about my mood
(is
this
happiness?)
the mood:
how did i even get here?
to this place?
to this age?
to this mood?
to this hair?
to this me?
the mood:
the mood:
the mood:
[did i discover anything of substance?]
November 19, 2022
i’ve been unintentionally rhyming
for a little while now
and i don’t know
how
i feel about it.
~~~
more words
more feelings
more emotions
more muck
to get out of my system
and out of my brain
to stream through the eyes/fingertips
onto a screen
where words seem so foreign
when writing from the heart
but here i am
here i go
here i
start
~~~
i’ve got good stuff
lately
and again
i don’t know how
i feel about
it
November 14,2022
how do you
become at peace
with the fact
that you will never be doing enough?
i don’t know
but i think
that’s how to approach
anti-racism
anti-white-supremacy
anti-any-hate
in a sustainable way
(because otherwise
the sides of the coin
are performative
or overwhelmed catatonia
and neither
actually provide
results
or action)
~~~
there really is a comfort
to having a canine
use your leg
as a pillow
to prop up
their heavy heavy chin
~~~
when i pet my pets
the studies run through my head
of how this act helps the serotonin levels
in humans’ (and dogs’) brains
but i know my serotonin
or the transmitters that run it along
aren’t working at their full strength
so i often think to myself
“ok, here we go, serotonin, you can do it!!!”
just to help it
a bit
sometimes we need
store-bought chemicals
and sometimes we need
our own cheering squad
and sometimes we need
both
and that shouldn’t be looked down upon
November 11, 2022
i just
want to do
something
with my hands
embroidery
or sewing
beading
or cross-stitch
i’d try crochet
or knotting up friendship bracelets
at this point i’d give wire jewelry-making a go
but my brain
when i sit down
with supplies
and a project in mind
it gives no explanation
but simply says
no
so my hands fidget
and my body holds in the pressure
of anxiety about to explode
but my depression-ridden brain
becomes its own worst enemy
it laughs in the face of my wants and desires
and it only
ever says
no
no
no
no
no
November 4, 2022
last night
i had
the worst insomnia
i’ve had
in years.
i mean,
i still have a fair bit of insomnia
that’s something that i think will never
fully
leave,
but i used to be so terrible
at relaxing enough
to fall asleep.
and then, after hours and hours
of trying and failing and trying and trying
and finally, finally dozing off,
i’d still wake up
multiple times in the night
often as awake as when i first laid down
just to start the cycle
all over again.
my insomnia these days
is pretty well relegated
to the waking up during the night—
to pee,
to toss,
to turn,
to overthink,
and then to fall asleep again–
sometimes just once,
sometimes countless times,
but the initial putting myself to bed
no longer that much of an issue
but last night…
oh
last
night
i was awake to the point where i convinced myself it was mania
i was so awake i could not even stay laying horizontal in a bed
i was awake enough to want to run around the house to exhaust myself
to read an entire novel
to start up the late night conversations
with other insomniacs
[not] in my area
i was awake and up and i panicked a little
because, though it’s been nearly a decade,
i’m so familiar with that level
of awakeness
before
bed
but
these days i have a spouse
these days i have settled hormones
these days i have a knowledge and sense of self i never had all those years ago
but really
these days
i have a spouse
who loves me
and who i can rely on
who would stay up with me all night if i needed them to
but who comforts me to the point
of relaxing enough
to fall asleep
(and only wake up once in the night)