Author Archives: Jani

About Jani

Jani grew up a gypsy anachronism, spending her early life taming her wanderlust. She clawed her way into the real world eventually obtaining two highly unpractical degrees, two children, six figure student loans, and a sarcastic wit that is matched by few. She now lives in the Walterverse where she received her MSW at a ridiculously expensive University. She followed this achievement by spending thousands more on even more useless letters to put after her name. Her future plans are to pay for the useless extra letters after her name as a super heroine. In the event that plan doesn't "work" out, she plans to return to her roots as vagabond gypsy busking in one way or another.HuZzah.

Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em

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Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em

I can go months-

Years without a cigarette.

Until I get a certain sad that only smoking (thus far) relieves… maladaptive or not…

it’s a coping skill too…

Said certain sadness passes…

Cue subsequent guilt for even purchasing…

Then! (as if to punish myself for it)

I am compelled to finish the pack.

Oy.

We’re never really finished, I guess.

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Heavy in His arms

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Heavy in His arms

Surrounded by the ever present Spectre of death…

Mortality itself has haunted since the 11th year-

Family & friends dying like the Hemingways and Fondas having a competition…

Addictions and violence permeate a life… a society… a culture.

Supporting those you love,

Facing my own fears;

Tasked with aiding those in grief…

A lifetime of training?

They don’t tell you the right things to say…

Or even the wrong things to say.

“It will always come in waves… they just get further between…”

Weak tea for the knock kneed.

God

Life

Energy

Grief

Stages

Birth to death and all between;

Beautiful acceptance to righteous anger-

Fuck this mortal coil.

Oedipus

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Oedipus

What a compounding thought-

Reflecting on my daddy issues;

My insane need for a father figure…

What I needed was a foundation-

“The all father”

A God:

for all intents and purposes-

An education on faith-

Grace-

Forgiveness-

Repentance AND reconciliation.

A basis for growth- a reason for service and understanding of trauma-

And finally- a present presence.

Ache

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Ache

I’ve subdued my urges-

As often as I can…

Quieting the undesired parts of self.

But still… it’s not enough-

Now, inactions aren’t enough…

Words now forbidden-chastised-shamed-

Acutely.

What next?

Thoughts?

Always ok.

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Always ok.

It’s not crazy-

To question all of your decisions-

While holding your knees and rocking…

At the bottom…

of a dark closet-

Simultaneously:

lamenting;

and experiencing déjà vu…

realizing the trauma root to your aesthetic preferences…

synthesizing information, emotions, perceptions, programming…

Understanding leads to despair and experience leads to scripted good guesses…

“Fear is the path to the dark side.”

Leaps of faith…

Crisis of confidence?

Hope being what’s left and hoping because there’s nothing left-

Love or fear, only two choices…

At the heart of it…

Still rocking…

Still rocking…

Still rocking…

Bottom of a dark closet.

Soundlessly chanting-

beneath the typhoon in my bedroom…

I’m ok.

I’m ok.

I’m ok.

I’m always ok.

it’s not crazy- it’s human, right?

JAM, not jelly.

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JAM, not jelly.

Temporarily tattooed words,

over my heart-

across my breasts.

 

Mirror opposites for your view,

and mine…

Though the ink disappears,

all feelings remain.

Neither game, nor war.

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Neither game, nor war.

Redundant shields failing-

and to the victor go the spoils.

Spoils of anger;

spoils of fear; and

spoils of doubt.

 

There’s no way to plan tactically-

when there is no consistency;

it is like trying to flank cats…

 

Knowing what we need

AND

also…. communicating it?

Ah…. that’s the secret.

 

Feelings can be stifled-

suppressed;

projected-

predicted.

Reactions?

No dice.

 

Purpose required.

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Purpose required.

Have you ever wanted something so bad,

you work and sacrifice….

Go a little mad…

Obtain said goal.

And then-

As though you had been…

chasing the proverbial dragon,

you are again unsatisfied?

Its easy to feel very sad and isolated-

Lonely in this big house-

Full of white noise and silences…

Inconsistently closed yet open doors.

Still trying to adjust- adapt…

Handle all the new noises

Suppress all the annoying ones,

Lament the loss of the old ones;

Not regret not covet-

Missing the tiny place somehow-

Although cramped quarters-

Happiness was found in those small spaces;

No choice but intimacy-

And shared purpose.

Oh me

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Oh me

I live in a huge house now…

full of closed doors;

For energy conservation,

Of course.

Fickle Mistress

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Fickle Mistress

How much can one heart hold:

Sadness-

Love-

Anger-

Happiness?

Swelling and contracting

Heaving like a deep breathing chest

Rising and falling;

like rapid cycling moods.

Hearts can heal

All too often it seems

Just in time to break-

again.

Love-

Love is a tricky bitch.

And hope?

Hope is a fickle mistress.