Tag Archives: letting go

Use your delusion Pt. 1

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Use your delusion Pt. 1

I’ve already began the process

Of grieving the products of my own imagination.

Recently implemented new rules of engagement;

Limiting all talks with friends,

all of them.

To under 5 minute long interactions.

Unless they’re my exes…

I figure I’ve dibs.

(I know! I knoooow.)

I know it makes me selfish;

Realizing more each day-

I want to be “chosen”

I NEED to be “chosen”

whatever that means…

I think I always have.

Reflecting on all the times

Situations…

I felt I needed to be…

Should have been…

Chosen…

by anyone-

Chosen…

over others;

over addictions

Chosen for me

Who I am

Not what I could be.

Not what I could provide.

Services I could render.

What I could become.

Just the real and authentic me.

Most only saw the mes

making the choices…

To leave

To make them

Sooner…

Later…

My choice.

Thimble

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Thimble

Lately I’ve been “nesting.”

Chasing serotonin and conviction- reclaiming my own curtilage.

And yet, entertaining;

Fellini-esque fantasies.

While balancing the romantic…

with the absurd.

Still, fantasies indeed are dangerous things.

Particularly;

when one feels unchallenged or complacent…

It’s easy to believe that things mean more-

Connections or kismet or fated-

too often just a novel distraction

They would soon grow bored of…

He gave her his heart,

she gave him a pen.

Is it ever real?

Too often oxytocin fueled.

And hypervigilance gives way

To resolute avoidance and/or

The altruistic conundrum-

there is no unselfish deed…

And like she said, “perhaps…”

I’ve already had my chance for that type of happiness.

Nonetheless, a growth mindset.

Endeavor to be present.

Stay the course.

Self actualize myself.

Alone is not so bad.

Lonely is much worse.

Photo from: www.shopstudiosisters.com

Jam

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Jam

I’m still waiting to not miss you- 

It’s been months since you’ve been gone

(…Maybe even years)

I don’t miss the days of silence- 

It’s so quiet and still, less alone

(… Much less frequent tears)

You’re still in nearly all my dreams-

You’ve become some sort of archetype

(… Mostly for my fears)

You cross my mind I feel gut punched- 

You affect me still in this way

(… Memories trigger gears)

I haven’t even had a kiss-

I try to put myself out there

(…  Move away when it nears)

Did I dream or did I wake- 

Daily wake up in a foggy panic

(…  Mad at me when it clears)

And yet- I’m waiting to not miss you-

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.

Oh me

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Oh me

I live in a huge house now…

full of closed doors;

For energy conservation,

Of course.

Secrets of life…

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Secrets of life…

I’m spending time with a hospice client today who is telling me the secrets of life… they’ve been married two times, 20 years the first time, and 52 years the second. (!!!!)

They say the secret to life is “…to love and let them love you. It’s the only thing that lasts and the only thing you can control. Sometimes. Anger and hate fade away and you don’t remember what exactly you were sore about, but you never forget the reasons you love someone or how it felt when they loved you.”

I’m not crying. YOU’RE CRYING.

Carry on.

Like a flock of seagulls…

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Like a flock of seagulls…

I dreamt you went away;

Quite literally, you ran, in fact.

I woke to find you there yet;

Still beside me, corporally, intact.

I decided to ignore it;

The feeling, dismissed, the context abstract.

Dreams for sale:

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Dreams for sale:

Sold two wedding dresses today:

One, unworn and white.

The second; loved yet stained…. with the paint I wore to hide me.

Last remnants of a former self,

Sold to the highest bidder.

Eutetic

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Eutetic

Thought I was the Gallium,

It seems I am the Indium.

Electricity shorts out in tears-

Frazzled charges,

you can’t predict.

I want to be surrounded:

Encompassed;

Supported.

Find myself mixing in

Like T-1000, shapeshifting

All the parts of myself

into a palatable poison.

 

It’s true….

I make a sufficient version

Of a reflective surface

To provide you foundation

For building.

Liquid transistors from

Your quick silver mouth,

Unintentionally spewing mercury.

Not understanding the rise in heat…

As I stretch myself into thin circuits.

 

While in non-consensual secrecy,

I constantly pour myself out.

Waiting for the reciprocal…

(All the while, knowing the odds)

Praying for a recharge.

Poking keys into outlets-

Waiting for the spark-

(That I known is going to hurt…)

Pressing tiny diodes,

Like perpetual LEDs,

Embedded in fully cured resin.

 

An unassuming alloy,

Hidden and presented as an ally,

(im)patiently waiting

for the moment…

you decide to let me in.

Another crystal lattice,

I should have known better.

(should know better.)

I’ve seen this pattern before.

But here I am,

Tonguing all the nine volts,

Wishing you would just touch me.

Aw, snap.

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Aw, snap.

It’s a heavy realization:

Reflecting on 39 years

And discovering:

YOU ARE

You are the most prolific liar in your life…And always have been.

Personally, I can convince myself that everything is true;

Okay;

Perfect;

Rational;

Fated;

“The right choice.”

Rarely am I telling myself the truth-

Especially not in my head.

Engine light

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Engine light

“Navigator” is an important role…

But so is “Driver”.

Both must give up control of many aspects…

But trust that both intend to arrive at the agreed destination…

Hope; that both travel in the same direction…

at similar speeds…

attitudes and road games can cause wear and tear…

upon both the vehicle and the occupants…

GPS often requires signals that can get lost…

Sometimes you just need to pull over and look at the map.

Kuiha

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Kuiha

Morning light in view

Bed warm with an empty side, still

Listen for your breath

A poem to a ghost 2.0: Post-ghost writing….

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A poem to a ghost 2.0: Post-ghost writing….

In loving you I have loved myself

They are one in the same

tethering myself to you through the years

Love is a strength that grounds us

I needed to see myself as you see me

You are as I see you

I have anchored myself in that which is the you I have created

Through a glass, darkly

but you need to move on

I do, but not from you.  We have always been together.  Always.

I understand that now

into the beautiful ether…

Back from the beautiful, yet terrifying, ether.  This world is my ground.

Into the rest of your own experience

Don’t be silly, things are not so serious as we make them.

Souls united as ours cannot be separated

This is truth.

in truth

but the tie that binds can be undone

Quantum Mechanics, my darling

In loving myself I can love you

You can do both

but letting you go shall be my

True love is free, and unconditional.

most loving action for you.

*Original version published March 14th, 2012

**Bold written by someone besides me.

Being a slave to my fear

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Being a slave to my fear

Recently a friend and I were talking about fear and things that people regret; how someone had said that people don’t lie in their death beds and regret the things that they did, but the things that they didn’t. While I know that I am not necessarily unique in this regard, I (and those that know me for any length of time in real life) realize that more often than not, it is not what I “do not DO” per se, it is what I do not say that I regret. Doing things is easy. I am prone to bouts of monomania and once I decide to do something, I pretty much do not stop until I do it. This has both hindered and helped me in my life. It has gotten me out of shitty relationships, shitty situations, kept me from being an addict, kept me from having a criminal record, etc.

On the other side, it probably contributed to me being in those relationships/situations and it also provided me with a less than stellar job history in my early 20’s. Now that I appear to be a responsible adult on paper, it leads to some really interesting conversations about why my unique name and social security number come up in at least ten states connected to lots of different things. It’s also why I could never change my name again (not that I would want to, Jesus.) My wanderlust may be considered maladaptive, but I think it is the ultimate adaptive strategy; I either become what I need to be to fit into the situation or I leave the situation. It has definitely been a key piece to my resilience. It’s how I cope. What else can I say?

The things that I look back on my life and wish I had done differently are always things that I wish I had said; opportunities I passed up to say something and just see where the chips lie. When I was younger and didn’t really give a fuck about what people thought because my temporal lobe and prefrontal cortex had not finished developing, it was no big thing. I could say something and mean it for a half hour and then change my mind immediately.

As I got older, and more experience with how people received the things that I said, I became afraid of seeming needy or sounding weird or maybe I was afraid people would think that I wanted something from them, even if I didn’t want anything except the shared experience.

It really has become a “white men can’t jump” situation and I am Rosie Perez. Don’t get me a glass of water, motherfucker. Tell me you know how it feels to be thirsty. Or better yet, tell me you are thirsty, too.

I very rarely tell people how I really feel about people or situations these days. And I regret that. I regret not allowing myself to not have control of a situation or not being able to control what people think of me when I say something so I don’t say it.

And I know, oh I know, control is an illusion.

But I still feel like I must be my best PR agent.

If I tell you what I really think and feel, you are going to think I am a fucking loon.

Or, in the alternative, you will reciprocate. We will have a laugh. We will share a moment that no one else has experienced with either of us and feel freedom in the genuine exchange of energy and sincere emotion, regardless of the influence of chemicals either internally created or externally consumed.

But fear does not let me see that reality when I am calculating the potential outcomes.

Living in a choose your own adventure book has it’s negatives as well. The end is always evolving based on every choice, every word.

So today, I am letting go of that need for control.

I have put into motion certain things that will free me from this illusion of control over actions and feelings.

No more will I reflect upon a situation and wish I had been totally fucking honest in my words as well as my actions.

Actions are easy.

Ironically for me, words are hard.

If they like what I have to say, awesome.

If not, fuck em.