‘THIS’

I have went back and forth,on even posting this? But the emotional roller-coaster of the past 24 has my head screaming to write.

Yesterday was my birthday.

Yesterday, I found a lump on my breast.

Yesterday, I felt fear.

Am still feeling fear.

I am still feeling fear, and so many other feelings. I don’t even know if they have names for those feelings?

And I started my day so normal. As I would any other weekday, getting ready for work and thinking of plans later for the evening celebrating with my family… And here,  not even 24 hrs later. I realize this fear has changed me.  Already.

Maybe it’s temporary. Maybe it will mark my words with its color forever.

But angrily I resent it.  I hate that it’s making me cry incoherent thoughts by witnessing the sunset, and its rise this morning. Or last night,  seeing smiles exchanged between lovers- oh I despise this lump, it has isolated me to these riotous feelings, and has even had my doctor preparing me for the worst.

24 hours. Actually more like 22.

Irony, right?  That I couldn’t wait 22hrs to be introduced personally to the ‘c’ word? That word- I can’t even type it right now. But its apparent discovery, had to be on my birthday?  Talk about a grand entrance of entrances.

Happy birthday to me, huh?!

I just feel so betrayed-by my body,by the timing of the universe. And there’s not a fucking thing I can I do, could have done, to change it.

Not even my words here can change it.

All I can do is move through my day, a shell of who I was, and await results. And fluctuate between angry sulking, and tearful confusion that ‘THIS’ is actually happening.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Betrayal

Lay me close by tender smiles

Leaving cares to clouded miles

Look away in in gallant sonder

Leaving paydays to wild wonder

Identifying with kissing crazy

Scamming life,  by being lazy

Engage by platinum crystal promises

Breathlessness from tightened bodices

Rattled dedication helplessly prioritizes

Being traded into winter’s franchises

Living the truth only makes me smarter

Disregard is the only death for a slithering martyr

Hate-ship

Gaslight my sunset days red

Striking matches wet with tears

While herding my goats

With a charming conniving smile

 

Passion burns bridges blue

Intensity of the highest hate

Frosting warm hearts

In condescending icy dew

 

Forgiveness is divine

While hate is the  unsung lullaby

Lived daily

By megalomaniacs

 

Burn me quicker

Than whispered prayers

Bitter berries ripe

Sow seeds of instability

 

Jealousy impersonates

Ventriloquist’s throw voices

Sabotaging bouquet’s all simultaneously

From corners of poisoned lips

 

Toxicity drowns lights rays

Sucking a noodle’s gravity from black-holes

My hope struggles to flicker SOS

To to the refugee’s of humanity

 

Colors smudge muddy, I see you for what you are

Prideful honor hunts vanity

But yet I remain mute

Tongue crippled by a cat’s confusion

 

My silence seen as frailty

Gives you grins of murmured mirth

I lick flesh wounds salty for strength

Beginning an underdog’s rebellion of stymies

 

Armored to know your beast

I once was loyal friend and cared

Recrimination unadulterated prepared

Vengeance of disregard will be an egocentrics hell

 

~m

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I feel… the worst!

We are all broken, that’s how the light gets in.” – Ernest Hemingway

Image result for we're all broken that's how the light gets in


I heard this quote first thing this morning on the radio as I was getting ready for work.  (Yes I’m one of 3 people who still listens to just the plain radio!) :p

It always has been a favorite of mine from Hemingway.

It reminds me, that being ‘broken’ doesn’t have to be a bad and an incapacitating thing in life.

Being broken is not an excuse to play victim from the hand that life has dealt anyone. (Of course this is just my opinion.)

Instead, I think being broken means we’re equipped and prepared to absorb energy’s healing light.

But since this morning, I have heard (and have read) this exact quote, or “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” ― Rumi  (exactly what Hemingway was saying) five six separate times. All from different people and from different medias.

I wasn’t looking for it.

Each time it has found me.

Now whether it was forefront in my mind and I’m sensitive from hearing it the first time this morning,  or there’s some scratch in the universes record playlist for me today… It seems that synchronicity is beating my brain door down to make me take note and putting it on repeat.

To add more backstory,  I started my day asking the universe for a sign on direction of how to ease my troubled John Bender heart. I’ve been at a loss on how to move forward and I’ve been feeling worn.

Some days I’m glad for the complete absorption of him. It feels right to still have him in my thoughts and heart. Other days I want to stop my stubborn heart from feeling, and be able to do. one. single. thing.  without him in my head or having my heart look for him.  I don’t think it’s too much to ask, is it?  I don’t mean to forget him.  I know that’s impossible.  But I mean, to discover a way on how to quiet the constant rattle of chains from his ghost? How do I hide those damn chains!?

I started this post to be positive. Truly, I did. But the more I write, them more I’m realizing it’s flowing more as anger. Not at him, but at myself. I have no better control of stopping my emotions and feelings for him now, as I did weeks ago. Time hasn’t lessened the pull, instead the incessant thinking has trapped me deeper in its tar of grey matter. The harder I’ve tried to pull myself back from feelings and thoughts of him, the stronger that Chinese finger trap on my heart, tightens it’s grip. How is that even possible? I’m trying to let go, so why can’t I!?

Cracks be damned, I have had enough light already. All I am accomplishing is creating more cracks. How do I fuse them back together to block it all out?

I’m being dramatic, I know. I just don’t know what, who or where the universe is trying to tell me to do.  I feel I’m stagnant and I ‘feel’. What a horrible thing to type, voice and experience- I feel.

Gah- Egads!

 

~m

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Entitlement

She was not responsible for anything,  not even her passive aggressive madness.

She dug herself into a soul burning hole of misery, and ruthlessly blamed the world.

Subconsciously she vowed to make the whole planetary existence live with her in the fires of hell that were her crazy head.

She tyrannized and ruled by cruelty to make others suffer more than she, so that she might find comfort that they hurt more than she felt.

Just because she could.

She was entitled.

Because she was the preachers wife.


Excerpt from my unpublished, unfinished horror novel that I’ll probably never write- The Madness of the Preacher’s Wife.

~m

Unwelcomed Sunday visitor

The beast of Bitterness knocked on my hidden backdoor first thing this morning. He knew the secret knock and knew I would be too sleepy to be thinking straight not to.  I was inquisitive but opened the door tentatively.

I was surprised to see him standing there, but not really. His brother Resentment stopped by last night for drinks and had hinted I was now on his radar. I just had not believed I would have been that important to someone like him to bother with a visit. But here was Bitterness,standing in front of me. He stood with confidence and this disarming cheeky grin. It was so beguiling in the sunlight.

“It’s going to be the perfect day, come outside and play?” He urge to me with in a deep sexy voice while locking his dark eyes on mine.

My internal warning bells sound, but I hesitate, ignoring. I would like to say my shilly-shallying is due to lack of caffeine and not being able to think straight at this ungodly hour. I would like to say, but I cannot.

I am tempted. I am tempted to join him, and I am liking his smile that is just for me. Despite my usual cautious self, I find I am being gently courted by this handsome devil and more, I am liking the idea to letting go of my control.

‘What would we play?’ I curiously ask.

His dark eyes go darker and his grin widens to show his sharp rotted teeth. How did I miss that before? It is as if in an instant, all light has dropped out of his eyes. Nothing reflects in them they just absorb.

He is showing me his true self and his intentions for me. He thinks I will be convinced seeing the darkness and pain. I quickly away in shame.

It was then that I spied the trophy black heart inside his front breast pocket. He proudly wears it on display as a boutonniere.  The front of his shirt is stained with the lost hope and despair of his former opponent and he wears it with pride. It advertises that he rarely loses.

I think he must of said something but I couldn’t be sure for certain. The spell I’d been under is now broken, I’m not sure of anything anymore. I am too focused on that stain and what it represents. I remember his reputation and more importantly I remember mine. This all is a ruse to trick me in to believing it is a stage of growth. He was here to give me the gift of bitterness, while I gave him my hope. I don’t want that. My hope is precious. It is all mine for now.

He asks again, ‘Do you want to play?’

But now I see the game. It’s an inappropriate game of emotionally destructive croquet.

Mom always lectured, ‘It’s all about the company you keep.’ She’s right. Don’t tell her.

I will keep my own company, and my own heart. I will keep my hope even if it is a lonely hope. Lonely but without bitterness.

I politely decline.

Bitterness gives me a genuine smile and a wave goodbye.

He may pay visit again one day, and I might play, for I am only human. But for now, I will hold my hope for a little while longer. Protecting it and my heart as my only treasures.

 

 

~m

World of the blahs

Image result for snoopy angry

 

Well it’s official. I have now entered into the world of the blahs.

I’m functional, and life is happening. But I am in ‘who the fuck cares anyway’ mode with everything. It’s a horrible place to be, but I know it’s natural progression of grief. There I said it. I’m in grief. No, Mr. Bender is not dead. But he might as well be with him gone. I have went on and on about TwinFlames and the push and pull and the running and chasing, and how I had to have faith and patience. But this, where I am right now, I don’t know its going to end. I don’t know that he will return? I’m such an idiot.

We had a conversation about this exact thing years ago on the distance between us and the what-ifs. Why didn’t we finish that conversation of, what if something happened? Well why didn’t we finish it beyond laughing it off as it would be just like one of us falling off the face of the planet? I know at the time it wasn’t a serious serious conversation, a just a what-if? But would I be better prepared today to handle the anger and hurt if we had? What-if we had addressed instead of believing in his ‘nothing is going to happen’ assurance. It was all I needed then. But what about now?

I allowed myself to get angry last night over the whole situation.  I’d been having moments this past week where anger was starting to surface, but I was still talking myself out of fully experiencing them.  Well until last night. I don’t think I was ready to move on from the denial stages before. I’ve had too many psychology classes I guess, and I’m stupidly applying the whole Kübler-Ross model of grief to this to try and make heads or tails and how to deal with my emotions. You know-  denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. The anger I associate with giving up, not the acceptance stage. Isn’t that kind of odd?  But I don’t give up, I will never give up hope for him. If that makes sense? I am just angry.  Not at him exactly, but there is anger at him. There is anger at uncontrollable circumstances of life that push in on people and their lives and cause chaos, and then there is the anger at myself for even feeling- anger, happiness, hope, helpless, stupid all wrapped up in to one, in the first place. Yes, I know I’m sounding like a whiny cry-baby brat not getting her way!  It just fuels the anger I am harboring.  There is much unfinished. I know that without a doubt. But how do you finish it alone? gaaahhh

I really am okay. I don’t want this to be read as that I’m falling apart. I’m not. It might be easier if I was? lol Its just the processing of all of the ’emotion’ part of things. Negative emotions especially, this is where I in the past in my life that I usually shut down and shut myself off from feeling. I am pushing through this time though. I have to, no matter how much my inner self screams in protest. I am determined.

Summary: Presently I feel like a 10 year old brat not getting her way and am having the biggest temper tantrum of her life and making it worse! I hate myself like this. lol

 

~m