I forgot how to be soft

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I had this “aha” moment today. It hit me hard, so hard that I was crying like a baby.

No man is going to fix you. No man is going to love a broken woman or spend time finding out why you are so broken. You need time to heal, discard the bad memories. They may not hurt you anymore but they changed you. They didn’t change you for the better either. You forgot who you used to be. You forgot the young woman who used to smile at silly jokes, who was able to take a joke as a joke. Your guards are up so high and the railings, in flames. You are not just guarded, but hard.

You are a hard woman, tough as nails, scraping knuckles that come knocking. Yes, you were hurt and the pain you carry inside comes as far as your childhood, from taunts by others who were mean and cruel to you. You learned to stand up for yourself, how to take a paunch and roll with a smile on your face. That was good, it protected the child that you were.

And love found you, with this one and that one who didn’t understand and so many who pulled the wool over your eyes, who stole your innocence, erased the tidbit of naïveté and good heart you were trying to hold on to. They used you. They played you. They blamed you. They made you feel small and stupid. They used you for your body and for your money as they lied, telling you they love you or worse, they blamed you for not being what they weren’t either or even tried to be.

You are a hard woman, so hard that you sense danger at every turn, always ready to defend your honor, integrity, pride, achievements, motherhood, children, work, decisions. You constantly play defense.

Why? Yes, no one ever stood up for you. No one ever fought for you or loved you enough to stand by you or stay to hold you. They just came to take and they took. They took everything you willingly gave because you cared, you loved too hard, too soon, too much, too deeply. They drained you of every inch of peace, and self-love. They took your trust away. They took your heart and your mind. Don’t let them take more and for longer than they stayed.

You stopped laughing from your toes, stopped managing your words, your tone. Is that the woman you want to be? Is this how you want your kids to remember you? You are filled with anger. The abuse that went too long because you were looking for feelings that did not exist, or could not comprehend that you were being used and played and mistreated and not appreciated, has left you so angry. At yourself. At the world. At these men. For your losses. For your innocence. For your heart. For your tears. For you. These men didn’t owe you protection. No one owes you protection.

But darling, don’t confuse strength with being hard. You have a heart encased in stone and do not mind how you speak. You speak truth like bullets and they do more harm than heal.

Don’t let those who hurt you win in the end! You may never be that woman again who took everyone at face value. You may never be the woman who could laugh from her toes to the tip of her hair but don’t be hard on those who open themselves to you, who show you their vulnerable selves. Be soft. Be feminine. Be kind. Be good, to everyone, even those who don’t do great things, who are unkind. Those things will happen sometimes. Not everyone is out to get you or harm you. Sometimes people make honest mistakes.

Be strong but flexible. Be wise but kind. Mind your tone. Mind your words. Everyone isn’t out to get you. Yes, you may know so many things but intent will always escape you. What shouldn’t, is the depth of who you are that should shine through in your interactions, in everything you do.

Remember today. Remember this moment. You hurt someone with your words. You may have been right but you didn’t have to do it this way. Others may have hurt you in the past and done things that crushed you wide shut, still, be soft. Don’t be a tool for pain as your abusers were, as those who cared not for you, for your heart were towards you. Don’t let them steal that side of you.

Please, be soft.

No one will care enough to help you mend, that’s your job, to patch your wounds as you heal. Don’t penalize them for it either. They don’t owe you that. And until you are fully healed and whole, you may hurt others in so doing. Don’t be that bundle of hurt.

Don’t lose yourself to someone who’s already gone! Mend!

“Do not fall in love with people like me
we will take you to
museums and parks
and monuments
and kiss you in every beautiful
place so that you can
never go back to them
without tasting us
like blood in your mouth.”
― Caitlyn Siehl

Irony is: this stands true whether they were good or bad to you if you’re an empath that is. Shalom!

Do you even matter? Does all this matter somehow?

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How can you be certain of what you don’t know?


 

 

You are of value.

It isn’t about how smart or rich or educated. It is not about where you live, what you do or who you know. You are of value. Take away all that you know and there is you. It isn’t about what you do or don’t do. It is about that breath in you.

Are we?

But then I wonder, if you had not a mind to think and the ability to do, would you still be of value? Is value in relation to others or things, the environment or is it inherent to our “being”? Am I even making sense? Yes? No?

So, that breath in you, whether you are brain dead, comatose, in a vegetative state makes you of value I would think, right? But, then again, that value is imputed, you do not, in its simplest form determine value for yourself. It is this idea that was passed on through humanity, whether by osmosis or from some realm unbeknownst to us that existence has value.

It is in that same light that many protect animals, and some adore plants or attribute a certain living power to plants, right?

We want to know we matter. Or, something wishes to teach us that we matter. Maybe. We just want to make existence meaningful, give life meaning. Afterall, what is the point of being when no one chose to be here! Some believe that we, breath, body and soul through certain chemical interactions came to be, thus by accident. I’m discussing humanity, life as we know it, the earth and everything around us. Here by accident. If we are here by accident, why do we hold so dear to being? Why are we obsessed with meaning, purpose, defining self and self-realization? Why do we want to make this, the accident matter?

So, many choose to believe, we were created. If we were, there’s a reason for that, a purpose. Be it, that the gods or a God was cruel to give us this “present”. Is it a gift, if it lacks value?

And others, in their discomfort with the issue of breath, spirit choose to focus on depth. They make their existence about purpose, a passion, giving back. Breath becomes about a presence for others.

Why are we here?
Why are you here?
Why do we matter?
Does life really matter?
Do we really matter?

Some choose to leave this place, on their own terms. We think they are cowards. But are they? Is it cowardly to run towards the unknown? It is scary to think of it. You may choose to end it all in hope of finding peace unknowing where you’ll end up. It’s the unknown scarier? At least the devils here you can battle them, fight them out but what of the devils beyond? What do they look like? What are the rules there? Can we truly end it? When we choose when to go, is it really the end of it all? As in sleep, where our mind disappears, gone the pain, the turmoil, the questions, the shame, the worries, the fear. Are they?

We don’t know, do we? We imagine and build these beliefs on hearsay and witnesses we have never met, until we convict ourselves of them into whatever after.

In the end, what is clear is we are here, wrapped in a cloud of mystery through which we will have to walk through. The journey won’t be the same, we are forced to be here. We are not gods at all, much as many seem to believe. We have a limited will, why we are truly nothing in the big picture, just god in the prism of this decrepit vessel.

So it be.

Tell me

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You want me to tell you a story
Speak of a woman I never met
Draw on kismet
Sing the glorious experiences in dalliances past

You want me
Call on memory, color it happy
Say “joy, joy, was he!”

As the pain
Buries, buries me
Without a veil, no tears in sight
I write my story

Not as fantasy, but a plea
For those who will be, like me
Before the years’ sorrow
Dawns on the ‘morrow

What of me, the wind of fate,
Proclaimed in fierce embrace!
And if ever chance did await
I ran, I ran apace!

Hear not such liberties!
Hollering am I to the breeze
I, exempt of all species
The lessons of them to seize

But just a girl
Sunrise upon my face
Grown in a twirl
Faith ever erased

Vile, Unkind, Eros was to me
His bows kept striking free
Joy and peace
And left me on my knees!

L. 06/16/14 13:51

“Tell me, do you want to be my afterthought?”

As hot as you are why are you always alone?

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He asked.

And I smiled. I have heard that before and even asked myself that same question after reading statements like “when you know your worth, you won’t mind eating alone or being alone.”

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Well, if I’m that “worthy”, why aren’t I valued? Am I valuing myself too much? Am I too “expensive” that many can’t afford me? Is knowing a reason to be alone?

There is a shade of truth and reality dripping from each thought. And yes, I do. I have learned how worthy I am. And it isn’t based on beauty, or money or even intelligence. It is based on how hard I worked on building my self-esteem, on how long it took me to mend my broken heart, on how difficult it is to learn to trust when you’ve been lied to and used.

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It never fails that many of my personal experiences differ from the norm. When others state and you shall receive, the energy you put out, is what will come back to you, that I, “Ms. anomaly” as I’ve come to perceive myself have never experienced such nonsense. Not that I mean to offend, because logically I understand that we are the sum of our experiences and what I find to be untrue, unproved is someone or so many others’ “truth”. I’m not disregarding the apotheosis of their existence but can certainly attest that it has not worked for me, not from lack of trying mind you. Somewhere within me is this little mad scientist who tests everything to assess the validity of things. I’ll blame it on my dad who always taught us that we should try to learn about everything, try almost everything so we can find our “truth”.

I’m not any more “worthy” than the next woman or prettier, heck! maybe smarter I’ve heard that enough times that it may be true, and cocky I’m certain. That has come with old age or as end result to self-esteem building. Possibly! Maybe I’m joking, I’m not sure, but it matters not certainly. The world is great at belittling us and a little pat on the back for myself won’t hurt anyone else, certainly!

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I digress as I often do. So, I’m sitting at home and this man, yes, another married one. Have I told y’all how lucky or is it unlucky I am at having more married men pursuing me than single ones? Well, many pretend to be single but are shacked up somewhere with some woman or baby mama they don’t want to let go of while playing footsie with me and many others I’m sure. The man sends me that text.

I accept the compliment but lack a succinct answer to that question. It is not complicated but too lengthy for a text and I hate texting as you know. I’m alone by choice and the consequence could be depressive at times but the alternative is much worse. I’ve tried too many times and have had to build trust in myself, in others for me to allow people so easily in my life. I’m much more conscious who I allow in my life. Too many whether friends or wanna be lovers play pretend and have no issue hurting me in the process of getting whatever they want out of our relationship whether it is sex or money, ego boosting and so on…People lie. I hate liars. I hate it so much that I fear I might kill someone if one other idiot comes into my life to use me or lie to me. I’m alone because I love my peace of mind. I want to be happy and despite all the research stating that having people in your life bring joy, I haven’t had that experience much. If your presence does not contribute to my joy but leaves me empty, confused, angry, crazed, apathetic, you’re a liability to my sanity. Do not make me feel less than I am!

I like my anonymity. I enjoy the not so intimate online encounters or the few at bookstores, the gymn or bars with positive, fun people who challenge my thought process, who are spiritual, who love to find their own paths. I love the misfits, the weirdos, the brilliant minds but online is where they stay. I can “visit” as I please and then hide in my corner. Having people around demands that I become emotionally attached. Many don’t deserve such attachment. That is who I am however. If we are friends, I’m attached and I care. I care if you call, come see me, how much time you spend with me, what we talk about, how close we are, how open you are with me. I can’t do half ass, fake ass, drive by anything. I love hard and I love deep, friends and lovers alike. Because I feel so deeply, because I get attached so honestly naively, I stay away.

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I’m scared of people because in my experience, closeness brings more harm than good. They are mean and unmindful. The majority of course. I don’t fear relationships. I fear fake ones.

I’ve worked too hard on forgiveness and letting go to open myself up to people so readily or maybe ever. The few, I have a total of maybe two live far from me and I’m good with that. That’s all the risk I’m willing to take.

Wow! I’m hot! I’ve been hearing that more often as well. I guess I age well! That should be next to smart from now on. :-)

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Peace, joy and love my darlings, wherever you are! Smooches!!!

That guy

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So I met this guy, doesn’t it always start that way? You meet someone new and suddenly so many possibilities! A life that seemed full appears to have been lacking, of him and here he comes to fill up this space you never even knew existed!

Well, we’ve been “FB” friends for years as he reminded me on that night we were walking. It felt like yesterday to me. A friend with whom I would debate issues with, read his updates. Yes! He’s brilliant. Yes, he knows it. And yes, yes, yes I love nerds, uhm, a brilliant mind. I love a man who can challenge me, a man who can teach me new avenues, a man with his own way of thinking, being, who is unapologetic but not too cocky, smart but humble. He is that. He tickles me every time I read him. He could be funny, abrupt, sweet and innocent in one breath. Sometimes he is an idiot for sure but he knows it and laughs at himself. He is dashing and knows it too, quite argumentative and stubborn. That man loves himself yet you don’t resent him for it because in no way does he make you feel any less than he is. He is unabashedly and unequivocally himself. He is weird and he knows it. And, he is sensitive. He makes me want to protect him and soothe his pain. But, he is strong. Only a mentally strong man, who has a clear understanding of his strengths and weaknesses can be so open about his pain, his emotions and what touches him. Opinionated is he, indeed!

I say all this but I’m not in love with him because I don’t know him. But, I do love him because of who he is. He is also a giving, kind and forgiving friend. He’s seen me at my worst, could have chewed me up and spat me out but gifted me hi shoulders and his heart. He wiped my tears and allowed me to be me: human. He is… He is so much more than this and I’m not even sure he knows it nor will I tell him. It is always best to appreciate a work of art from afar. Too many men can’t appreciate love. It must cost them something to be worth it. The must earn it, earn you to appreciate you. Right?

Here’s looking at you kid! Thanks for the walk in the moonlight!

46 years and I’m all alone

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She sat in that chair, all frail with grayish hair. She looks so frail, like a wet puppy dog without a home caught out in the rain and nowhere to hide. She was shorter than I am and I am short, maybe 5’4 if I feel happy but more so 5’3/4 the doctor like to say. I think I’m 5’2 but does it matter in the grand scheme of things. Alone is as alone gets. You’re not less alone at 6’8 than at 4’11.

Here she was, all decked out in pink. She had on pink pants, pink shirt, pink lipsticks and pink bag. But, as she mentioned, no pink shoes as they could not fit her right food that is not fully healed from a few months ago, after she hit her little toe.

“I’m all alone. I have no one. All my friends are gone. My daughter lives in California and she has her own life. It is only me and I feel all alone.” How do I soothe a woman who lost her life partner? What do I tell her? Where should I begin? Have you ever seen an elderly cry, face filled with sorrow and longing as if she wishes she could wind back time?

Here she was, all in pink, you’d think she was happy. But she was a bundle of fear and tears. Fear walks with us at the oddest of times amongst swarming faces but no one sees.

I wish I could have told her how long I have been alone, how I too, have no one to depend on, how I go to bed at night, covered in fears, about what tomorrow may bring and wear my pinks or reds in the morning.

She is 95 years old, old enough to know better but it doesn’t matter. She has lost the only person she has known most of her life, her husband of 46 years. At 95, she is learning how to be alone, to think about herself, make her own decisions, move as she pleases without having someone else in mind. And she is lost.

I know her sadness. I live her pain but maybe I am lucky. I learned how to be alone when I am still young. I let go of the idea of forever, having learned that nothing lasts. I couldn’t tell her, how they all leave us or we leave them, that we are made to move about singly. I wish I could have shared the freedom I gained in letting go. No attachments to things or people.

It is not that we shouldn’t mourn but how we must cherish what is, appreciate it as it is, as it stands. So, when the time comes and we must part, it isn’t the sorrow that tears us apart but the memories that bind us together, until the day we say our own goodbyes, forever.

 

here’s to love in the moment!!

 

Sinful bliss

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I’ve gotten used to being
spoon-fed with love
how your hands cup me in bed!
The unique soliloquy of silence,
muffled by the union of our breaths
a road long forgotten
brought into a journey that’s just begun
I’m being spoiled with love
and I like it
there seems to never be enough
thirsty for your every touch
as you fill my cup and I swallow you in
you are not much mine as I am to my skin
but we are one as you cover me whole
I’m going insane with wanting
more and more of a giving that’s unceasing
is this love?
I don’t want to know
I love the skin you’re in
your words that pull me to the brink
“vini m pale w”
as I sit, unmoving at your feet
I want it all
your whispers, your sadness
your laughter, your heart-speak
I want it all
and for the first time it’s okay
L. 01/25/14 0400