Writing, composing poetry, taking photos, and creating art are the ways I make sense of my life. Today I have uploaded photos of some of the art I have created. I am an amateur, obviously, but it is a great form of therapy.
a captive prisoner in my mind
dreaming of what might have been
if the madness hadn’t taken hold
Life would be a lovely shade of normal
instead I live life in a kaleidoscope of swirls
colors that blend and shift with the wind
just when the colors begin to settle
into what I think will be normal
the colors tilt; the demons surge
my world spins out of control once again.
Vanilla World March 29, 2012
years ago i created a vanilla world
my safe zone to shelter me from the noise
But what was once warm and safe
now feels binding and tight, like a noose around my neck
The sameness of vanilla sickens me now
makes me want to splash my world with a color explosion
shake up the sameness that once felt so secure.
I know I shouldn’t let it bother me, but it does. Maybe because it really means something to me, I want it to mean something to him. We are partners, right? Through thick and thin, life and death, and all that jazz? Then why is it that I always feel like I give more in this relationship than he does?
Here’s the thing: I have a job interview today. In fact, in a few short hours. I have done the same job for 14 years, and I am ready for a change. It is in the same field, with no increase or decrease in pay, but it is more prestigious. Just to be considered for this position is exciting. When we talked it over, at first he just said no; I will have to drive a little farther and he said gas costs too much. After a discussion he told me to “do whatever I wanted.” He wasn’t angry, he just didn’t care. That was two days ago, and we haven’t talked about it since then.
I am hurt more than angry. I have been there many times for him: through the death of his mother and father, through his cancer, and through his stroke. I have held this family together when it became clear that my oldest daughter suffered from Bipolar Disorder and an eating disorder and my youngest announced she was gay. Every single event, big and small, I have been there. I have helped him deal with whatever life has thrown our way. We have had struggles, no doubt. But I have always felt like he was my best friend, the one who would always be there for me. Has that been a lie, all these years? He has trouble with emotions, like many men. He seldom says he loves me. He never compliments me. My life revolves around his schedule most of the time. Am I just waking up? Am I expecting too much? I don’t know anymore. All I know is that each one of my friends is pulling for me, wishing me luck, and seem really excited for me. Everyone except him.
The interview is at 3:15. I have my clothes picked out, my resume in order, and references in hand. I intend to get this job, or at least give my best effort. I will let you know how it goes. As for him, I will tell him about it…if he bothers to ask. After that, who knows? Maybe it is time I make other changes in my life.
Reflection January 28, 2012
When i stare into my mirror at my reflection
i ask myself what will you see?
will you see the physical me of our youth-
liquid brown eyes, smooth unblemished skin
pert breasts and forever legs…
Or perhaps you will see my young heart-
untarnished, loving, full of youthful dreams
undeterred by reality, hopeful for all that would come…
What happens if, when your eyes finally touch mine
for the first time in many years
you only see the physical me of today-
tired, lived-in skin, the added pounds of unhappy life
a middle age physique …
Will you turn away? Or will you look again
Will you see past the exterior and peer deeper, into my heart-
battered, beaten, and damaged from abuse
but a heart that is still beating
just for you.