Tag Archives: feelings

Wordless Wednesday— What I Lost Is In The Sky

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Find Something Small

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Find something small.
Stay with it.
Give it your heart.
Ache.
Resonate with it.
Tell it your secrets.
Feel the urge to leave.
Stay longer.
Trace its grooves with your fingertip.
Find its secret scent of earth and salt.
Allow your tear to drip onto its surface.
Laugh, but do not leave, not just yet.
Realize the terror in adoring something tiny and tender.
Whisper to it that which you know is certain.
Pull your hand back and continue to find the energy pulsating.
Find something small.
Give it your heart.
Stay there.
Ache.
Stay.
Do it again.
Do it over.
And over.
Again.

……..

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/restart/

small enough

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if i make myself
small enough,
a lowercase letter
curled tight, unassuming;
if i fold up parts
of me that are
long and large,
that flap and billow
hard and angry in the wind;
if i make my footprint
that of a sparrow;
if i suck in my gut
and allow the ocean to dry
into a teaspoon of salt, maybe
in my vanishing act,
love will atone
as i become inconspicuous,
pedestrian as a blink,
eyelash brushing cheek
but for a moment.
i’ll tuck chin to neck
and knees to chest,
furl fingers to fists,
become tiny, scarce.
if i make myself
small enough,
perhaps
i will fit
in you.

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written as part of the wordpress daily prompt, “Vanish”
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/vanish/

Weird Grief Mash Up– the Election and Our Collective, Historical Trauma

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Part of me feels an urge to write a ragey post about what this new world order means for my daughter and for all of the already disenfranchised people out there.

Yet, I find I’ve lost my voice.

I’m swinging back and forth between being optimistically hopeful and being numb.  When I try to find the middle ground in between those two things, I get anxiety.  I start to shake and start rambling about stupid shit that probably doesn’t make much sense to others.

Opening my mouth seems to lead to wrong words, so I’ve been keeping it shut.

Silence isn’t such a bad sound if you don’t have a lot to say that will improve it.  And there sure is a lot of chatter out there right now.

It takes me a long time to process and digest.

I also do not want to give the president elect the dignity of my righteous indignation.

I’m trying to be here with an open heart for others, and for that most part it feels good and right.  I’m listening.  Taking it all in.  I’m sitting with it.

Social media doesn’t really feel like a safe space for me right now, not only because of the constant exposure to this national trauma, but also because being exposed to the steady stream of affect is difficult for me to bear.

I guess I’m kind of regrouping.

Listening to Ani Difranco helps, and sort of puts things into perspective in a weird way.

The grief of this election is getting mashed up with the grief work I am doing regarding the loss of E., and that does not feel like a good thing.

I can’t go there.

I feel like I’ve finally got my head back together, and I do not want to even peek back into that dark hallway.

But it is an interesting thing to contemplate.  When we grieve for one thing, often times past losses, fears, and traumas get dredged up.  And I do think it is important to acknowledge and respect that for a lot of women, gays, people of different ethnicities and religions, that is what this election has brought about.  A collective trauma response that harkens back through centuries of institutional misogyny, racism, bigotry, greed, and hate.

A terrifying side of America has been given not only a voice, but a spotlight into which they have stepped for their warped performance.

I’ve seen a lot of posts of people telling others to stop being sore losers because their candidate didn’t win.  That feels unduly harsh to me.

That isn’t what this is about.  We are not stomping our feet and whining.

We are grieving. We are scared.  We do not feel safe.

And I say this as a white woman, armed to the teeth with education, career, and all of the privilege that my heterosexual marriage affords me.  I feel guilty when I hold all of the things that technically make me “safe” and consider the vulnerabilities of some of my dearest friends.  Do I even have a right to contribute to the chatter on this subject?

Processing all of this junk is going to take some time.  We need to ride this wave of emotion so we can refocus and get back to work.

Because there is work to be done.

Please let us be loving and supportive of one another as we go through this time.  Please let the sun continue to shine.  Please let the collective power of kindness and compassion be greater than anything we have ever seen.

That is my prayer.

We are on the brink of something important and revolutionary.

I guess that is all I have to say for right now.  But if you need me, or if there is anything I can do or say to help you feel safe, I’m here.  I’ll stand with you and I’ll hold your hand.

Love and momaste to you all.

Chocolate Babka

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Eating chocolate babka
over the sink with my fingers,
the day violated me,
pinched my every nerve raw
with the constant need of me
to be all things
to all people.
It doesn’t matter that
it is all in my head.
I yell at my daughter to go to bed,
and stain the dish towel
when I wipe the chocolate
and cinnamon pastry from my hands.