it comes in wave
more so than
anything i've put in my system
a brutal break
incapacitated by addiction
time went by
you went your way i went mine
but life don't let
you off so easy
fighting that tingle in the spine
thought myself further than i am
i'll avoid meeting
end hiatus greetings
but i'm only humbly a man
stronger now than ever
mind and soul
in confidences i now stand
you'll float on in
just like i've dreamt
but it's me who'll have the upper hand
Throwing up will make you beautiful
After all, beauty is pain
Waxing every square inch of your human body
Squeezing into those Spanx to hide your smallest flaws
Your daughter, she needs help with her eating disorder
There's no beauty in that. Strictly pain.
Or telling your 20 year old best friend everyday for 6 years a size 3 isn't anywhere neat fat
Having the same conversation with a 10 year old girl: is that any more beautiful? No.
Forget that beauty isn't painful
A mother experiencing excruciating pain yet forgetting it all when she holds her child for the first time
Death of a man with terminal illness--all the pain built up to the soul finally at ease
The battered woman seeking courage to break free and begin new life
Actual emphasis to "beauty is pain" is one who pushes through the undesired struggle-- beauty is the reward
Remember that beauty can be painful
What's beautiful in your life?
Waiting for the train come
It was peak time
The train station was packed like sardine packed
Full of workers hoping to go back home to their families
All the sweats they have given out on that day
Was it all worth it?
Standing besides the railway
If i jump will anyone help me?
Will anyone pull me out of the railway?
Small lights catched my eye 1km away
Oh there's the train coming!
Everyone was colliding and pushing each other to get into the train
Because you don't want to miss the train
It was near dawn, everyone wants to go back before dawn approaches
They would do anything to get in
I was bumped into a guy, he was sweet
And then things get so awkward in the train
I was seating infront of the guy
It was one of the moments I would like to escape from
But not long after that, we hopped off at our station
Heading back home
And until now, I could never forget his face :)
He was for long on the river sailing since sunrise
When under afternoon clouds the hamlet caught his eyes
Wearied by the sojourn to that land a faraway call
The green beckoned to rest his oars for a leisurely stroll.
He sat under a banyan to heal his limbs of pain
Darker grew the clouds the winds hinted rain
His heart too was aching the heart of a lonely man
For he had left behind his sweetheart his beloved woman.
It’s not known if clouds swelled in his dreamy eyes
His mind was too obsessed for the Empire’s rise
There he stood on the riverbank an alien on another’s soil
That he must till to build a kingdom paying with sweat of toil.
He remembered his three children their skin’s blended tan
Their rustic eyes reflecting their mother the one his woman
He reminisced under banyan shade how he fell in love with her
Only if he were a little late she would’ve been burned at the pyre.
The man loved that sleepy hamlet built there a factory
The trade post became a city earned place in history
The river still meanders laden with the tears of pity
That swelled in his eyes for the woman he saved from suttee.
He saved an Indian woman from Suttee, married her and had three children with her.
Each night the little girl builds a fortress of pillows and blankets to protect herself from the irrational fear and the very real nightmares that overtake her in the darkness. She forgot to build that fortress last Friday night...and left the extra pillows on the floor and the bear she sleeps with in a chair. The above facts were brought to my attention the next night as the hus was heading to bed. As typical, he exits the man-cave and stands in the hallway and announces that he is going to bed (as though I'm unable to see him?). Then he says, as he says every night, "Come hold me?"...knowing that I will say, "Sure, I'll be right there." but 'right' really represents several hours... Last night there was a slight deviation to our nightly verbal exchange as he said, "Last night you didn't build your fortress and I don't know what was going on but I woke up at 2:30am and I had like 6 inches of space in the bed because you were so close to me." Hum...I guess I took the "come hold me" phrase seriously on Friday night.
I don't know why the deviation from my normal set up...but I do know that there is this desperate little girl inside of me who longs to be held, but other, more 'grown-up' parts inside of me who know we're supposed to be beyond that now and it will never be - nor will they ever allow that to happen.
I also know that a lot of the time it's difficult for the hus to understand where I am and what's going on with me...I can't even begin to explain it to him when I often don't know myself. So I tend to air on the side of "quietness" in my communication with him too. In other words, I don't often take off the mask in front of him, or ask him for help. Part of me feels bad for him…I recognize that's it's difficult to have a relationship with someone with my history, and I can be more than a handful (understatement...understatement...) and it isn’t easy for anyone to stick with 'us' through the bad times...the really bad times. I get that - and not just with him.
That's why I pull away instead. It's difficult enough for me to deal with all the different and conflicting parts of me - how can I expect anyone else to do it with me? The one who aches for reassurance and care, the one who sabotages any attempts to act like a sophisticated adult with her fears and desperate and confusing needs. The one who aches with the desire to be loved, saved, fixed…on a never-ending search for something to make her feel whole, safe, "unmolested". The sophisticated adult…the professional cold grown woman who hides her insecurity by pretending to be self-confident...some even call her 'stuck-up'. The party girl who can only react to situations with humor and laughter even in the most inappropriate times. The little girl who desperately wants to be held safely by someone who will not hurt her.
How can anyone else get through to all of that? I can't do it and believe me, I've tried.
Today, the sophisticated adult is holding steady at the helm...on 'therapy' day, which typically means she will act as though everything is great with the world, even though inside, everyone else is screaming and suffocating under the weight of the fear...sadness...anger...shame... hopelessness. And it is virtually impossible to break through that exterior because she holds the key to lock others out...particularly the therapist because she needs no one, and that holds double for someone who told the 5 year old to "deal with it" because she is busy...and "make another choice since it's after 10 and the closed sign is out"...after being there way after 10 for the little girl for 2 years.
And then, late tonight, when the wind howls, and the snow begins to fall, and the coldness seeps inside of this body and weaves its way up my spine, the desperation will begin, followed by the crying...then the overwhelming fear and hopelessness that will be unrelenting and she will be inconsolable until she cries herself into a restless sleep and wakes up tomorrow with a migraine and swollen red eyes.
You might be thinking, "Nita, if you KNOW that's what's going to happen then can't you stop it? Can't you make a different choice and let the therapist try to help you?"
I don't know why it all seems so out of my control - I can watch it play out but I cannot intervene or stop it. I wish I could...she won't let me use the key either to unlock the door.
Rules, policies and conflicts imprison you.
Protest and righteousness freed you.
In America, we called it segregation.
Twisted words of countries like South Africa called it Apartheid.
Separation of the races accepted as legal at a certain time.
What about injustice that makes ANY race feels correct?
But like that old saying goes, things changes with time.
Which Nelson Mandela you eventually saw within your life time.
It's always those that faced the harshness of trouble that's the most forgiving.
And many of times, it's the innocent prisoner.
While holding onto no grudge.
You stood strong against those that refused to change.
In America that's still a familiar ring.
Ghandi, King and others fought with words.
Similar to the qualities and traits of our Lord Jesus.
It's always the peacekeepers that showcase the hate.
While the supporters of wars stay quiet silently supporting the crime.
So, so long Nelson.
God's waiting for your soul.
You serve your purpose.
You serve your goal.
Nelson Mandela, son of the motherland.
You will always be remember, as a good man.
I could stare at this notepad for hours and still have no idea what to say, what to write down and spill with ink. There are so many words, phrases and lovesick requests floating around inside of my head but none feel adequate enough, for you.
What would happen if I let it all out? All that my tongue has struggled to repress and hold back, what if I released it and allowed it all to spill out of my mouth? Would you crumble under the weight of these heavy words I’ve kept to myself?
Would you be crushed under lines like, “I lied when I said I didn’t blame you for this, it’s your fault I turned out the way I did.” or confessions such as, “I wish she didn’t exist, wish you’d stop loving her, I wish you never did.” I wonder if you’ll still be standing when these words fall from my mouth uncontrollably, “I loved you so long and so secretly but now I’m left feeling bitter and violently angry. I want to hurt you, I want to hurt you like you’ve hurt me.” I wonder if your legs would give out once I’ve let all that out, if you don't fall to the ground than you’re stronger than I thought you were,
Still these secrets pour out of me like
pathetic lovesick word vomit.
“I wish I never met you, you ruined my life and for that I won’t forgive you.” My life isn’t better for knowing you and I lied when I said you made me a better person. I’ll smile as I watch your knees buckle, as the guilt crushes you and you’re just as broken as I am. I'll watch until it becomes painful to breathe with that pressure on your chest and I'll smile as it caves in with every single breath.
I wonder if you'll finally start to feel some regret.
All my love letters have turned into seething pages full of bitter sentences and words lacking tender emotions, they’re as cold and black as the ink they were written in. Those letters are just as cold as this heart which pains me still, it feels as frozen as the one you refused to give.
I have no time left for this, not even for one more, “I love you ---.” Sorry honey, if you throw me a syringe I’ll lie and fake it some more while injecting this poison which flows straight to my heart. I’ll smile and tell you all that I once meant and now don't, you should have listened each time I said them before.
Go ahead, grab your spoon--
Baby, now it's your turn.