My mind's like a fishing net.
Capturing big important details.
But,
Letting the smaller day to day tasks
Slip between the holes in the cloth.
Some days,
The bad days I get angry.
I beat myself up,
And lose self confidence
And self assurance.
I lose the drive to be myself.
On other days.
The good days.
I laugh it off.
Forgive myself for my inadequacies.
And remember that I am only human.
All I can do is work to do better.
Improving my mind.
Adjusting my techniques to remember more.
To go from fishing net to,
Fish tank netting.
So fewer and fewer details fit between the holes.
But on all days,
Whether good or bad.
I try to remember,
Atleast at this point,
I have always remembered to put on my pants before leaving the house.

I grew up the daughter whose mother
Didn't want her.
The daughter of an alcoholic.
A melancholy teenager.
Whose mother told her daily,
Just how useless she was.
How much better she should be.
I grew up the daughter of the angry town drunk.
Whose words were like knives,
Directed at my jugular.
I grew up with the towns expectation,
I'd never go anywhere.
Doomed to follow in the haphazard footsteps of my mother.
I was raised to love the woman who told me,
I wasn't worth a ****.
I grew up taking care of the woman who never wanted me.
Putting out lit cigarettes that had fallen from her
Passed out fingers.
I grew up the daughter of a mother,
who never should have had children.
On more nights then not the target for her drunken rage.
I grew up the daughter of a woman who hated herself so much,
She made sure I hated myself too.
I grew up the daughter of a pitiful woman,
Who despite it all I still love.
I grew up in a life so damaged so early on and for so long,
I never thought I'd make it out alive.
But,
I grew up,
To be nothing like the woman who made me.

You can't hate yourself into loving yourself.
But I sure give it a solid try.
Trying desperately,
To hate my body into submission.
To torture it into compliance.
Years, months,
A lifetime
Of attempting to hate,
My body, my mind,
Myself.
Into a box I feel it should fit.
Tormenting myself when once again,
The unrealistic box
I try to shove myself in,
Doesn't fit.
You can't hate yourself into loving yourself.
But I'm proof,
You can give a valliant effort.

If I looked at a picture of you to long
The chasm in my chest opens.
And all the sadness
And emptiness inside that
I've hidden behind walls of
"I'm fines" and smiles
Flows out of me.
Coating me in tar like devastation.
Wrapping around my throat,
Until tears well up in my eyes,
And my throat feels raw from the effort,
Of holding in tears determined to be shed.
And I'm forced to look away.
Away from the man I've loved my whole life.
Away from the person who raised me.
My most treasured gift.
And the tar crushes my outsides
Until I cant breath on the inside.
Until my lungs feel as if
They've been crushed by
100 years worth of heartache.
And I'm reminded of the hole,
Filled with liquid black sadness
That has taken up my insides since you've gone.
Covered only be a membrane as thick
And strong as ash.
I try not to look at your pictures to long.
But,
I miss your face,
And the sound of your voice.
And yet,
My home is full of pictures of you,
of Us.
I spend most of my days,
With my eyes to the ground.
Just waiting,
For the tar.

As a mother,
I wish for you undying love.
A life that leads you to your highest calling.
A world that surrounds you
In such light you have no other
Option then to succeed with elegance.
To be gifted such loyalty,
From others you never question
Their intentions.
That life for you,
Is precious and deep.
And your love of life is unwavering.
As a realist,
I know your life will have hardships.
Times coated in darkness.
I only hope I raise you strong enough,
To withstand the storms.
I know you will be betrayed,
And led to question those around you.
Filling your perception with venom.
I only hope you never get,
So jaded you can't see the good,
That still exists.
You'll lose people and things.
You'll cry yourself to sleep,
On more then one occasion.
I only hope I've given you,
Enough self love to know,
You have to get up again,
After the tears have fallen,
And the pain has been felt.
You have to rise.
As a realistic mother,
I know your journey through life
Won't be easy.
And like the rest of us,
Life will test your strength.
I only hope that when it's all said,
And your life is done.
You can look back and know
You were given everything you needed to succeed.
And despite those that hurt you,
Bruised you, or betrayed you.
You were loved beyond measure.

Happy mother's day?
My mom taught me what alcohol tolerance was by 9.
That some nights if I didn't make dinner,
I wouldn't eat.
She taught me how to be a light sleeper,
By passing out drunk with lite cigarettes.
My mother taught me,
Boys font like fat girls, and you're def bigger then me.
She taught me how to hate myself,
But still love her.
My mother taught me how to be strong,
By making it the only way to survive her
Never ending drunken rampages.
She taught me early,
Not love,, not her daughter comes before the drink.
She taught me how to take care of her.
Make sure she got home from the bar at 1am,
Unscathed from the journey,
And still be up in time for school.
She taught me how to live off little sleep,
And even less attention.
Early she taught me,
I was no more special than coat hanger on the wall.
She taught me your mother's cigarette smoke,
Will cling to your clothing strongly,
You'd have to fold them with dryer sheets inside.
She taught me,
That I'd stay for her to make sure she was okay,
All the while destroying myself.
She taught me how to love someone,
Even when you don't like them.
She taught me how to be respectful,
Even when those people don't deserve respect.
Recently she taught me something else.
Sometimes those people you love,
Will never love you enough to not destroy you,
As they destroy themselves.
She taught me we all have a breaking point.
A point of no return.
And that sometimes it is better alone,
To be an orphan.
Rather then allow them the satisfaction in your torture.

My career is fulfilling.
While most of my life,
My being crumbles around me,
On a daily basis.
My career is my one solid ground.
Where I seem to exceed,
Even my own expectations.
Where even my own cynical eyes can see,
This was the career meant for me.
I thrive in the busy,
The erratic motions of the nurses life,
Blending it to fit my ADD mind.
Most of my being,
Is a mess of rocky foundations,
Anxiety driven let downs.
And the overall sense of worthlessness I have for myself.
My career, becoming a nurse.
All the time, and pain it took me,
To find get here I can clearly see.
This.  Being a nurse was meant for me.