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Margaret Oct 2020
I am a therapist


I wanted to be an artist

Clay under my fingernails, in my curls, drying on my skin.
Filling up my moleskine
Occupying my thoughts, my dreams,
each moment of every day


Now, I listen to people's pain, their sorrow, their hurt.

5 years of grad school, fancy acronyms at the end of my name, they can call me doctor...some do. some insist. perhaps it makes them feel like I am more than just an imperfect human like they are.

My clients come to me with their pain, I see them, I hear them, I try, I try so hard to soothe them, make them feel worthy, make them feel good enough. make them feel loved. deserving of love.

Some days, being a psychologist provides so much meaning to my life, other days...other days I cry and punish myself for not pursuing art.

Why didn't I do it?
Why was I so scared?
Why did I let the **** talking from my parents and the judgements of my family keep me from doing what I loved?


Hey, you want to know how to make me cry instantaneously?
               Ask me about what I gave up to be where I am today.

        what I lost for the acronyms,
        what I lost for the title,
        what I lost for the salary,
        what I lost so my mom could tell people her daughter was a
                            "doctor" (not a real one even still)

Ask me what I lost.

Ask me how I lay awake at night, stare off into space, doing math in my mind, thinking, wondering, planning out how to grow my practice to make enough to rent a studio space, buy a kiln, and make art once again.

Ask me why I got a doctorate in psychology so all I could think about was how to make art again.

Ask me.
I dare you.

My own therapist just did and my make up smeared.
I think sobbed is the technical term.

Or perhaps, I just let all the feelings and sadness bleed out of me. every now and again they do

every now and again I let down my defenses, remove the distractions, and find the time to really think and reflect on what I lost.
what I gave up to allow myself to make money off of listening to people.
I allow myself to be used and profit from it.

JUST like my family uses me and takes up far too much space.

I provide care to others because it's my job, but it's also what I've always known how to do, what I was taught to do.

Taking care of others is ******* exhausting.
I love my job.
I hate my job.

Ya know what?

I never hated art.
I never did.
Art never took from me.
Clay never used me and spit me out or told me things like "I'm not getting anything from you" like my clients have told me.

clay Doesn't take.
clay only gave.
ceramics only ever gave.

WHY the **** did I not allow myself to take?
WHY did I create a life for myself where I am continuously giving and people are continuously taking?

I am so ******* empty and so ******* tired.

I just want to make art.

all i ever wanted was to make art.
#therapist #Artist #conflict #truth #Iamatherapist #But #Why #psychology #makingart #makers
Margaret Oct 2020
So this is love.
Wanting to be near it.
Shaking to touch,
To feel it against my skin.
I am in love with clay.
For Ceramics is the wood that fuels my fire.
I need it in my life.

Perhaps that is a void
One of many voids that cannot be filled by people
Where for art thou clay.
I miss thee so.
My heart yearns,
Calls out.
Can you hear me?

Return to me
Mother earth
Return to me

You goddess of dirt, mud, and all things kind
Come back to me.
The break has been painful, causing me to shrivel within
Splinters forming at the core of my being.
Water rushing in and freezing, expanding the cracks.
Without clay there.
How can I possibly mend the tear?

I need the sustenance for my soul
I am called to it.
It beckons to me.
And I am drawn to it
A slave really
Never in my life have I found a medium
That satisfies me the way clay has.
Can and Does.

Don’t leave me here
Alone to fend for myself in this dark world.
Can’t you hear me calling out?
The ghost of memories past call out your name
Your presence
Your spirit
Mother earth
Where have you gone
I miss you so
And never leave again
Margaret Sep 2020
How do I mend my relationship with my body?
How do I hate myself, less?

How could I?
How dare I?

The world doesn't.
It tells me all the reasons why I shouldn't.
                                                      ­                     I mustn't.

I must hate myself.

I must hate my body, that is what I deserve.
What my body deserves

Love is reserved for the thin.
                                the beautiful.

The beautiful.
I could never be beautiful.

It's a lie,
when they say it.
It's a lie.
when they say I am.

I am beautiful from the neck up.

but you'd never use that word,
                            designate it to my body.
                                                           ­  to the rest of me.

The rest of me should be tossed away.

Please sir, can I keep my head?
It's the only place I live, the only place I am allowed to be.

I am not allowed to be beautiful. not allowed to be thin.
that was not the hand I was dealt. not my lot in life.

I exist in the world with my shame exposed.

                                                       ­       On display.

Do you know how that feels?

No hiding.

No escaping.

No pretending.

I am fat.  
My body is fat.

and from first glance, you can see my unworthiness.

                                                  ­      My lack of deservedness

It's always there.
Margaret Sep 2020
My body
My body gets looked at, talked about, shamed.

My body doesn't fit comfortably in an airline seat and my body keeps getting fatter.

My body offends and disgusts you.

My body absorbs the blows.
       the shocks
              it reverberates

the ripples

Take in more food.


no one loves you.
no one ever could.

you're too FAT.
                   too hideous.


So, I abuse my body.
                           I hurt it.
         give it more. move it less.
It grows, my own self-loathing grows.

Like water to a plant.
         Your gaze and comments like the sun    

My body continues to sprout.
all aroundwards

Making it harder to fit.
                  harder to move.
                  harder to Be.

I wish they loved my body, maybe I could have too.

Maybe I could have too.
Margaret Apr 2020
My moods swing.
Sharp left,
sharp right,

This time has me losing my footing,
floating off,


you can swim.

This is hard.

Some days,
to survive.

Other days,


It will be okay,

You will be okay,

We will be okay,

you are a survivor.

We are survivors.
Coping with Covid
Margaret Feb 2014
To erase my mind of your memory
To alleviate the pain
To rid myself of your existence
What I'd give

I'd ****** you
But you'd still remain
Margaret Feb 2014
To tell you exactly, specifically, precisely why I love you
I'd have to reinvent an alphabet, create a language, learn to sign
The feeling that bubbles within when I look into your eyes cannot be captured or explained

I feel like the world stops moving
My breath struggles leaving my lungs
All my fears, worries, washed away

What is so powerful about loving you
is the way you love me in return
I feel confident, unstoppable, beautiful
You tell all the dark parts inside to quiet
whispering, no shouting to them:
I am worthy of love

To be worthy is all that I have ever wanted,
cried for in the middle of the night

Although there is still so much to learn about each other
Adventures to be had, moments to share
I am giddy with anticipation
your love gives me strength
Replenishes me
Fulfills me

I have yet to really write down how I feel about you until now
I've been afraid words would take our magic away
I'd wake up one morning and realize is was a mere dream

You steal my chapstick with your kisses
Put up with my sassy abrasive nature
You encourage me to work
The way you look at me sometimes gives me the courage to begin to look at myself the same way

With your arms tightly around me, our legs intertwined, I begin to imagine what heaven could actually be like

When I'm with you, I say I love you honestly
Eeach time is unique.
I realize how incredibly lucky I am to have you
to be loved by you
every syllable is as sincere as the last

You make it okay
All the bad, dark, sorrow filled places within me that sometimes consume my light.
You accept those places,
You make me forget they even exist
You make my light shine brighter

We joke about my ego
but since you have been in my life, I feel okay
Even when I'm not, I know I will be.
Granted, it's not solely what you do for me but what you let me do for you
You allow me to love you
Accepting my love
welcoming it like you would a long lost friend
you do not turn and hide
you embrace me with arms open wide

It's magical
It's what I've waited for my whole life

What I spent so much energy convincing myself I could never have

It's everything that I'd ever want and more
It's love
It's life
It's you
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