Strength?

Is tolerance strength?
If, over time, you learn to tolerate something, does that classify as strength against it?
I'm not quite sure if they are one in the same really.
I'm more apt to believe that after years of the same bullshit-
you become numb to it.
Is it strength to turn the other cheek and let the pain wash over you?

In a way I sense this longing for an end.
That perhaps when the river floods, this time it will not recede.
The water will overflow, filling each crevasse.
Until the pressure is so great that the tiniest cracks become great fissures-
and the whole will become diffused.

Wicked Days

A sensation of trying to breathe underwater.
That is one of the best descriptions of my depression.
Weight settles into your chest, fire billows through your lungs-
you struggle, clawing desperately toward an unseen point in time.
You know that if you give up the weight will pull you into the darkness,
the fire within will be an all consuming self loathing that simply eats you alive.

So you struggle. You keep taking gaping mouthfuls of water.

Praying that one day-
you will find air.

Lonely Travel

Scraps of clothing and a new suitcase.
The first steps to the trip are laid afore the girl.
A wistful smile plays her lips but the eyes, sir the eyes are hollow.

Too long this treachery has circled-
a buzzard in the hot sun of a dusted landscape.
She chokes on, too dry for tears.

Cookie Skin

3am approaches fast and here I sit.
Tomorrow morning I will pack bags but tonight-
tonight is for cookies.
I could almost call it cookie hell.
Only 4 different batches but they took me all day (and night!) to achieve.

I've been in my kitchen a lot today.
I've been yawning a great deal since 1:45 and now I'm just praying I don't fall face first into my oven.
I've easily healed some weird and intense burns, but nothing that intense.
My mind creates an image like dripping candle wax and I can't help but shudder.

Did I really think I was going to make 6 different kinds of cookies today?
At some point, yes, I think I had convinced myself of that.
Pfft. Just call me Patsy.

Knowing

Sometimes you just don't know.
People will ask questions, things you should easily be able to answer, but nothing comes.
Your brow furrows and the gears spin wildly, but nothing comes.

Mostly these questions are personal.
Requiring that you look deep within, scratch your moral fiber, descend into your sinfulness-
and figure it out. Tout de suite!

"I can't answer you right now" should be a valid response, completely acceptable.
But it never is.
They always want to know, to fill the gap in their mind space with your vitals.

Sometimes I just want to scream and hide behind my arms, shielding the agony in my eyes.
"Don't you think I want to know! Don't you think it matters to me!"
But they don't care ... and they couldn't if they tried.
Not in the way you need them to.

Silver Bells

27 years brought my first gray hair.
I wasn't sure when to expect it really. Or them. It could have been droves.
It's been there for some time now.
Nearly six inches long, with two added inches of my natural brunette for records sake.

Some would be flabbergasted.
"How could this have happened to me?!"
Others might be ashamed.
"I have to cover this up! No one can know!"
And there is always denial ...
"I'm too young! Woe! Youthful, pre-thirties woe!"

I, on the other hand, am proud.
You see, I earned this.
Years of my own torturous thoughts paved the way for this single silvery showing of persistence.

In another 27 years ... I better at least have two.

*laughs*

It Was Cold When I Woke

I am forgetful. My memory is akin to a 20 year old often used cheesecloth.
The more I have to do, the more I forget.
The more responsibility I take on, the less likely I am to seem responsible.

I am late. All the time and for just about everything, I am late.
Need me at 4:00pm? I will be there at 4:05.
Make it a point to tell me that the world will implode if I am not there at exactly 4:00pm?
The universe conspires against me and I shall arrive no earlier than 4:15.

Thus, when I manage to get things done correctly, and on time-
I have a sense of satisfaction that can only be trumped by coitus.
Deadly serious.

High School Influenza

Hunger pains and a Texas sized appetite have got nothing on the Flu.
*sniffles*
For the past few days I've been a bundle of sniffles, coughs, and stomach pains. I want everything I eat to taste the way I know it should, but it all ends up tasting like the cafeteria 'goodies' of my high school days. I know, yummy. Maybe this means I should go back to a steady diet of Cheez-It's and Cherry Pepsi.
Why does everyone believe that the years we spent in high school are our glory days? Folks spend the rest of their lives wanting to get together at ten year intervals to meet up with people they haven't spoken to in exactly that long so that they can re-hash all of the most meaningful moments between 14 and 18 years of age. Is it because people truly believe that who they were in high school is the basis of who they will be for the rest of their lives?
Well pardon me John Hughes- but I disagree.

They Are Loved

Someone that I greatly respect is going through an inexplicably rough time in his life.
I cannot help but wish that there was something I could do. Something I could say.
I find myself wiping away tears, praying that something positive happens.

It doesn't take a lifetime of knowing someone to love them.
My friend and his family- they are loved, with all of the warmth and friendship that my family has to offer.

In their time of suffering, I pray for peace.

-Lisa

A prayer I needed to find

Today I felt I should hunt down something. Something to say in my darkest moments, a mantra, a reminder- anything. What I found spoke to me.

"St. Jude, friend to those in need, I am weary from grief, without joy, without hope, struggling to find the light I know is in my soul. I turn to you, my most trusted intercessor. Take away this emptiness and the pain of my broken heart. In your compassion, help my tears to lead me to a place of peace in my heart. Too long have I forgotten the goodness of God’s world. Heal me. I yearn to feel light, to feel joy. Envelop me in brightness, and do not hold back. And I promise, if I receive these gifts, I will share them always in your name. Amen."

The recent re-entering of spirituality into my life is helping me find peace. 

Song and Dance

I see that I am awake.
I wonder why.
There isn't much going on here.
It's all the same, everyday.
And I feel lost.
This place is empty.

The colors are all dull.
Lackluster whispers.
The same old song and dance.
Time could crawl much slower.
And I would sleep.
Chase the pain away.

- L. Treece 

Off the Top of My Head

- Singing
- Writing
- Baking and Cooking

I want to add many more things to that list. And I want to be doing all these things, often and in great abundance. There are things in life that are so simple, so easy to do- you just DO them- and yet I feel as if they are millions of miles from my grasp, they seem like dreams beyond any horizon I can see.

- Painting
- Sketching
- Hiking/Walking
- Swimming
- Playing guitar
- Playing piano
- Parkour

I'm starting to develop a bucket list. There is no telling how long one person has to truly live ... I know that I need to make the most of mine. I can't let depression lead me around on a choke chain. I need to do more than survive, I need to live.

- Have book of poetry published
- Have a novel published
- Make great comics with my husband
- Create a record with my husband
- Visit Ireland
- Create art that I love

And really, that's just off the top of my head.

Reminder - A Poem

Don't needlessly compare yourself to others
Be true to what you want and wish
Compromise is not giving yourself up,
the most important thing to remember in life is to be happy with yourself.

Chase your dreams
No matter how far fetched they may seem
no matter how old you are
or how young.

Remind the people you love- that you love them.
Life is too short to keep love to yourself.

Remember that life is short.
Celebrate every moment. Don't fear its passing.

Tragedy strikes.
Death comes.
Don't forget to live.

27

1:23AM brings 27 years.

Earlier tonight I received my first short story rejection letter. It was quite kind and easier to deal with than I imagined.

From here I push on. Pursue what I love. Never give up. Never surrender. ;)

Every few months I try to figure out who I am, and what I should do with my life.
I've decided to stop that. I can't keep wrangling myself into a pen that I'm unhappy with.
I can be interested in everything, pursue anything, be great at whatever and fail wherever.

Its okay.


I'm going to be okay.

Real World

Falling into the world of a story you're creating is a beautiful thing.

Coming back to the real world ... not always so beautiful.


Don't get me wrong. My family is amazing, I'm lucky to have a roof over my head and food in my house, etc. etc. What I'm talking about is that moment when everything snaps back into place. Like getting hit in the eye with rubber band. A feeling that is so startling, its like a physical assault.

So today is for dishes. For sweeping and folding laundry. For catching up on a week of school.
For trying to keep my sanity.

Can I have a nap?

12 hours

Come midnight tonight there is a short story that must be finished, edited, and submitted properly.
At this point I have less than 12 hours.

I am filled with dread.

Long winded and nearly explosive dread.

I am doubting.

Abilities, thought processes, emotions.

Less than 12 hours.

Right?

Asking for help always feels weak.
You want someone to understand ... the end up giving you all of these excuses as to why you shouldn't feel the way that you do.
That doesn't help. It only makes you feel like a failure.
Why can't you do it right?
Just shut off that negativity and come with the rest of us to the rainbow pony parade!

Yeah.
Go blow.

Oh, it will get better over time. You just need to learn to cope.

I've been learning to cope for 15 fucking years! Tell me, when does it get better!?

When does it get any more easy?

Sometimes I cry.
For no apparent reason.
And someone will ask- "Are you okay?"
And I want to shout at them, I want to scream.
"This is just a shred of what I'm really feeling! These few tears barely scratch the fucking surface of definitely not okay!"

But that would make me the asshole.
After all, they were only trying to help.
Right?

Horrible Habits

It has been a habit of mine, for as long as I can remember, to set goals and never bring them to fruition.
Life gets in the way, yes I understand ... that is also the easiest excuse I can think of.
"Ah well, life just got in the way of me making something of myself. No big deal."

But it is a big deal.

I know this isn't okay.
I don't know how to fix it.

I have these moments of drive, where anything is possible and I am a powerhouse- indestructible.
Followed quickly by days (sometimes weeks) of debilitating nothingness.

I struggle to wake, I struggle to sleep. I can't stop eating, I want nothing to eat for days.
It hurts to be awake and have to live ... but what is the alternative?
And who the hell am I to look life in the eye and scoff at what I've been given?

I know something is wrong.
I don't know how to fix it.

Sometimes my chest feels so tight that I start to wonder, "Is this it? Is this the final moment?"
My body just feels tired, weighed down ... and more often than not, empty.
I feel empty.

I am envious of people who don't have this.
Green with writhing envy that makes me physically ill.

Normalcy is overrated. Some say, "Normal does not exist".
But I've got to believe that there is something better than this.

I just don't know how to fix it.