There are lots of things I hate About trauma Real honest to goodness trauma Like… How it automatically steals Future joy How it cripples effective communication How it makes trenches With one way signs in brains How it dictates patterns Of protection Of avoidance Of self-sabotage Of self- destruction Of hyper-vigilance How it demands boundaries…
The days are too short The minutes too few I wasted so many already On hurt feelings On tears of surrender On disliking myself On anger and frustration On wishes and hopes On sleep… on avoidance On escapism and heartache Precious golden seconds Carelessly spent On too many of the wrong Small things And not…
A crystal looking glass fed with ghosts Reflecting an image that hurts to see Faraway glances piercing the light Leaving waves of dark that bite at me Gasoline torches and crosses of wood Brought to exorcise the eyelet lace Yellowing and faded as figures stood Mouths with multiple tongues speak Demanding a life half lived,…
It’s strange to me Looking back now At the way I was I felt confident Shimmery Or like A disco ball Breathing colors On every surface I felt magical Like a unicorn With pretty clothes And glittery makeup Totally deluded By my own Optical illusions
I don’t know what eliminates wrinkles or what food plan works best for what body type. I don’t know how to do math problems in my head, how to use apostrophes correctly, or what the heck a semicolon is for. I can’t tell you where Kentucky is or where most of the other 50 states…
Depression is like A taped up box Easy to open Packed full of Past experience Past mistakes Come sift through Remember this? You should be ashamed Depression is like A spooky Cabinet With no lock Fragile China feelings Ugly handmade dolls Mascara black eyes You should be embarrassed Depression is like An old jewelry box…
Did I do it right? Am I doing it right? How many times do I ask myself or God this question everyday? My perspective changes. My opinion changes. There is no right or wrong there is only what I did and what I will do. I question my choices hoping to get wiser and smarter…
I realized recently much of my anxiety was attached to a feeling that I needed to be perfect. Act perfectly in all things. I know logically there is no such thing. I mean I KNOW that. But I don’t think my heart ever got that message. I must execute plans perfectly. I must do exactly…
Zumba class used to be my happy place. Several times a week I would walk into this class and I’d forget about all the hard things in my life. Fun music, people sweating and laughing. We literally looked like we had taken a group shower when we were done. It felt so good. The instructor…
I found calm Steady breath A place where The quiet feels… Composed But what if I’m in the eye Of the storm? What if chaos Has just settled Like sand does Waiting for the heat To clash with the cold Inside my brain What if his screams What if his anger What if their words…
HASTYWORDS 