its summertime. vacation bible school week has just ended. all of our little ones have performed their last act until next summer. my sweet little boy nestled amongst all the other little faces and hands as they show their very proud parents how they are learning to worship God. he tends to hold back a bit; my little boy. but, somehow he is always surrounded by others who are willing to look out for him. showing him the way. reminding him of the motions for a certain song. this time he worked really hard to keep up with the lyrics and all of the motions. a couple of times i caught that look he has about him when he is feeling anxious. but we always sit where he can see us. mama and daddy are always there to cheer him on. reassuring. showing confidence that i know he isn't feeling. however, when all is said, or sung, and done, he smiles for the pictures as he relaxes into who he is.
my sweet little boy reaches for the expected hugs and kisses. and i know he won't be long in wanting more of them. he squeezes tight like a competition on who hugs the strongest. he's a funny little guy. he turns 6 on the 4th of july. his daddy and i watch while he plays among his friends from sunday school and church. he's so little in comparison. we look at each other and smile. we never fail to comment on that fact. but he doesn't seem to mind. everybody knows him. we are so blessed to have a church home and family to love him right along with us.
in the morning hours he wakes and comes to get me to watch cartoons only to fall back asleep when he climbs up into my bed. i have another hour or two before he wakes again. the sweetness that comes from a child when first he wakes. sleepy eyes, yawns and stretching. and the sound of his soft breath. slumber calls him back. our days blessedly easy once we do get started. mornings are full of sweets for breakfast and spongebob piled up on the sofas with the dogs and cat. its comfortable.
our days are filled with what we want while waiting for daddy to come home from work. we take our days one at a time and choose to be messy or maybe not. toys and books and blankets and games line up straight thru the middle of the house. a game of hide and seek when i least expect it. he's so funny. his little body fits into the smallest of spaces; helped along by pillows and toys scattered willy nilly. and he even helps with the laundry if i decide it needs to be done. and i hear him ask "can i have a hug?" of course! and here's another until the next time...
winding down the evening with our favorite shows, books, or games we may have another snack or two. but thats ok. no need to rush and worry during summer vacation. while daddy may have to succumb to his work-a-day slumber my little boy and i play games sitting side by side on into the night. finally realizing my sweet child is fighting the sleep that calls to him too, he still wiggles and burrows until he settles into my lap. and, like always, landing in the same position he drops off to sleep. he is so used to being held and cuddled i find myself combing thru his hair with my fingers long after he is sound asleep. there is no hurry to put him to bed. i'm so glad.
i am the sentinal. the night's guard of that soft sweet boy yet to be carried off to his own bed. i think back over the years it took for us to get him to sleep in that bed. like sleeping with a wind mill as his father and i clung to the edges of our mattress to make room. i knew in his first week of life he would claim a large portion of room for sleeping. all arms and legs going at once. i was so tired in those early days. strange how those 4 long years seem to have flown by.
and now, as i rise to carry this soft sweet child to his bed, he sighs. the sweetness of that soft breath reassuring me that he is well. he is safe. all is calm. the night is quiet. the sounds of our home comforts him. he insists that his lamp be left on thru the night. and thru the night i hear his dreams. the monitor carrying those sweet sighs into my room. into my slumber. my child's soft breath.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
the cost of a yard sale
my sister and her husband bought a new home. very nice. she had hers and he had his. so they commenced to having "a yard sale." they commenced. "they." right. well, "they" really meant "we are having a yard sale if you want to contribute...." right. "contribute." "you."
so we did. contribute. "we contributed." "we." lol!!! translation: mom, dad, sister, brother-in-law, nephew... bring your stuff to our house so you can help us get rid of our stuff. you know? help us price everything. help us sell. right.
ok. the "yard" sale was actually "in" the house. and since it was hot as 3 hells (pardon the expression) outside "we" were grateful my sister runs her air conditioning around 58 degrees:) that part was great. i mean really. it was. however...
prior to the yard sale they were moving bit by bit their acquired belongings into their new home every evening after work. understandable. its hard work. but this is what i don't understand...
his washer and dryer from his house, which is rented by the way, was sitting on the front porch of her house, where they had been living up to this point. so, 3 days later she realizes there is no washer and dryer sitting on the front porch. he had no idea they were missing. so she called him at work and asked what he did with them. he didn't do anything with them. obviously somebody was doing some late night shopping. oddly enough my brother-in-law didn't really care. ok. well, not really. but, ok. so we have the yard sale.
its very odd having a yard sale inside your house. all sorts of folks coming and going. all sorts of stuff being picked up, looked at, tried on, put back, changing their minds, and all sorts of bartering. i, myself, was sweating it just praying someone would buy my elliptical. did i spell that right? well, anyway. and, of course, you have to consider who's is who's or what's and keep up with the money. no problem. between the three of us (mom, sister, me) we pretty much knew who had who's money and when. the men were just there for the heavy lifting. and i finally had a taker on my big ticket item. and i can say with no apologies that i was pretty much done once it was toted off. the rest was left for donation... "donation."
after all was said and done "the salvation army" was to show up to pick up, pack up, and drive away with the leftovers. my sister had to leave ahead of everyone else because somebody decided to throw her a "house warming party" at her house that very same evening. so as she is counting her money, grabbing whatever she needed to take with her, leaving us behind to wait for whoever to show up, but never did mind you, she tells her husband "don't leave the fridge sitting in the front yard... move it around back." this she repeats 3 times. now i know i watched as her husband and my daddy moved that fridge from the back of the house to the front of the house on a set of "hand trucks" as they called it, leaving it sitting pricariously in the middle of the front yard. and it wasn't long before we realized that "the salvation army" was not showing up as was scheduled. so in the process of gathering our personal belongings, such as purses, items we chose to keep from said yard sale, my kid, and other odds and ends, we remind him, her husband, not to leave the fridge in the front yard. to which he asks "why?" what? as my parents and i look at him in disbelief. as my dad grabs that strange gray tape, that all men seem to have, we all at once tell him every reason why not to leave it... "a child could get trapped in it... "it could hurt someone if it falls over... "you could get sued if... "blah, blah, blah." he answers with a resounding "well, they would be trespassing on my property so it will be their fault if..." and we all just stood there like time seems to stand still in moments like these.
so, daddy puts the tape down, i grab my kid, mom gets in the car, i drive away totally thrilled with having a bit of spending money, and no one looks back after two long days of pricing and selling. the "yard sale" was over! yaaaaaaaaaay.....!!!!!!!!
like i said, this is what i don't understand.... somebody stole the fridge conveniently on a set of hand trucks and he didn't care but we did. why?
so we did. contribute. "we contributed." "we." lol!!! translation: mom, dad, sister, brother-in-law, nephew... bring your stuff to our house so you can help us get rid of our stuff. you know? help us price everything. help us sell. right.
ok. the "yard" sale was actually "in" the house. and since it was hot as 3 hells (pardon the expression) outside "we" were grateful my sister runs her air conditioning around 58 degrees:) that part was great. i mean really. it was. however...
prior to the yard sale they were moving bit by bit their acquired belongings into their new home every evening after work. understandable. its hard work. but this is what i don't understand...
his washer and dryer from his house, which is rented by the way, was sitting on the front porch of her house, where they had been living up to this point. so, 3 days later she realizes there is no washer and dryer sitting on the front porch. he had no idea they were missing. so she called him at work and asked what he did with them. he didn't do anything with them. obviously somebody was doing some late night shopping. oddly enough my brother-in-law didn't really care. ok. well, not really. but, ok. so we have the yard sale.
its very odd having a yard sale inside your house. all sorts of folks coming and going. all sorts of stuff being picked up, looked at, tried on, put back, changing their minds, and all sorts of bartering. i, myself, was sweating it just praying someone would buy my elliptical. did i spell that right? well, anyway. and, of course, you have to consider who's is who's or what's and keep up with the money. no problem. between the three of us (mom, sister, me) we pretty much knew who had who's money and when. the men were just there for the heavy lifting. and i finally had a taker on my big ticket item. and i can say with no apologies that i was pretty much done once it was toted off. the rest was left for donation... "donation."
after all was said and done "the salvation army" was to show up to pick up, pack up, and drive away with the leftovers. my sister had to leave ahead of everyone else because somebody decided to throw her a "house warming party" at her house that very same evening. so as she is counting her money, grabbing whatever she needed to take with her, leaving us behind to wait for whoever to show up, but never did mind you, she tells her husband "don't leave the fridge sitting in the front yard... move it around back." this she repeats 3 times. now i know i watched as her husband and my daddy moved that fridge from the back of the house to the front of the house on a set of "hand trucks" as they called it, leaving it sitting pricariously in the middle of the front yard. and it wasn't long before we realized that "the salvation army" was not showing up as was scheduled. so in the process of gathering our personal belongings, such as purses, items we chose to keep from said yard sale, my kid, and other odds and ends, we remind him, her husband, not to leave the fridge in the front yard. to which he asks "why?" what? as my parents and i look at him in disbelief. as my dad grabs that strange gray tape, that all men seem to have, we all at once tell him every reason why not to leave it... "a child could get trapped in it... "it could hurt someone if it falls over... "you could get sued if... "blah, blah, blah." he answers with a resounding "well, they would be trespassing on my property so it will be their fault if..." and we all just stood there like time seems to stand still in moments like these.
so, daddy puts the tape down, i grab my kid, mom gets in the car, i drive away totally thrilled with having a bit of spending money, and no one looks back after two long days of pricing and selling. the "yard sale" was over! yaaaaaaaaaay.....!!!!!!!!
like i said, this is what i don't understand.... somebody stole the fridge conveniently on a set of hand trucks and he didn't care but we did. why?
Sunday, May 29, 2011
looking at God
in his little face i see everything. this little boy. his eyes with long lashes. he looks down. and i say "look at me." and he does. but only for a moment. i fuss at him. "look at me." again. and again. finally, he looks long enough to pay attention.
anyone who knows me knows i am not "kid friendly." sad but true. my patience is extremely thin. i don't volunteer for the kids at church. i don't do birthday parties very well. i stand back and watch. all those mothers who jump in and get all dirty and sticky. ick. what a reflection i am painting for all the world.
don't get me wrong though. my kid. i love. dirty, sticky, stinky, icky, yucky, rotten. he's mine and i love him. but its the other little boy. ick. i thought. ick. why doesn't his mother clean him up? he's always dirty, sticky, stinky, icky, yucky, rotten. eeewwwwwww. i can't do this.
i can't do this. i. can. not. do. this. no. but i do. ick. this little boy with the eye lashes. his shirt is on backwards. again. i say nothing. he lives differently. we have rules. he has his own. and it drives me nuts. but i do this. i do this. "me too" he says. "me too." and he does.
this little boy has a buddy. a best buddy. my little boy. and i have no choice. "can i go over to his house?" ooohh nnoooo! please don't ask me to do this! "can i go over to his house mama?" ick. i have an instant headache. "go on." my little boy runs and bangs on the door. i think "well at least i don't have to worry about cleaning up a mess." my house is silent. the guilt washes over me. i'm not so kid friendly. no. i'm not.
it started with wednesday night church. "can he go mama?" i realize the age difference. i realize they have to be together or they will both be upset. i realize the disabilities others will have to deal with and accept. i realize i will have to explain why. "he's hard to understand." "he's younger than my son but he'll cry if he has to go to another class for his age." "they have to be together." "things are different with his family."
now its sunday school and church. "we'll see." we find an extra booster seat by the car. i sigh. loudly. i don't want to do this. "mama can he come too?" sigh. again. how can i explain otherwise. how can i say no. i can't explain my "ick" feelings. he's a little boy. "me too?"
i left the house today. to get away from boys. to go to a girl store. to look at girl things. no boy stuff. the cable guy was coming anyway. that's boy stuff. i remember my husband grunted as i left. not a groan. but a definite grunt. i did not feel the least bit guilty. i was tired of being the meanie. i'm the mean mama. you have to mind me!
i left a coupon at home. it was worth driving back to the house for. the clerk was more than glad to hold my things while i left to go get my coupon. "if you give me $20 i'll take the boys with me and stop at mcdonald's." did i just say that? were those my words? i watch my husband light up like a christmas tree waving a 20 at me. "me too?" the little boy asked. "go ask your mama." did i really, i mean really, did i say that?
load 'em up and move 'em out. we go back to the store. we all hold hands crossing the parking lot. "now you boys behave. don't touch anything. no running. or no mcdonald's." such good little boys in a girl store. i find the cure all for my ick. each little boy gets a blueberry smelling antibacterial hand gel with a neat holder to go on their belt loop. "me too?" he asks. "you too." i say.
both boys are noise sensitive and mcdonald's was a zoo! blood curdling screams could be heard for 2 blocks with no end in sight. it was a birthday party in full swing. ick. ick. ick!!! but 2 chicken nugget happy meals later and eleventy three (yes, i said eleventy three) trips thru the tunnels and down the slides you would never have known their ears hurt. and it was soooooooo hot. and our table was right in the sun.
with seatbelts buckled and headed for home we discovered a great air conditioner. all four windows all the way down. with blood curdling screams all my ick flew out the window as two little boys with full bellies laugh into the wind.
as we ride down the hill and both hands on the wheel i realize i'm looking at God.
anyone who knows me knows i am not "kid friendly." sad but true. my patience is extremely thin. i don't volunteer for the kids at church. i don't do birthday parties very well. i stand back and watch. all those mothers who jump in and get all dirty and sticky. ick. what a reflection i am painting for all the world.
don't get me wrong though. my kid. i love. dirty, sticky, stinky, icky, yucky, rotten. he's mine and i love him. but its the other little boy. ick. i thought. ick. why doesn't his mother clean him up? he's always dirty, sticky, stinky, icky, yucky, rotten. eeewwwwwww. i can't do this.
i can't do this. i. can. not. do. this. no. but i do. ick. this little boy with the eye lashes. his shirt is on backwards. again. i say nothing. he lives differently. we have rules. he has his own. and it drives me nuts. but i do this. i do this. "me too" he says. "me too." and he does.
this little boy has a buddy. a best buddy. my little boy. and i have no choice. "can i go over to his house?" ooohh nnoooo! please don't ask me to do this! "can i go over to his house mama?" ick. i have an instant headache. "go on." my little boy runs and bangs on the door. i think "well at least i don't have to worry about cleaning up a mess." my house is silent. the guilt washes over me. i'm not so kid friendly. no. i'm not.
it started with wednesday night church. "can he go mama?" i realize the age difference. i realize they have to be together or they will both be upset. i realize the disabilities others will have to deal with and accept. i realize i will have to explain why. "he's hard to understand." "he's younger than my son but he'll cry if he has to go to another class for his age." "they have to be together." "things are different with his family."
now its sunday school and church. "we'll see." we find an extra booster seat by the car. i sigh. loudly. i don't want to do this. "mama can he come too?" sigh. again. how can i explain otherwise. how can i say no. i can't explain my "ick" feelings. he's a little boy. "me too?"
i left the house today. to get away from boys. to go to a girl store. to look at girl things. no boy stuff. the cable guy was coming anyway. that's boy stuff. i remember my husband grunted as i left. not a groan. but a definite grunt. i did not feel the least bit guilty. i was tired of being the meanie. i'm the mean mama. you have to mind me!
i left a coupon at home. it was worth driving back to the house for. the clerk was more than glad to hold my things while i left to go get my coupon. "if you give me $20 i'll take the boys with me and stop at mcdonald's." did i just say that? were those my words? i watch my husband light up like a christmas tree waving a 20 at me. "me too?" the little boy asked. "go ask your mama." did i really, i mean really, did i say that?
load 'em up and move 'em out. we go back to the store. we all hold hands crossing the parking lot. "now you boys behave. don't touch anything. no running. or no mcdonald's." such good little boys in a girl store. i find the cure all for my ick. each little boy gets a blueberry smelling antibacterial hand gel with a neat holder to go on their belt loop. "me too?" he asks. "you too." i say.
both boys are noise sensitive and mcdonald's was a zoo! blood curdling screams could be heard for 2 blocks with no end in sight. it was a birthday party in full swing. ick. ick. ick!!! but 2 chicken nugget happy meals later and eleventy three (yes, i said eleventy three) trips thru the tunnels and down the slides you would never have known their ears hurt. and it was soooooooo hot. and our table was right in the sun.
with seatbelts buckled and headed for home we discovered a great air conditioner. all four windows all the way down. with blood curdling screams all my ick flew out the window as two little boys with full bellies laugh into the wind.
as we ride down the hill and both hands on the wheel i realize i'm looking at God.
Friday, May 6, 2011
until you walk in my shoes...
don't think for a second that i don't know how you judge me. i live it every breath i take. its written all over your face. it is almost audible. the look in your eyes when i say something. don't ask if you don't want to know. because i will tell you. brutally. my words will be brutal. by definition.
i left a window open. just one. all others are closed and locked. because there may come a day that someone wants to ask a question. or just come back. even without question.
last night i slept on the floor next to my little boy's bed. he has rads or reactive airway disease. its a condition in which the airways in the lungs overreact to certain things. he was diagnosed last friday. he will have to wear a medical bracelet. but, now, he has a stomach bug on top of that. he can't have his medication for rads. his heart rate is up. his temperature is alarming. his little cheeks have been bright red. the heat radiating from his little body has been overwhelming. he's so sick that he sleeps for long periods of time. and it scares me. so i stay up and watch. he tosses and moans. or he's deathly still and i watch to see if he's breathing. he is. tonight i let him sleep on the sofa. we will both sleep here tonight. for the moment he is quiet and still and the overwhelming heat has left his body. finally.
i have another little boy. i remember so many years ago the hallucinating fevers that were his only symptoms. he had asthma. so many nights i would sit and hold him while he fought the raging fevers. his eyes were glassy and wide open. "look mama! the horses!" reaching his little hand out into the space that was our living room. long hours. holding and rocking while sitting on the sofa. he never knew about the hallucinations. nor did anyone else. just me. just his mama. i watched him closely. every day. i held him tight every night. he would say "sing mama" and i would hum a lullaby he was so accustomed to hearing before he fell asleep. always in my arms. and i would carry him to his bed. he's all grown up now. no symptoms of asthma. he outgrew it. a relief. he's all grown up and has his own baby now. i hope he remembers the lullaby.
those days are gone. and nothing to replace them with. he is his father's son. but i left the window open.
words will never express the hurt. the broken heart. the loss. all of my will never had a chance. i had no chance. the rage of the fight in me got me nowhere. years have passed. years i tried. years i fought. years i'll wait. no matter. i will wait. i'm still here. and i still have another little boy. he's just all grown up now.
today i remembered all of these things. not that these rememberings are ever far away. but, they were up close. and personal. as i watched my little boy struggle with his fever for the second day. it all came rushing back. but they are not to be compared. my little boy was awake for a little while. as he watched spongebob his fever raged on. and again he began to fall asleep. i watched. and out of the blue he looked at me and said "mama, everybody in my class is bigger than me." he's in kindergarten. "that's ok" i say. as he drifted off again. and i watched.
it doesn't matter what you think of me. i know i did my best. i gave everything in me. to no avail. i was held at arms length. i was pushed away. i tell the truth. i will tell it again. and its not just me. its family. life is shorter than you think. before you realize it can all be covered up. but i keep uncovering it. every day. i live it. my life wills me.
i have another little boy. but he's all grown up. finally i laid my grief at God's feet. the grief that controlled my world. i have another little boy and i watch him breathe. just as i did before. i was there. now i'm here.
you can't judge me. not until you walk in my shoes...
i left a window open. just one. all others are closed and locked. because there may come a day that someone wants to ask a question. or just come back. even without question.
last night i slept on the floor next to my little boy's bed. he has rads or reactive airway disease. its a condition in which the airways in the lungs overreact to certain things. he was diagnosed last friday. he will have to wear a medical bracelet. but, now, he has a stomach bug on top of that. he can't have his medication for rads. his heart rate is up. his temperature is alarming. his little cheeks have been bright red. the heat radiating from his little body has been overwhelming. he's so sick that he sleeps for long periods of time. and it scares me. so i stay up and watch. he tosses and moans. or he's deathly still and i watch to see if he's breathing. he is. tonight i let him sleep on the sofa. we will both sleep here tonight. for the moment he is quiet and still and the overwhelming heat has left his body. finally.
i have another little boy. i remember so many years ago the hallucinating fevers that were his only symptoms. he had asthma. so many nights i would sit and hold him while he fought the raging fevers. his eyes were glassy and wide open. "look mama! the horses!" reaching his little hand out into the space that was our living room. long hours. holding and rocking while sitting on the sofa. he never knew about the hallucinations. nor did anyone else. just me. just his mama. i watched him closely. every day. i held him tight every night. he would say "sing mama" and i would hum a lullaby he was so accustomed to hearing before he fell asleep. always in my arms. and i would carry him to his bed. he's all grown up now. no symptoms of asthma. he outgrew it. a relief. he's all grown up and has his own baby now. i hope he remembers the lullaby.
those days are gone. and nothing to replace them with. he is his father's son. but i left the window open.
words will never express the hurt. the broken heart. the loss. all of my will never had a chance. i had no chance. the rage of the fight in me got me nowhere. years have passed. years i tried. years i fought. years i'll wait. no matter. i will wait. i'm still here. and i still have another little boy. he's just all grown up now.
today i remembered all of these things. not that these rememberings are ever far away. but, they were up close. and personal. as i watched my little boy struggle with his fever for the second day. it all came rushing back. but they are not to be compared. my little boy was awake for a little while. as he watched spongebob his fever raged on. and again he began to fall asleep. i watched. and out of the blue he looked at me and said "mama, everybody in my class is bigger than me." he's in kindergarten. "that's ok" i say. as he drifted off again. and i watched.
it doesn't matter what you think of me. i know i did my best. i gave everything in me. to no avail. i was held at arms length. i was pushed away. i tell the truth. i will tell it again. and its not just me. its family. life is shorter than you think. before you realize it can all be covered up. but i keep uncovering it. every day. i live it. my life wills me.
i have another little boy. but he's all grown up. finally i laid my grief at God's feet. the grief that controlled my world. i have another little boy and i watch him breathe. just as i did before. i was there. now i'm here.
you can't judge me. not until you walk in my shoes...
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
panic is terrible. it is a driving force. without warning it attacks. it hurts. it reminds me of things i don't want to remember. it wakes me in the middle of the night for no reason. i am minding my own business and it strikes.
i live with panic. it lurks. it waits for me. and just when i least expect it it becomes full blown. basically, there is nothing i can do but wait it out. there are those moments when i have to understand the difference between panic pain or is it my heart. either way its breaking.
its all consumming. and i have to fight it alone. there is nothing, no one who can help. medication? yes. for the rest of my life. but it isn't instantaneous. i have to wait it out. the pounding is like thunder. i can't see the elephant sitting on my chest. but, its there. taking its time. time i can't take. mentally.
healing comes with time. time can be what makes me or breaks me. i've learned to work it out. that doesn't mean it doesn't get the best of me. it runs my life.
i don't think about my panic until it sneaks up on me. maybe its the only thing that gets me thru it. i don't think about it. i don't wait for it. it just slams me and i have to handle it then. there is no time to think about what to do.
my panic is no secret. anyone who knows me knows that panic is me. i face it every day. every moment. every breath. every time i read something that hits too close to home.
home. panic. not the same. my home is my refuge. used to be hell only a different location. my husband sees it. he knows it isn't my fault. he loves me thru it. loves me thru it. every time. without fail. he loves me thru it.
i can choose to hide. my home hides me. my home protects me. my home is me. my home. but i don't want to hide. my life is an open book. its what i tell people. i have no secrets. so if my life is an open book then why hide? because i can. but i will tell you about it. about me. about what i know. i'm me. just ask and i will tell you.
i am fierce. i'm out-spoken. i'm mean. i can be meaner. but i love hard. so hard it hurts. i can't not love. but there are those who think otherwise. they think because "i let go" i don't love anymore. but they are wrong. i love hard but i have to let go. if i love too hard i am consummed by it all and i fail. i am not a failure. but there are those same who believe i am. but i'm not.
what is it they say "... if you love something let it go... blah blah blah..." i let it go. but not without a fight. i let it go so i could breathe. i let go so i could live. i let go because i love too hard and i shatter into a million pieces over and over. does anyone believe me? does it matter? i let go not because i didn't love. i let go because there was nowhere i could hold onto.
run. run. fast as i can. i run and chase. i run faster. i'm almost there. no i'm not. there is no "almost." but i run. i can't catch up. they won't let me. this is my race. no one can run with me. no one runs for me. no one runs to me. but i run. i still run faster.
i read sadness. i answer sadly. it reminds me. and i panic. so much hurt. so much pain. what happened? why did it turn sad? i was there. i know i was. this heart was there. this heart stays open. it is wounded. but it stays open. it hurts still. it hurts always. i can't breathe if i close it. i can't smile if i close it. a wounded smile that no one sees. they just see a smile.
time is too fast. so i smile. time turns away what was. that smile is still there. but no one sees lost time. no one sees the time that caused the wounded heart. no one sees the panic inside. my constant companion. pretend? no. real feelings. i hide nothing from the world. but its misunderstood.
i left. i walked away. no i didn't. no one let me in. i'm not too proud to beg. i love too hard so i beg. i can't not love. but i have to wait it out. i have to seem the bad one. i'm not bad. if you see me you know me. i'm not bad. i'm me. with panic.
there is no button to push. panic isn't a button to push. its panic. its pain. and it hurts. and no one understands. and it starts all over.
i let go so i could breathe. i let go so i could love again. i let go because i have to live again. i let go so when i panic i don't fall apart. i let go.
love panics.
i live with panic. it lurks. it waits for me. and just when i least expect it it becomes full blown. basically, there is nothing i can do but wait it out. there are those moments when i have to understand the difference between panic pain or is it my heart. either way its breaking.
its all consumming. and i have to fight it alone. there is nothing, no one who can help. medication? yes. for the rest of my life. but it isn't instantaneous. i have to wait it out. the pounding is like thunder. i can't see the elephant sitting on my chest. but, its there. taking its time. time i can't take. mentally.
healing comes with time. time can be what makes me or breaks me. i've learned to work it out. that doesn't mean it doesn't get the best of me. it runs my life.
i don't think about my panic until it sneaks up on me. maybe its the only thing that gets me thru it. i don't think about it. i don't wait for it. it just slams me and i have to handle it then. there is no time to think about what to do.
my panic is no secret. anyone who knows me knows that panic is me. i face it every day. every moment. every breath. every time i read something that hits too close to home.
home. panic. not the same. my home is my refuge. used to be hell only a different location. my husband sees it. he knows it isn't my fault. he loves me thru it. loves me thru it. every time. without fail. he loves me thru it.
i can choose to hide. my home hides me. my home protects me. my home is me. my home. but i don't want to hide. my life is an open book. its what i tell people. i have no secrets. so if my life is an open book then why hide? because i can. but i will tell you about it. about me. about what i know. i'm me. just ask and i will tell you.
i am fierce. i'm out-spoken. i'm mean. i can be meaner. but i love hard. so hard it hurts. i can't not love. but there are those who think otherwise. they think because "i let go" i don't love anymore. but they are wrong. i love hard but i have to let go. if i love too hard i am consummed by it all and i fail. i am not a failure. but there are those same who believe i am. but i'm not.
what is it they say "... if you love something let it go... blah blah blah..." i let it go. but not without a fight. i let it go so i could breathe. i let go so i could live. i let go because i love too hard and i shatter into a million pieces over and over. does anyone believe me? does it matter? i let go not because i didn't love. i let go because there was nowhere i could hold onto.
run. run. fast as i can. i run and chase. i run faster. i'm almost there. no i'm not. there is no "almost." but i run. i can't catch up. they won't let me. this is my race. no one can run with me. no one runs for me. no one runs to me. but i run. i still run faster.
i read sadness. i answer sadly. it reminds me. and i panic. so much hurt. so much pain. what happened? why did it turn sad? i was there. i know i was. this heart was there. this heart stays open. it is wounded. but it stays open. it hurts still. it hurts always. i can't breathe if i close it. i can't smile if i close it. a wounded smile that no one sees. they just see a smile.
time is too fast. so i smile. time turns away what was. that smile is still there. but no one sees lost time. no one sees the time that caused the wounded heart. no one sees the panic inside. my constant companion. pretend? no. real feelings. i hide nothing from the world. but its misunderstood.
i left. i walked away. no i didn't. no one let me in. i'm not too proud to beg. i love too hard so i beg. i can't not love. but i have to wait it out. i have to seem the bad one. i'm not bad. if you see me you know me. i'm not bad. i'm me. with panic.
there is no button to push. panic isn't a button to push. its panic. its pain. and it hurts. and no one understands. and it starts all over.
i let go so i could breathe. i let go so i could love again. i let go because i have to live again. i let go so when i panic i don't fall apart. i let go.
love panics.
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