The Breakup

I once told him that icicles are magical 
and he left them to grow on the eves of his house 
so I could stare in wonder at them.
They were there all winter 
and grew as much as I was growing to care for him.
Love isn't always slowly melting.
Sometimes it's black and blue where it hurts the most.

Three years ago 
I said that I never wanted to write another breakup poem again,
yet here I am.
I loved him still on our last date at the shooting range
where I hit 23 targets in a row, 
and missed 40,
but he still looked on like I was an action movie heroine.

Little did I know that the poems were there all along 
but in a language I did not yet know how to speak.
But I know now it doesn't matter how well I say Grace
if I am sitting at a table 
where I am offered nothing that feeds my soul.
If I knew this wasn't a fairy tale meant for me
I would have smashed my glass slippers
 and created a stained glass window instead.

In silence, it's impossible to tell what the other person 
is thinking without looking them in the eyes
and him,
he was as still as a lake morning at 5 a.m. in June.
He asked if we could still be friends.
I explained how in no uncertain terms 
that a honeybee does not dream of kissing 
the wet, sweet lips of a flower
and then settles for its leaves.

I can remember arriving at his home 
and walking in to the scent of fresh baked brownies
on the worst day ever.
Holding hands on the couch.
I could see the rose petals falling from his fingertips
from the doorway to the bedroom like breadcrumbs,
or drops of blood in a crime scene.

I can't enjoy them now without starving for his laughter.
I'm hungry for his touch
yet my mouth tastes like the slow dissolve 
of the the last 'I love you' 
that refused to leave our mouths.

I can wait for him to:
finish never ending home renovations,
take care of his health, 
focus on his promotion,
heal.

I can't wait for him to:
Grow up.
Grow a pair.
Decide that I am worth having in his life.

I don't need any more friends.

Allergic

I am falling apartI feel the pain of the love I once had for you
oozing out of my pores and it's giving me hivesI feel feelings like an emotional peanut allergyAnd you were my Benadryl

~ Cynicallovebird

As It Is

I never said I love him,
But I can tell you how liked his food not to touch
Much like everything else in his life

Perfect sheets and a chaotic kitchen island
The same shows on repeat
Accommodating but never welcoming

I never said I love him
But I can tell you where he liked to be touched
And everywhere he didn't

Orgasmic connection
Tingling brain and bits
And an absent heart

I never said I love him
But those were three years that felt like a lifetime
And I wanted to keep it as it was

~ Cynicallovebird

Monday Night Superhero

If you wish to be a warrior prepare to get broken.  If you wish to be an explorer, prepare to get lost and if you wish to be a lover prepare to be both.  

~  Daniel Saint

  One day I'm just going to get straight to the point and tell you that you give me butterflies in my vagina. 

    ~ Cynicallovebird

I once fell in love with a fisherman who kissed me quickly
and threw me overboard as if I was one of many.
And then along came him,
a sailor who knew I was the sea.

I think about it all the time.  
What I want.  
How scared and intimidated I am to go after it.  
The embarrassment of fumbling through stupid formalities of dating.  
Can't they be bypassed altogether?  
I would just rather move past the banter that has no bearing on anything meaningful 
and communicate non-verbally and maybe talk afterwards instead.
I'm only easy once.
Once,
when I'm unfurling myself in the sun of their attentions.

What surrounds me is a disaster.
What's within me is a mixture of bliss and a hint of madness
but what's in front of me,
let's just say my walls shake at the mere thought of their eyes.
Sometimes I like it gentle and intimate.
Other times I need rough and animalistic.
And being able to decipher which I need and when is part of the art of being a man.

I laid in his arms while the stars bloomed above us.
"Greetings" said my former moon up high.
I smiled to my old lover and gave him the middle finger.
He stared down and made the tides roar in his jealousy.
I closed my eyes and I found peace at the sight of the waves
because I was no longer the one who was drowning in them.

All I did was let go, let it happen.
I let a soul who resembled mine treat me as I was longing to treat them.
So the beauty lied in how he touched my skin,
as though I was more than who I saw myself as.
I have never felt so exposed;
which also begs the question,
have I ever even allowed one to see me?
He has from the first second we laid eyes on each other
and every day for seven years.

At that moment, 
I was completely consumed by sensory overload.  
I wanted to touch every inch of him, 
silently celebrating everything I see as imperfections within myself.  
I tasted myself inside his mouth.  
We saw each other in all our existence;  
fears and desires, his lust.  
His hunger to bite my neck. 
I laid on my lovers chest that night under darkness.
I still hear his heart beat when I listen closely. 

Sexual release brings such emotional resolve for me.  
He comforted me by reassuring me that he'd found peace in my mania.  
That my anxiety is a riddle he doesn't mind taking the time to solve.  
We found familiarity with each other in his depression.  

I slept soundly for the first time;
a peace came and I didn't walk away as I do.
Control no longer on my list.
I'd now just rather be the open vessel to what the universe has in store.
What a release to let it all go
and invite the peace that only a tremendous foundational plummet can bring.
Oh, and it wasn't the beautiful waves of his body
or the cosmic touch of his fingers on my skin.
It was the way they fixed their gentle stare on my face
and melted the raging chaos in the very marrow of my bones.

So now with all this vast empty space shall I free fall or fly?
For him I'd sail to the stars,
blowing kisses to the earth below,
welcoming the most beautiful demise with an even more beautiful view.

Overpowering, it overflowed from me to him.
He bit my lip and held me closer knowing I am absolutely his.
Life was calling and it would never stop
but in those few minutes his presence healed me,

My Monday night superhero.

Over

I confess that I loved you more than I let on
but you weren't ready for it
and I wasn't going to pour myself into hands
that I knew weren't equipped to hold me

Some people exist to show you exactly what isn't right for you.
I understand now that I'm separated from the situation that I was never in love with you.
It was just a manipulation of the hope that I had developed in the back of my brain
from too many Disney movies as a kid.

When you truly love someone,
you accept them for who they are,
what they want out of life.
I knew from the second I met you that you were not capable of loving me
and I accepted that
and found peace in things as they were.

I stopped wanting to be loved by you.
I stopped putting that pressure on you;
and myself.
I stopped caring if I was perfect.
You acted like you accepted me as I am.
That was a big fat lie and I knew it,
what was I really going to do?
Time with you became the break from my life that I thought I needed,
but all I found was a black hole disguised as a rabbit hole.

I found solace in not being anything to you.
That became the entire point.
The only thing I ever had to be when I was with you was "there".

There was no pressure,
because it clearly didn't matter to you whether I was or not.
I became something I didn't recognize;
and maybe I shouldn't have bent the knee,
but I can't take it back now.

Although I swear that this is a new chapter,
it will always feel like it has the same old end.
Leaving me with more questions than answers.

The warrior in me is filled with disappointment.

Trauma

One day I just got sick of hearing myself tell that same fucking story again.
You know.
That one.
The one that changed me.
The one that blew my soul out like a candle.
The one I tuck under my pillow each night.
The one I scream to at street lanterns in the creepy midnight air
as I watch the silhouette of another person I love leaving me,
also tired of listening to me tell that same fucking story.
The story I let define me.
The one that lives my life for me.
The one that won't wash off no matter how many oceans I cross to run away from it.
The story that no man can kiss away completely.
One day came.
I opened my mouth to speak and out of it came nothing.
My tongue licked the inside of my cheek and no longer tasted blood.
That was the day I stopped arriving with a ready-made introduction.
There's no 500 pound label stuck to my head anymore.

A Dear John Letter

"Why did you guys break up?"
She laughed, almost painfully.  "One day he loved me, the next day he didn't.  Strange isn't it?  How fast someone's feelings can change and then there's nothing you can do but accept it."

I took a shower.  I paced.  I sat down.  I stood up.  I tried to shake the ghost of you from my every waking thought.  Tucked away in my head, in the dusty cobwebbed corners I try to avoid, I already knew - one day, I would.  One day, I will miss your face a little less.  That one day I would wake, drink my coffee, shower, and leave the house and you will have not crossed my mind.  Not even once.

Today was not that day. 

But does it even matter?  You've taken the last bit of trust I had for you, and washed it off in the shower you share with someone else.  You're way too busy to remember to remember me.  And how could you be there for me now, if you were never even there for me when you were here?

I have late night conversations with my dog.  He tells me how much he missed me when I was away and I tell him about you and how I want to take back the secrets I told you so I can decide now whether or not to tell you them again.  I want to take back the piece of me that lies in you, to see if I truly miss it.  I want to take back at least half the confessions, because I would feel safer knowing where my secrets are.  I want to shake you and tell you that you're an idiot.   

I was never a traveler, but my mind was always unsettled and wandering.  And then I met you, and nothing seemed as aimless as it was before.

If I knew that that was going to be the last time I'd ever touch you, I would have hugged you so much longer.  I don't think I would've ever let you go.  And if I knew that was the last real conversation we were ever going to have where we shared our dreams and laughed and were real with each other without a string of obscenities flying out of my mouth, I would have never stopped talking.  If I knew that you weren't coming back, I swear I would've told you that you were the only person I have ever felt connected with and that you were my home.  I would have told you that your face was my favorite movie to watch and that your voice was my favorite song and that I could listen to you talking to me always.  That your kiss felt like a resuscitation at the end of a bland day.  But would that have made a difference? 

I want to do silly things with you and not have to pretend that I know and don't care that your sun doesn't set for me;  just have fun and go with it.  Kiss a lot and hold hands and make fun of everyone in the movies because we're better than them and then take you to the other room and fuck you like there's nothing left in the world but you and I.  

I keep thinking back to a night on your couch when I had popped a raisin in my mouth and you watched with amusement as I tried to hide the look of disgust on my face;  I was trying to train myself to like them so I didn't feel so betrayed that they weren't chocolate chips. 

Long ago, I loved raisins; but once, in second grade I ate a box during snack time and I threw them up in front of the whole class;  and that was the last time I would even look at them until that day when I suddenly decided that I'd like to try to move on. 

I want to get it through my damn head -  all the things you said; and some you didn't have to.  More than anything, I want to show you how unbelievably contradictory you are. 

You told me that I was silly, and if I didn't like something that it was okay not to like it.  I said that's not how I work;  I made that same face again today but this time I wasn't eating a raisin.  And that's why I've written you this letter and that's why you're gone.  

I had called you a good person and you had already called me a cab and slipped the driver an address to the corner of Love and A Better Man. 

Because you can't be a raisin.  

I buried you.  I had a funeral for you in my soul.  It was quite lovely.  I had to, it was a matter of life and death.  Yours or mine.  And I decided that I wanted to live.  I think I've finally learned to kill the part of me that still wanted to save you after you walked away while I was drowning.  You were an ass.  You made sure I fell for you and you weren't even there to catch me.

Worst of all, you made me trust you.  You made me think you weren't like all the others.  And you know what?  You aren't like all the others.  You are so much worse.  The best feeling in the world is looking at the person who fucking destroyed you and not feeling a damn thing.  I pray with every atom of my being that this day comes sooner than later, it's really exhausting to feel the battle ax that you tore my heart out with sticking out of my chest almost constantly.

I want this up and down to stop.  Just Stop.  If you're going to push me away, I want you to truly be gone.  I want to punch you.  Hard.  I want this hurt to cease.  But I can't make it stop no matter what I do.  I made a promise to myself that if you can live without me, that I would live without you.  I deserve better than half measures.  And even more, I deserve better than my reaction to it.  I won't apologize for evolving past your comfort zone.   

And now that I broke, screamed, ugly cried and then fabulously am getting over you, I feel great knowing I'm sure our paths will never cross.  I had hoped the day would never come where I was only a part of your past, but now that it has I hope that the thought of me awakens the part of your heart you kept dormant when I wanted a home there and it kills you. 

I think it's finally okay if I never forget you;  that you'll forever be a puncture in my lungs.  When people speak your name I'll squeeze out the song of us like a dusty accordion and I'll tell them I don't know what became of you but that I can still feel your hands on my skin.   

I'm moving on.  It's not that I've stopped loving you, it's that I know eventually I'll stop wanting it in return.

Not Me

"Never trust people who don't have something in their lives that they love beyond all reason."
~ Fredrik Backman, Beartown

I know I should save my tears for someone who will catch them
As I try to ignore the memory of the way your scent makes my chest ache.
You're not in love with me.
You run around stealing hearts and confusing brains
Because it's so much easier to break another than it is to fix yourself.
And this is why my door for you is now closed.

If you truly believed that we had no potential of something special
It is either the most magnificent of lies,
Or heartbreaking of truths.
If this were a month ago,
I would have leapt off the edge of the earth waiting for you to catch me
If that's what it took to feel your touch one last time.

But I was never the reason you're dancing on rainbows
And sleeping with no rain clouds above your head.
My smiles didn't send butterflies to your stomach.
You gave your affection like the weather.
"It's cloudy and boring today;  I will give you what you need of me".
But on the sunniest of days,
There were too many other shiny,
Pretty things to give your attentions to.
I'm just an option,
Everyone else on the planet is the priority.
Funny how you remember my existence when they forget about you.

I loved you in pieces because that is all you ever gave me.
As if saying to yourself;
She's a good one but I don't want her right now
But I still don't want anyone else to have her
Because I know I'll want her eventually.
But I know how to insult the crap out of her intelligence
And it's really fun to watch her lose her shit over why I don't call;
So I'm just going to play with her emotions,
Mind fucking her into believing that she might actually mean something to me
And make empty promises so she doesn't leave.
I filled the spaces between with everything that I hoped you were.

My voice didn't make your knees tremble
And your heart sink to the deepest part of your soul at the thought of my sadness.
You may have made my heart sing,
But you can't even write a single line about how my eyes sparkle every time I looked at you.
You don't see me when you close your eyes.

I thought I loved you,
but it was only the guise of you.
And your performance is Oscar worthy.
I'm still clapping for the wonderful show you put on for me!
This is why I loved you the most;
And this is also why I hated you the most.
And why my wound where I've been cut the deepest won't heal.
But miss you?
Oh no.
I can't miss what didn't exist in the first place.

The message getting lost in translation from brain to heart is always the same:
I deserve someone who doesn't make me feel stupid for being loyal to them.
Darling,
You're not in love with me,
So do me a favor and let me be free of you.

Insomnia

Insomnia

It's 3 a.m.
I'm sitting on my porch chair that I have painted bright yellow
In an attempt to bring sunshine into my life
I can't get you off my mind
Maybe if I sleep for more than three hours
I'll forget the way your mouth felt
Or the way your eyes examined me
I keep forcing my mind to wander to a different subject
But like a boomerang here we are
Trying to put as many miles between you and my mind as possible.
We're in the same Hell
Just dealing with different devils
And coping in very different ways

Cowardess seems to be working out well for you

Even though you've always known exactly where and how to get to me
I'm sure you'll never read this
I can't help but think that the Universe sent you to me to teach me a lesson of sorts.
You are the only man who has ever said no to me.
Normally the thought of tearing a man apart would thrill me
But it doesn't.
You were different.
I am determined to make tonight the beginning of what I fear has ended
Without the "It's over" goodbye I need to move on from you
Even though common sense is yelling in my face like an abusive acquaintance.
So tequila and a good nights rest is my next attempt at letting this be.

All these fucking attempts are getting annoying.
Running in circles, chasing your tail.
This shit better work.
Was it three or four shots that did the trick?
I can't recall.
My first attempt was deleting every trace of you from my phone.
There really was no point.
Pictures;  your touch is burned into every nerve ending.
Text messages; the way you have about you when you're sweet talking me won't leave my ears.
Call history;  I cannot wash away the bruises left on my pride every time you've blown me off.
Your contact information:
Why does my mind have to remember numbers better now than it did back in 1990?

The view from my deck wrapped in my blanket
Looking out at the still river and the shadows looming
Thinking to myself
This is what horror films set in Maine are made of
How fitting for the nightmare that I'm in.
My barrier that I had up against you was the only part of me that was still whole.
How did I let you in?
Sometimes we just know things.
And no matter how much we know it's going to crush us we long for it anyway.
I never saw you coming

Reflections From My Driveway

4/19/19 @ 11:43 p.m.

It's very sad and perplexing at the same time;
when you're treated as though you might be a person worth getting to know 
by someone new.
It feels like a completely foreign concept.
It hits your brain in the most awkward ways.  
Like, it almost feels like they're wrong.  
Like you're doing them a disservice by letting them get to know your insides.
There's something about rejection that does that to us. 
We tell ourselves that we know better;
but knowing something and feeling something are always going to be parted 
by the great sea of rejection 
and all other things that have wronged and ruined us,
every single time.

________________________________________________________


"If they act like they don't give a shit about you, believe them."  Best advice I've ever received.  I'm done trying to swan dive down people's throats, my ass is too big to fit.

Sometimes the nicest thing we can do for ourselves is to accept that we're human.  It might be killing me to breathe, but I'm resting when I can instead of running around like a crazed lunatic pretending to be fine as usual.

_________________________________________________________________________________

I'm done saying "sorry" for things that I'm not sorry for.  I want everyone to be happy, but it's also not my job to dim my light to make others more comfortable.  Your opinion of me is none of my business.  I am a nice person.  I am a quirky person.  I love hard and I wear my heart on my sleeve if I'm comfortable with you.  If I'm not, then I seem cold and removed, but I'm really just shy.  I am me, and I won't apologize for that.  Just know that I'm a good person.
_________________________________________________________________________

I just wanted to thank you for making all the love songs mean something

____________________________________________________________________

With one look at my mother I'm overcome with an overwhelming sense of grief.

All I've ever wanted was a mother.  All I've ever gotten was an evil dictator, a boss, an abuser, an arch nemesis and a two-faced friend.

I seek to find peace for my world in pieces.
I need to find a way to relax.
All this stress from recent sadness and other life-insanity;
my anxiety cloud offering nothing but darkness, 
decompressing from my anxious mind that ending in something closely resembling Wile E. Coyote free falling 
- watching the boulder that was about to fall on him the whole way down - 
had me ready punch my microwave for beeping halfway through defrosting a steak tonight...

If you can't laugh at yourself, what can you do?

My 18 month journey into no longer reaching for familiar coping mechanisms has been tested greatly,
something that I've been trying my best to ignore.  
We all know how that goes.  

My white flag is flying for all to see.
It's not what I'm used to.

_________________________________________________________________________


The activity buddy
The something to do
I never intended to end up as something so lowly to a person
But what I allowed is what continued
And now here I am
Done with your shit and only myself to blame
Forever doomed with the purpose of showing you exactly how much I love you without the pleasure of ever saying it

~cynicallovebird

---------

Wrecking Ball was playing on the radio 
after we stopped spewing hatred at each other
For 350 days I never thought this day would come
The day where I don't know you anymore
I woke up this morning and the world looked like a completely different place
And it doesn't feel fair 
I saw a storm brewing but I never saw this coming.

You know that look that someone who once loved you gives you when you just became another person to them?

Yeah me neither.

It wasn't until I experienced true love that I saw that difference.

____________________________________________________________________

You don't get to make decisions for the both of us like I'm some invalid child who can't function and then wonder why I'm frustrated.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Laying on my bed in the sun on my day off I can't help but remember that this is the kind of day where you'd be here.  Making sure you implanted yourself in my world on a beautiful day so that I couldn't enjoy ever the slightest of joy.  Doing what you wanted, never what I needed.

_________________________________________________________

My name is Jessie, and I am a sex addict dating a man who wants basically nothing to do with sex.  Because it's better that way.
___________________________________________________________________

There's always a fork in the road.
The day comes when you wake up and decide that this isn't how you want to live your life anymore;
and you'll be fine with it.  
You can walk away from what isn't right for you.
No more breaking your nails holding onto what didn't fit for dear life because you couldn't admit you might be OK.
The fear is no longer overwhelming as as you own who you are and take the next turn,
you stare it straight in the eye and walk past it.
_________________________________________________________

I know that some things are better left unsaid
I just wish they weren't the same ones that needed to be
My mouth is full of Napalm and it won't keep quiet to meet that bar you've set  in your own comfort level
I'll blast through the bullshit you use as mortar
With your excuses and explainations
Brick by brick trying to keep me contained in your fairy tale of what fuckery really means.
_________________________________________________________________________________

My IQ is higher than the equivalent of the men I've slept with combined.
This is why I fell in love with you.
__________________________________________________________________

Good morning y'all.  Yes, I am posting a no makeup selfie on my way to the grocery store to fix my hankering for cookies.  Just wanted to throw out a reminder that if all you did was wake up and breathe today I'm still proud of you, and you definitely deserve a pat on the back for making it through by any means necessary.  I on the other hand, have put the bare minimum into my self care lately and I can definitely feel it.  And you also see it in my no fucks given, didn't even look in the mirror this morning as I quickly brush my teeth and ran out the door face.  Oh well, I'm just doing yard work.  Here's to hoping that everyone walking on the waterfront today has bad vision.
_______________________________________________________________

Why do single women take advice from other single women?  That's like Stevie Wonder giving Ray Charles driving directions.
________________________________________________________________________________

People like to coin the phrase
"My inner child is a drunken whore".
I don't have a demon,
I have a devil in a blue dress.
She likes to scratch herself at the windows from inside my walls
The word sobriety to her is a puppy dog to play with,
and she likes to curl up inside the swoop of the b and tickle my fancy.
She loves power and she knows just which heart string to pull

6/18/18

_________________________________________________________

3/26/18

I'm so tired of boys using their former emotional traumas as an out to be a douchebag.

Yes Eric, the years of cheating on your wife and the stress of everyone expecting more from you than you can give them;  and your willingness to share that fact with me, totally wiped out not calling when you said you would and not treating me with any amount of basic human decency.

You didn't keep my number in your phone for 3 years and not use it because it's romantic, like you are hoping I'd find it to be.  No it's actually quite weird.  I kind of think that only reason I want to meet up with you is so I can delete it._________________________________________________________

2/23/18

I've reached exhaustion level *Leave my keys in the fridge and then cry after looking like a mad woman to find them*.  I don't even remember going to the fridge since I got home.  I quit.

I woke up feeling more useless than the "G" in lasagna.  Going to the gym is going to kick my ass.

_________________________________________________________1/29/18

I'm pretty sure that I've discovered that a therapist recommending that you write in your blog because I'm very good at it is pretty much the equivalent of a grandmother trying to convince you to eat everything in the house.
_________________________________________________________________________________

1/27/18

Sometimes my mind is as serene as my camp on Toddy Pond.
Other days,
like this day,
it's Thunder Hole.
Filled with crashing thoughts so loud I can't hear anything else.
________________________________________________________________________________

1/13/18

I have been spending the past year assessing feelings.  Figuring out why I do the things that suck when I do them.  I was honest out loud the other day.  It was painful.  Letting someone I am terrified of leaving me see me as I am.  I am an addict.  Not drugs.  Alcohol, sex and one night stands.  Getting to pretend that everything is fine for a little while.  Ignoring the fires.  I got really good at it.  As a kid growing up in mental health chaos I had plenty of practice.

I've pretty much stopped writing and modeling.  Nothing feels right.  My skin is crawling in this exposed and vulnerable state I've found myself in.

I've been avoiding social events.  It's as if trying to be healthier mentally has thrown gasoline on fear...of what though?  Happiness?

Oh for fuck's sake.

Brain, get it together.
________________________________________________________________________________

12/17/17

I'm so tired of feeling like I'm constantly jumping through hoops just to stay capable of some resemblence of Ok.

I don't feel like I can breathe without something else going wrong.  It's overwhelming.
_________________________________________________________________________________

12/7/17

I'm stuck between a rock and the person I'd like to hit with it.
________________________________________________________________________________

12/2/17

Reighan's brain, example 5,000:
You know what I just realized?  That all the beer names sound like they were made up by someone who was drunk from drinking the beer.
________________________________________________________________________________

11/24/17

I'm pursuing other options because I feel like I have to.  If this was something, then it would be enough for me.  But it's not because it isn't.  I want ownership.  I need something tangible that I can talk about and not feel weird because I don't know what to call it.
_________________________________________________________________________________

11/15/17

Self care isn't always manicures and drinks.  Sometimes, it's going to bed at 8 or letting go of someone who didn't know how to be good to you.  It's forgiving yourself for not meeting your impossible standards and understanding you are worth it even if it feels like every male on the planet doesn't see it.  Self care isn't a luxury, it's a means of survival;  and tonight my self care is curling up with my fleece lined leggings, my afghan that my mom made when I was little, ice cream, Netflix and forgetting all about the stupid planet because I survived the day and that's all I need to know right now.
_________________________________________________________________________________

11/5/17

Let me get this straight for a second, you have absolutely no interest in dating me or getting to know me at all.  However, you have somehow managed to make it you lifes mission to sit back and watch my dating life with the eyes of a hawk, and judge the shit out of everyone who wants to....why is that?
_________________________________________________________________________________

9/16/17

Being in my shoes isn't hard.
It's terrifying.
And the creepy clown waiting in the gutter is knowledge that with one wrong move I'm going to fail at everything.
_______________________________________________________________________________

8/7/17

A beginning and an ending can't be in the same space and you already decided which one you were going to be before I could decide for myself.

_________________________________________________________________________________

Extended Family

My heart bruised
It's all relative 
that we're all relatives
Yet you treat me as other
DNA not the same
Some shared
But how can we laugh over the same 3 Stooges
My gifts revered
But I'm given half the gifts
But all the same hugs and kisses
You take
My heart
My love
And give half back
Not yours
Expectations high
Keeps my confidence low
A dark shadow looming over
As if I
A child 
Was something to fear
I only wanted one to revere
You
A hole I'll never fill

~ Cynicallovebird

Closure

From the beginning, we were a tragedy;
in the agonizing instant I first saw your face,
I knew that I wanted to give you everything,
and that you had already stolen all of the things I had to offer
And then when my soul saw you it kind of went,
"Oh there you are.  I've been looking for you."
My infatuation, my desire, my lust for you was all consuming
Hell, I even trusted you

I miss you
Like, really miss you.
I feel the squeeze in the bottom of my heart when my mind says your name or sees your face.
When the wind whispers your voice.
The 4am sleeplessness,
not caused by writers block but by the whirlwind of dreams and memories dancing in my brain
The smile that forms when I imagine your laugh
that stupid grin you make when you see me doing something stupid.
I miss you.

I wore longing in my hair for a man who did not deserve to pull it.
But one thing that I will always be sure of
is that I'll never be sure how to know how to end and be a memory
I'll always be sure that I'll never be sorry for letting the world make me strong
I hope you hurt as you realize as you sift through the rubble of our memories
Admitting that your definition of love wasn't love at all;
But more a manipulation of hope.
And when they ask you about me and you find yourself thinking back,
don't lie like I meant nothing.
I hope you ache in regret as the truth hits you like a bullet and you find yourself replying:
"She loved me more than anyone else in the entire world and I destroyed her."

I went to our spot where the ocean devours the sand.
Desperately trying to ease my messy thoughts
I laid my body down on the cold ground waiting for gravity to cease.
I thought that maybe that's what it would take to move on from you.
The things you have done said that this was it,
that there was nothing here worth saving
and that we should set it ablaze and bury the ash
Which shocked me to my core and sort of confused me because
I thought you already did that.

I would like to say it's water under the bridge, but I'm not quite there yet.
After all, it was the water I nearly drowned in and the bridge you stood on, watching.

I Did A Thing

I am a person who helps myself out of my stress and anxiety by helping others.  The worse things are within myself, the easier I find it to just help another person or stay busy baking yummy concoctions for my coworkers to enjoy.  Doing something, anything, on a crappy stuck in my own head time to get outside of myself.  For years, and mostly driven by my childhood I have wanted to support others in their journey with mental health struggles, but I had no idea where to start because I like my current line of work and I don't know where to start or how to do it.

Given my ongoing struggles with some behaviors that aren't healthy used as coping mechanisms to deal with my own personal hell, I've been dying to connect with a support group but I didn't know of any in my area that would help me.  Yes, I drink, but I don't feel that I belong in AA.  Yes, I love sex and have had more 1 night stands than I have actual relationships with human beings but I don't belong in SAA.

Rewind to 4 years ago.  I was working at the switchboard of the hospital and something was shared via a colleague.  It was a call Mental Health First Aide certification training.  I was intrigued.  I looked it up on the NAMI website and I was hooked.  I took the full day training and it opened my eyes.  The certification was good for 3 years and I'm due to go to another training - I even got my group at work to bring the training to the hospital but was unable to make it.  I've kept an eye on their site but nothing was in my area.

Last year, I found a 2 day training that NAMI was having for a Support Group Facilitator certification.  It was on the weekend so I didn't have to take time off from work.  I signed up and I was so excited.  My therapist was excited because he is on the front lines of knowing how helpful something like this in our area would be and how badly it's needed.  I couldn't make it.  I say I was sick that weekend, but honestly it was my Dark Passenger that took over and I was not functional enough.  Looking back on it now, I was really struggling a lot and wasn't reaching out for help at all.

Anyways, that isn't the point of this post.  Over the past year I have managed to find ways to deal with my mind.  2 weeks ago, I got an email from the coordinator for NAMI in my area, alerting me to another facilitator training being held in BELFAST!!!!  I fell on the sword of my supervisor and she was able to get the time scheduled for me to go.  I get 8 hours of education time for conferences/trainings so I didn't lose out on pay or have to use my vacation time.

I loved it!! I have learned so much that I can't wait to share.  I am ready to hit the ground running.  

Wish me luck!

Sympathy For Dorothy

Lately 

I feel like a house has been dropped on me

But the problem is 

That it's my house

All the problems that I keep putting away 
For the sake of maintaining a mask

Are the whirlwind
Longing for solitude
Yet always on a quest for connection

My head is filled with thoughts like Flying Monkeys 

On orders to seek and destroy

Me

Wishing the clicking of my heels that 
I've tried a multitude of times would reset everything

Waking to find the hell to be just a dream

There's no Lollipop Guild

And I just want my Auntie Em

~Cynicallovebird

Fucking Fuck

People always say that they look up to me, I guess I'm just more successful than they are at being a people person because I remember things that I learned when I was a kid. 

If it doesn't belong to you, don't touch it.
If you don't like something, you are perfectly capable of saying so without being an asshole about it.
If you get offended by something, it's perfectly fine to state your opinion about it, but talking about a problem without proposing a solution is whining. 
Whining get you nowhere and makes you look like a jackass.

I'm a tad frustrated at the moment.  The first time in months that I actually have something to say and I turn on my computer, only to find that half the keys on the keyboard aren't working and that all of my pictures are missing.  Fortunately I have a keyboard that I was able to plug in and use and the dear friend who helped me "fix" my other computer problem completely backed up my pictures on his drive so nothing important has been lost.  I wish there was an easier solution to fix my brain.

I've stopped drinking.  I've stopped fucking around.  The latter is a different post entirely, but the point I'm getting at is that I stopped doing all the things that were keeping me together.  I, at the moment, am a broken vase. 

I don't know what it is with love that makes me freak out so much.  I've never had it really;  but the mere thought of it growing up would make my throat tighten to the point of a full on allergic reaction to human relationships. 

I'm in therapy.  My anxiety has been through the roof.  This time of year does things to me.  Nothing fun.  He wants me to start medication other than PRN, but I can't do it.  Pre-2016 I could manage. Which also goes to say that pre-trauma; pre- my entire world turned into a psychopath's pretty human skin suit dress, I was fucked up, but I managed. 

This afternoon I spend 3 hours finally cleaning my basement that I haven't touched since it flooded 3 years ago.  There's a lot of crap there that I am throwing out and it's kind of nice to find things that I knew I wanted to start enjoying again.  I talked my son into cooking dinner which was nice.  I was way to tired to move after that.  I'm watching the movie "Love Actually" for the first time.  Several coworkers and my best friend that I miss dearly (hello, Matt) consider it to be one of the best Christmas movies in existance.  I have avoided it, of course.  I was damned if I was going to watch something about love.  *Also coming from the woman whose favorite movie line up includes mostly RomComs*.  I was sitting here in my angry, cynical, fuck everything usualness, and then I had to pause to watch the movie.  And I love it.  Of course I do. 

I've found that despite all the cynical overlay in the core of my being, there is something in me that has opened up.  I'm becoming quite a sap lately.  I'm more excited for Christmas this year than I have in about 5 years.  I'm sharing my feelings and my life with people and I'm starting to allow relationships that I never thought I'd want to have.  Without going into details at the moment, I'm finding that my life has the makings of an interesting RomCom story myself. 

I had surgery.  I made it through despite some complications.  It's been a long 2 month journey. I had to relearn how to talk and swallow but I am.  My voice doesn't sound like a cartoon character anymore and I am eating again. 

Before Thanksgiving, my therapist gave me homework.  To think about 3 overdeveloped coping mechanisms and 2 underdeveloped ones.  To think about them, talk about them, write about them.  I have mulled them over in my head.  I'd love nothing more than to say that nothing came to mind, but then I'd be a liar.  And a liar, I am not.  I'm working on it.  I'll get there eventually. 

Maybe I'll find some gold  to fill in my cracks like they do in Japan to their broken vases in the meantime.

Needful Things

I don't need to be in a relationship to be happy,
but if I'm being honest for a minute;

it feels a hell of a lot better to have your open wounds
kissed by someone who doesn't treat the things wrong with you
as if they are disasters to be avoided.
My needful things are not to be dismissed.

And besides, 
someone needs to hold my purse as I put out my fires.

~ Cynicallovebird

Fumbling For Words

My heart is a messy bedroom I never take the time to clean.
The walls look as thick as an iceberg,
but if you take a closer look, 

you'll see they're actually papier mâché.
I like my body the best when I'm not worried about how much space it's taking up.
I've never been this myself around anyone.
It's freaking me out a little.

Sometimes my mind is as serene as my camp on Toddy Pond.
Other days, it's Thunder Hole.
Filled with crashing thoughts so loud I can't hear anything else.
You went into this knowing I was a total creep,
don't quit on me now.

Sometimes all I can say is "Hey", 
and when I say "Hey",
I mean I adore you.
And when I say that I adore you,
I mean I will check your horoscope.

Everyone loves to tell me to
"Trust my gut", 
But the truth is that most days my anxiety
Blocks out the sun
And my gut is begging me to abort mission.

I know you don't know this,
but there are balloons that you carry in your laughter
and I like them better than flowers.
And flowers are something that I don't understand 
unless they're still in the ground 
because how on Earth would you love a gift 
of something that's going to die?

So, I just blew on my ice cream.
Apparently, my brain thinks it needs to be colder.
And as I was contemplating that thought process,
I also blew on the following spoonful.

Sometimes I feel like the world is spinning out of control 
and then suddenly there's one face;
your face,
saying one word that makes it all stop.
The mind that is busier than the streets of New York and Tokyo combined
Just.  Stops.
And then the spinning becomes more like a dance move.
And I'm no longer fumbling for words because we understand the steps of the Tango.

Hey.
I'm a Pisces, how about you?

The Caterpillar

Happiness turned to me and said - "It is time.  It is time to forgive yourself for all of the things you did not become.  It is time to exonerate yourself for all of the people you couldn't save, for all of the fragile hearts you fumbled with in the dark of your confusion.  It is time, child, to accept that you don't have to be who you were a year ago, that you do not have to want the same things.  Above all else, it is time to believe, with reckless abandon, that you are worthy of me, for I have been waiting for years."

Last summer, I saw this meme:

2016:  The Caterpillar
2017:  The Cocoon
2018:  The Butterfly

I remember saying FUCK YES and saving it to my phone the second I saw it on my Instagram feed.  Three months ago I was so done being a Caterpillar.  To me, "becoming a Butterfly", meant that I'd finally overcome all the trauma, my finances were more in order and I'd be back 100% to loving my body as much as I used to.  That I would finally be on speaking terms with the Universe again because I could trust.  Becoming a Butterfly meant that I'd reached the end of my tunnel.  That the light wasn't just some moron with a magnifying glass.  So when the clock struck 12 on New Year's Eve - I was asleep - but the next morning I awake exclaiming "This is it!  My bullshit free year has begun.  I've paid my dues and I'm going to finally be a Butterfly!"

But that's not exactly what happened.....

I had no "Great Awakening".  My bruises from 2016 - or any resurfacing from childhood - didn't magically heal.  My health didn't instantly get better.  My stress level could still knock over a horse.  I didn't wake up on the first day of 2018 without the urge to spend every dollar in my wallet on the useless stuff at Target or fitting into the pants I've been holding onto for years.  Instead, I woke up the same person I was the day before.  A little more hopeful, perhaps, but the same old Jessie that existed the day before.

If the last few months have taught me anything, it's that the great awakening that I've been busting my ass for isn't going to happen.  At least not like I've hoped.  I've had many "awakenings" in my life, moments I learned hard lessons or experienced deep healing, but none of them completely transformed me into the flawless and perfect human I desperately wanted to be.

I'm not at all saying that I'm the same person that I used to be.  I'm definitely a stronger, more resilient, more real and more vulnerable version of myself.  I'm proud of who I've become!  I'm not perfect, nor do I ever want to be.  

And instead of looking for the light at the end of the tunnel, I've learned to be ok inside that tunnel and to create my own light.  

What if instead of waiting to evolve into Butterflies, we mold our world around the fact that we might remain a Caterpillar forever?  

What if we never get "there", but wherever we end up is good enough?

I think I might always be a Caterpillar.  Life will always be work and there will always be things that I can't control. And it's finally becoming ok with me.

Love yourself.  You're the only one you've got.
Be good to each other.

~ Cynicallovebird

The Glued On Smile

Every single time that I feel the rain of okay and it's tiny miniscule drops, I find myself treading in gallons of not okay and I end up just drowning in exhausted frustration.

If glitter is the herpes of the craft world, then mental illness is the glitter of the Healthcare Community. Hollywood absolutely loves it, but everyone is expected to clean up their own mess.

It's forcing yourself to find the capability to help a child that you can't even help because you don't even know how to help yourself.

It's adjustments; it's exasperated crying in the bathroom alone with every milestone that you never thought you would even hit, and then binge eating cookies when next week that milestone shows itself as the first step on Kilimanjaro.

It's dealing with a monster inside of your own mind that you don't know how to tame and then the next minute your child is the monster.

It's the I'm sorry that I'm late the 10th time but we couldn't find the other purple shoe and she just couldn't wear the black ones and yes, I understand that she's 16.

It's the you driving yourself crazy every second of every day feeling and looking and sounding exactly like a drill sergeant only this isn't the army and you aren't getting paid for any of it.

it's a hell that you've created with your own body.

It's being the most sarcastic person on the planet with the child that has the mind of a scientist and you're damn right that we're going to dance in the grocery store aisle for no reason.

It's knowing when to pick up the expensive stuff that she'll eat when she's having a crappy day because you know damn well she isn't going to eat anything else.

It's the drowning in not okay with exhausted frustration until you are bombarded with a huge wave of hope that brings you to the dry land.

But some days, there's a drought.

Happy Fucking Holidays....A Rant, of Sorts.

Let's start from the beginning and state for the record, that I have shed more tears in the last 2 weeks in December than I have in an entire year.

It all started on the 15th.  I had a 3 day weekend.  I started it, by breaking down in tears in the office of my daughter's doctor;  trying to get the point across that, when I say that if I am not there prompting her constantly to do things, it doesn't happen.  Because I did what she suggested for an entire week;  and NOTHING happened.  She didn't go to school for 5 days.  She didn't shower for over a week.  She didn't change her clothes. She didn't get out of bed.  She didn't eat.  I feel like I have tried everything that I possibly can, and nothing is working.

Fast forward to Saturday.  I got a new dryer.  That was fantastic.  It was not fantastic however, that my house was a disaster and it was the first time in almost 2 years since I have had a man in my house other than my son and my dad.  Leading to the food for thought:  who dates someone for 18 months and doesn't even flinch at the fact that they've never invited you over to their house?  The story behind that is for a different post;  long story short, it was very bad for my anxiety.  I made my son go to the town dump with me and he did it.  Every single thing I asked him to do all weekend long had to start with a 5 to 10 minute lecture and screaming fit about it first (on his part, not mine.).  My daughter barely got out of bed.  Nothing got done around the house because I had no energy to do it.  I was in so much pain I could barely stand.  The day before, I had it in my head all day long to check the oil tank and call for a delivery because they delivered M, W, F in my area and I didn't.  I checked it when I was downstairs and low and behold, I was almost out and if I called them I didn't think I was going to have enough until they delivered Wednesday.  My sister called me to chat out of the blue and I was just done with the day already.  I told her what was going on, and she said for Christmas that she would give me $100 in oil and that she would call and have it delivered.  I burst into tears.

Onto Sunday.  Still no kids participating in life, let alone basic human decency.  It was my son's potluck and Yankee swap for Boy Scouts that night and he was on edge making sure that we had all the ingredients to make the mac and cheese that we signed up to bring.  He was acting like a 50 year old impatient man of the house from a stereotypical sitcom set in the 70's.  By the time rolled around to bring him, I was so fed up with the universe that I dropped him off and left.  The second my tires hit my driveway, I was swimming in hatred for my life.  By the time I called my aunt and she answered the phone, I was drowning in tears of frustration and sadness.  What parent genuinely hates their kids?  At that moment, I sure as hell did.  I sat in my car for an hour in the freezing cold, bawling like a someone who just watched their dog get run over.  Because that is what happened:  I wake up with a little cloud of hope, and some jackass always seems to find suck all the air right out of it.  I called my dad and asked him to get my son and bring him home.  I didn't want to see another person on the planet.  I went to bed and stayed there until work.

Monday came and I tried to keep my hate and discontent to myself.  I made it through the day without swearing at anyone.  My son called me after he got home like he always does.  To tell me....wait for it:

that he had just taken the bottles back (a never-ending battle in my house...and they get to keep the fucking money if they do it!).  And asked me if there was anything else that he wanted me to do.

When I got home, I was greeted with a hug.  All the clean laundry that I had done was brought upstairs and the clean dishes in the sink were put away.  He said he had let the dog out like he was supposed to.

The whole night was like I was in the Twilight Zone.  He asked me how to show him how to work the new dryer, so I did.  I also showed him how to work the washing machine.  Then he proceeded swap laundry three times.  Now make no mistake, I am not complaining.  It's just that we have lived in our house since 2009, and every time I have tried to show him how to use the washing machine, he says he can't remember how the next time I ask him to do it.  WE HAVE THE SAME FUCKING WASHING MACHINE....  Then he was super impressed with the dinner that I made.  And he made me a cake....by himself, not asking me for a single thing....just reading the directions on the box.  And shoveled the porch off.  And then, he put the Christmas tree up all by himself.

I was so busy googling which alien species might have taken over his corpse that I couldn't even enjoy the moment.

Thursday at work was fantastic.  It was the Yankee Swap at work and I got a $20 certificate to the local casino and we snacked throughout the day.  I made sugar scrubs and lotions out of coconut oil and a coworker ordered some off of me.  I ended up making a bunch and selling it to other people, made almost $100.  We closed early and barely had any patients that day.  That evening it was the Star Wars:  The Last Jedi premier.  It was amazing.  If you haven't seen it yet, YOU MUST!!!  It was like the Super Bowl, but for nerds.  Jesse was over the moon that he got his picture taken with both a Storm Trooper and Darth Vader.  John had picked up tickets for Jesse and I to go to a different showing than the one that he was going to with his ex wife, her husband and their oldest daughter to avoid "conflict".  Don't get me wrong, I get it....but I also don't.  Again, another post.

And then on the way home, my son;  who regularly pushes me to date/get married/find him a dad, but doesn't really talk about his own, asked me questions about his dad.  As fate would have it, I was talking with my therapist about this very same thing happening the day before.  I answered his questions, not really knowing where he was going with this;  and then he says "You do realize that you just gave me everything I need."  I asked him to clarify.  He made it clear that the information that I gave him was all the information that he would need to find him on the internet.  The person that he has not seen since he was 3 years old.  11 years ago.  The person who was court ordered in our divorce to maintain contact with them via phone twice a week if I was to allow visitation, and hasn't called since 2009.  The person who has not once given me a penny of child support.  I slowed my brain down a tad, and just made him promise me that he would not do anything like that until he was 18.  And he promised.  And we left it alone.

The next day, was all planned out, or so I thought.

I was supposed to go to Bangor, do my Christmas shopping for the kids and then go home, get ready to go to my grandparents, and have a great evening.  I had worked a couple of extra shifts that were supposed to give me overtime for Christmas.  What really happened, is that I woke up to half a pay check in my direct deposit.  Upon calling the payroll department to find out why, apparently the coworker that my manager assigned to update payroll when it was due didn't read my slip and 2 days didn't get factored in, and I was missing a bunch of vacation time.  She wasn't sure that they could get it corrected in time to cut me a check, and I was beside myself most of the day.  I went to Bangor and shopped for my son's stuff and some random things that I could think of.  My daughter just wants money.  She doesn't know what she wants until she actually sees it.

Things eventually worked out, I found some cute stuff and everything on my son's list at Home Depot came in under $50.  I got home, carved up the ham and put it in the crock pot.  My aunt was planning to meet the kids and I at the waterfront gazebo to take our pictures for cards and other things, but I couldn't find the battery charger to my camera.  Then the kids wouldn't wear what I wanted them to wear.  And it was freezing cold.  They were miserable, my daughter wouldn't smile because I wouldn't let her wear her hair in a scarf because I love it when it's combed out.  And then, when we got something that was good enough, my son locked the keys to the car in it.  We waited outside in the freezing cold for 27 minutes before the garage that was 10 minutes up the road could show up.

 I got to my grandparents in one piece and in a relatively good mood.  Hanging out with my mom's side of the family always puts me at ease.  Aside from the exception that my mother was not there.  That too, is another post.

I love my dog, dearly.  However, he seems to operate under the belief that it's his sole duty to be the most disgusting animal on the planet.  On the way home from my grandparents house, the crock pot was not put in the back of the car right and it fell over, spilling ham and pineapple all through the back.  When I got home, I did my best to clean it out, throwing it all off to the side of our driveway and the crock pot fell out of the car and the drippings got all over the driveway.  The kids go to the house and let the Jack out, and he immediately bee lined it for the ham mess before I could see him.  He rolled in it like it was the best thing ever.  Then, he picked up a piece of ham almost the size of his head and thought he'd play "my precious" with it while I chased him all over the yard with it.  I was finally able to entice him with a smaller piece that I "traded him" in order to get him back in the house.  He ate it on the dining room rug, and then proceeded to roll himself on the rug before I could get to him.  I had to pick him up, grease-ball and all, to give him a bath - which he loves, by the way.  He gets himself as disgusting as possible, and jumps into the bath tub grinning from ear to ear.

I get up Saturday, again, with a plan.  It was going to be great.  I ran to Belfast to grab my check and get it deposited.  My son had breakfast one on one and it was fun as always.  I had ordered prints online for my step dad for my siblings "covert operation" for our Christmas present to him.  You see, my mom had taken all of the family photos with her when they divorced and they used to be all over the walls.  So I, got the idea that my siblings and I would get an 8x10 picture of our own families taken and framed, and that I would sneak over to his house and hang them up when we were all over at my brother's celebrating.  I get to the Bangor Walmart, and the kiosk is completely closed.  I flagged down an employee who said they couldn't help me because all the systems were down.  Even though my pictures were probably sitting in one of the drawers.  I was upset, but it was not the end.  Again, I am determined to make a great day.  I called Brewer Walmart to see if their systems were working.  "Yes, absolutely.  Come on over", said the representative who was working AT THE PICTURE KIOSK.  I get there, fortunately I had the pictures that I ordered on my phone also, so I hook it up and place my order for the 1 hour photos.  I do my shopping and get to the checkout isle.  My card is declined.  Weird, I had just deposited a check that was drafted from an account AT THAT SAME BANK.  I call the branch on Broadway that is usually open until 4, no answer.  I said screw it and decided to drive back to Bangor to discuss this with them - it's 2pm by that time.  I show up at the branch, and it's closed.  I proceed to completely break down in front of my son.  I called my sister to tell her what was going on.  I was ready to just give up and go home.  She wired me $200 via Western Union - both of our banks were closed, insisting that I don't give up and trying to do everything that she could to help me all the way from Virginia.  That money wasn't made available in my account until Wednesday.  I get back to the Brewer Walmart, I get to customer service where they were holding my stuff for me and I paid for it.  Then I get up to the back of the store where the picture kiosk is.  There is a line halfway through the store to that desk, and one person is telling everyone that because they were so backed up, that our pictures were going to print sometime during the week and that they would call us when they were finished.  I didn't get home until 4:30 and I was supposed to be at my brother's at any time.  I got there at 6.  The rest of the night was good.  It was the first time that both of my dads were celebrating a holiday together.  My mother was not there.  No call. No text.  Absent;  like a shadow you can feel in the back of your mind when you're watching a suspense thriller.  Like that dark secret you try to figure out the heroin has.  I did my best to ignore it and move on with the day.  I got stuck in my brother's driveway and had to be pulled out of his ditch by my brother and dad.

I worked Christmas Eve.  That was a nice break from the chaos.  Christmas day the kids were happy with what I got them.  We stayed home.  It was quiet.  Nothing went wrong for a change.

But there's my daughter, who is going on week 2 with no shower.

Oh 2017, I am so glad to leave you right where you are.