This grief, depression, whatever it is,
Has been weighing me down for days.
I try to move to shake it off
But it just wants to stay.
It’s been fed by trauma
And many have I had
Lately my life seems to be
Less good and more bad.
So now I just sit here
And feel life slipping by
Not caring, full of apathy
Only managing to cry
Waiting for this wave to crest
To ride it back to shore
Because I still have hope
There are still good days in store.
Now the seasons are running down
Cooler weather has come to town.
Soon the trees will be colored brightly
And windows will be opened nightly.
To let the cold air of fall inside
And under blankets and quilts, we’ll hide.
Then comes the night when once a year
Children dress to cause terror and fear
They parade around the neighborhoods
To collect all sorts of goody-goods.
They mingle with other witches and monsters
There’s no way to tell the real from imposters.
Then when they are all tucked in tight
And their dreams are filled of creepy delights
Do the goblins and witches fly away home
To wait another twelve months to roam.
I’ve been trying to write this post for about a week now. I feel like it is vital for me to talk about and yet I feel like what happened to me isn’t as horrible as what many other women have experienced. On the other hand, I think it’s important not to downplay what happened either. A couple of weeks ago I had to cut all ties with the neighbor who helped my mom and me out so much for past four years. I had been riding a merry-go-round with him for the past several years of turning down his advances towards me. He’s married to his third wife and would often express his desires to be more than friends, and I would always tell him, “No.” He would try to rationalize it by saying things to me like, “You know, you wouldn’t be the first woman to be someone’s mistress.” Or “I’m not going another year without sex.” Or the day he brought me his copy of “The Joy of Sex” which I promptly handed back to him. My stance on the subject never wavered for a moment, and it frustrated him. One day he told me how once he wanted something he never stopped until he got his way. Maybe I should have cut ties with him then, but he helped us. And I was so burnt out taking care of my mom by myself; I let him help. I was grateful for the help. Grateful to have someone who understood my point of view and was willing to be there for us at the drop of a hat. But even silver linings cast shadows. And I was willing to ignore the shadowy side of our relationship until what I’m not very creatively calling “The Incident.” He had come over to help me with something, and before he left, he decided that it was ok to pull me to him and forcibly kiss me. I posted a poem about the incident a few days after it happened. It was shocking and as I struggled against him and kept saying, “No!” it didn’t matter. But that wasn’t the worst part. Before he left, he turned back around to me and looked me dead in the eye and just said, “Yes.” Then he turned and left. At that moment, I knew I had to cut ties. But going about life alone scared me to no end. I felt so overwhelmed by the idea since I’ve always had some kind of help to get me through tough times. I didn’t sleep for days weighing the situation. But it always kept going back to having to protect me from him. That kiss shattered all the illusions I had been wearing like blinders. I had talked myself into the idea that if I told him “No” enough times, he would stop. If I reasoned with him enough, he would see the situation from my side. But there is no reasoning with him. He wants what he wants, and I know now that how I feel about it and how it would affect his wife, should she find out about it, didn’t mean anything to him. Fast forward six days when he came over to weed the garden as nothing had ever happened. I went out onto the porch and told him that I had found someone to do that. He simply said, “Very well.” and left. I haven’t seen him since, and that was almost two weeks ago.
Facing the world alone for the first time in 46 years has, as I said before, overwhelming. I’ve been waking up early in the morning having anxiety attacks over this. But I’ve also made great strides in finding the help I need around the house which has bolstered my confidence. But dealing with my neighbor’s assault while continuing to mourn my mom and deal with the loneliness I’ve been feeling has left me emotionally drained. Throw in the failing health of my older cat, and it has me just wanting to pull the covers over my head and hide. Hide from the suffocating weight of everything that is going on. It’s just too much for my heart and my spirit to take. I’m trying to move forward with what I want to do with my life, but it’s hard doing that while dragging around all this emotional baggage. That’s why my posting of original content has kind of slowed down, I’ve been dealing with all this other stuff in my life, and it’s sapped my creativity. There have been days over the past couple of weeks where it’s all I can do just to take care of my pets and myself. But I’m working through it, and I just have to be patient with myself and listen to what my heart needs and continue to work on what I need to get past all the recent trauma I’ve experienced.
My dog is malfunctioning
I’ve noticed it outside
I don’t know how to describe it
Or if it can be classified.
I throw him the ball, and he runs
And catches up with it.
And then instead of bringing it back
He plops his butt down and sits.
He never brings the ball back
It’s a skill he sorely lacks.
While I’m running back and forth
He just seems to relax.
So it’s time to face the facts folks
Denial cannot be spoken
The poodle in him works just fine
But the retriever is definitely broken.
I originally posted this back in January. It’s how I’m feeling today, so here ya go. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go take a certain Goldendoodle outside… again. lol
At my desk working away and he’s there.
Head on my lap looking up at me
His big brown eyes stare into my soul.
They plead. He whines.
I know what he wants
But a deadline looms large over me.
Ignoring the warming weight on my leg
I try to concentrate.
But the rhythmic thumping of his tail distracts me.
I sigh, get up, grab his leash, and head outside
With him happily dashing ahead of me.
What can I say, I’ve been puppy whipped.
I returned to the medical building today where I had taken my mother so many times. It was the first time I had been back there since my mom passed away and, as I walked along the curved sidewalk, I was overwhelmed by memories of pushing her wheelchair towards the door. I felt like her ghost was everywhere as I walked inside. I could still see her waiting in the lobby while I went to get the car. Or in the laboratory waiting room, fretting that her wheelchair was blocking the walkway. I was not prepared for how sharp the dull ache in my heart would feel.
‘Twas the vinegar that tippeth Toward the leftover quiche Oh, lonely empty bottle, recycler boon When sun meets to kiss moon— And mustard, your yellows bold A bit old, but still at play— Mummified lime, plastic lined Awaits blessed water of the fizzy kind— Four salad dressings, Daughters of the virgin oil— Bright Wednesday’s sauce […]
via Emily Dickinson’s Refrigerator — Elan Mudrow