Somewhere I have never travelled
gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence;
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me
or which I cannot touch because they are too near.
Your slightest look will easily enclose me
though I have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal
myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose.
Or if your wish be to close me, and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere decending
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility; whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not kno what it is about you that closes and opens;
only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
Nobody, not even the ran has such small hands.
E.E. Cummings
I have no idea why, but this is my favorite love poem. E.E. Cummings is definitely one of my favorite poets. I've been trying to figure out what is so inspiring about this poem to me, but the reasons continually change yet are always valid. When I first read it today it just made me feel beautiful, filled with memories from the not so distant past and the past that seems a lifetime ago. A smile crossed my face. Finally, actions were made that produced both positive and assertive firsts. Releasing control of whatever imaginary security blanket that I have been clutching and finally allowing myself to express myself with a vulnerability and sensitivity that is not familiar. It is hard to assert which made me feel like I am coming back into myself, yet others were a lifetime firsts. While, as with any request, one may hope for a particular answer, it felt like a leap of faith to leave myself exposed to their bidding. It is also a loving warmth that encircles me to announce that those words are a loose quote of what a dear friend had to tell me this morning. When the pleasantness and loving memories did not fade throughout the day, that felt like a personal victory of a goal I thought I would never reach.
Then I drifted back to my babies. Joy! Today was the first day that they came to my mind and I did not have to take a second breath before I finished my thoughts. Lost in thought, closing my eyes for a moment and I saw all four of them playing together all happy, healthy in the most beautiful garden. I opened my eyes and realized they are in a better place than me so I should be happy and that brought such relief! You know that the mourning never ends, but there is the day when the pain is no longer sharp and stabbing. Time wounds all heals. That is so true, but if it were false it wouldn't be a cliche.
The last verse rang strong in my ears with a resonance that was almost deafening in my internal screams for freedom. The better part of this year was spent in major mourning for the baby I lost six months ago today. If I could have gone instead, I would have done anything to let that new life live and in those moments of praying for strength, leaning on the people I trust not to exploit my grief and so many prayers, my intense fragility is fading and enthusiastically, I am beginning to replace this drone version of me that I absolutely hate. To me, once that feeling of life implanted in me was first felt, that rose did have the petals that controlled my life, right down to the things I did wrong to cope, the men I chose to keep company for the last 14 years and so many irrational, stupid things that were said and done that I can never take back. The embarrassment that I brought to myself and the degradation I had felt I deserved listening to the very sick words of very sick people. And finally - the acceptance that I am the orphan of living parents.
When I first found out about my infertility I was 19, dreadfully ashamed and it seemed as if my femininity in and of itself were destroyed by a nuclear bomb. This year I spent my birthday thinking those same thoughts. Halfway to my next, it feels as if it is a triumph that I have hopes, dreams and clean, honest feelings for people who are kind and loving. What really hurt was when not only did my own limitations once again arise, but complications of standing for myself to an adult bully and an overtly rude "friend" who believed someone I hadn't talked to in months and knew nothing, that the situation was not real while at the same time the idiot whom I chose to share myself with was bragging about inducing the miscarriage so he would not have to pay child support. I still cannot bring myself to dial her number or send her an email. I cried in the cold, feeling as frigid as the frozen lake that not only am I incomplete, but they deem me a liar? I have the medical reports... what? My mother's husband did not understand the emergency and my father's response was I couldn't be his daughter because only evil women lose children. I must belong to Mike Metoxin. My mom, who doesn't remember hearing that she lost her grandchild, just says don't listen to them. How do you do that when you feel empty, naked, fragile? I felt as if what man would love me now that I am categorized high risk and peri-menopausal. Who would want me? So for years I let myself stay with an alcoholic and drug addict with bi-polar disorder. Great guy, bad boyfriend, now someone else's problem. When I called when I realized I had no one to console me that is who I dialed and while the conversation was brief and it was not his child, he told me, "Not another one of our children," and after a week of feeling that life fade, talking to my belly that was no longer filled - I was not alone in the pain of it. How much more intense fragility can a person handle? So much more apparently. lol I am so grateful to the few people that didn't desert me when I was the most obnoxious, spoiled and bitchy than I've been in so long and even moreso to the people who helped me through immediately following the most harrowing experience thus far this year, and hopefully the last. Surprisingly, not the friends who were mothers themselves, though. They just looked with dead eyes and a blank stare and say well I've never experienced that, it wasn't meant to be, were you even pregnant, you must have done something wrong. Yeah, I genetically altered the shape of my eggs so they don't stick to my uterine lining on purpose you fucking asshole! Logically, a woman understands that most are simply relating that they cannot share the depth of your experience yet try to say the right thing (which is always a hug and a sincere, I am so sorry for your loss. Call me if you need to talk because I might not be able to understand completely, but you always have my ear), but seriously you have children. You know that fear when something is wrong and you do not know that you can fix it, or worse know that you have failed to protect that child. It sears as it burns a hole through your heart and as you basque in your own disbelief of your fortune, that part of your soul takes a journey back to Heaven and playfully waits to greet you. The latter portion is the sugar on the medicine that you have to swallow or succumb to.
Over the last few months, I learned even to marry ( yes - the ultra bitch, irregardless of how many failed pregnancies, relationships and whatever you want to add still has hope) the perfect guy, considering my health, income, work status and so many other inquiries I will never qualify to adopt an American child from an adoption agency at birth. Options equivocate to take the risk and handle complete bed rest from conception and hospitalization or hoping a mother deserts her child to foster care for you to take the droppings. I'm ok with that though because I know I have enough love in my heart to love a child that is not mine. I had ordered the paperwork on a desperate day when I must have thought I could manifest that baby back and when it came in the mail it broke my heart in two that may be my only option and would even the perfect man accept that? Women can make due because that is what we do, but men do not see the inability to spread their genetic make up as a perk in most cases. So many women I have talked to in the last decade were deserted by husbands who gave them shots in the ass to hopefully surge their hormones for a successful pregnancy because of their motivation alone. I have nothing against foster care, but being told I cannot have a child unless God decides to bless you with a miracle all you do is pray, just one good pregnancy and produce a child with hopefully my favorite features of her father and hopefully she's as cute, intelligent and charismatic as a child and of course, better behaved. lol Or him. I don't really care (but I've always wanted a girl... hehehe). To be told that was gone and then see the "Plan B" envelope in the mail was just too much to bare. Well, along with a long ago sketch of myself from an 8th grade boyfriend (yeah I'm a sap) flopped out this thick padded envelope. Now, when I saw that fall in my lap amongst the pile of medical bills was the once envelope of dread, but hints of a new mystery and adventure ahead. There are still many insecurities running through my mind, but it feels good to finally have some sort of traction on this slippery slope that can so quickly crash and burn.
I am also so proud of myself - I finally told my mother no... Actually, telling anyone no is probably a good thing right now, because there are very few things I am waiting to say yes to. I told her that I will not be assisting on her move to Belize and it felt so damn awesome! It was invigorating and confidence restoring to finally tell the daffy woman to shove it. Her husband has made her miserable, contemptuous, argumentative, mean, encourages her alcoholism and dependence on mood elevating drugs, lost over a million dollars in real estate (not including my property), her business, her family. So many of these behaviors are contagious and I am not happy with who I become when I am near it with either one of my parents. The bitterness feels as if its injected from some sort of spiritual depletion system. I have been fighting to grow and become the woman I was not on the way to becoming. That isn't right at all. Just that simple act in and of itself was the somewhere I have never traveled gladly beyond any experience throughout this journey of cleansing and reclamation that 2011 has been.
I am excited that there is one quarter left to this year and so much of the weight on my shoulders will just be tucked away in filing drawers one way or another before the end of it (and hopefully I am not celebrating alone... AGAIN). I have hopes that I will have loving arms to crawl into this time next year. Its time that I had the guy that not only treats me with respect in all manners of speaking, but also treats himself with respect. I love having someone to share myself with and love with as much love as I have, but it has been a long time since that has happened and I am so tired of waiting. It is to the point that my pleas of wanting more love in my life is almost a joke and I'm the "casual" girl. If I could only kick the bitch in the cunt that spread that one around! I have enough insecurities, but I have never been unfaithful or cruel. I know this gal never understood that incredibly dysfunctional relationship that she bases so many of her lies from, but she is so jealous and green with envy I feel bad for her (even though I want to kick her). I have been through hell and back time and time again and I guard my heart. Especially while it is healing from an authentic break. Shame on that woman. Shame, Shame, Shame! On the flip side, I am no longer ashamed of it. It is what the mistro composed to make me the complex symphony that I am. Long, drawn out, climatic, patterned, bridged, flawed at points, gorgeous in my own right. That fog is lifting from my heart and not even an arch-nemisis that needs to worry more about obtaining her GED so she can work at McDonald's than my sex life, or the not unloving, but self-centered parents who never stop fighting to make me as angry and obtuse as they are.
In hindsight, I can see why it was not the right time for every loss or mistake. Mistakes evolved the unconditional trust I had for certain people I thought were impenetrable in their integrity, what chaos I created by demanding to love people who either did not love me or are not capable of what I had wanted because of where they wanted to be. While I may be concerned and are keeping them in my prayers, it feels so wonderful to finally say no, although there are a few things I would like to say yes to. lol. The one thing that was a disappointment was when Mommie Dearest did not let me get to the point where I told her I still wanted to see her and spend time with her because she had already called me every name in the book and hung up. I just pray that she will understand the why behind my decision, but I am not going to expect reflective insight from the woman who trained me to ignore it and keep going on as if it isn't happening to the point that between all of the screaming and endless hours of work to just be unavailable sometimes and never, ever say what happens here. As an adult, I know that in and of itself is abuse and she was not protecting our reputation, but limiting the resources we needed to get help. My father had warped her mind for so many years, so many terrible, terrible things. I pray every day for her sobriety and to know love before she passes, but she prays to never wake up every time she goes to sleep. While I may have learned to say no once, I need to remember to repeat it and often. I hope she knows kindred spirits like the ones that surround me, albeit not always in my local area, but they are a phone call away. I hope she knows what it is like to love and be loved by a man that does not touch you inappropriately or constantly preach an incomprehensible drug induced psychosis gospel that only he believes as truth with her being a little mocking bird to all of the gibberish for as long as they will stay with her. . All that shoving the abuse, emotions and discontent under the rug did was make fry my nerves to the point that I could not breathe inside my life because I was suffocated by the black smog of anger and trying to justify and accept responsibility in my heart for others who were unwilling to accept it for themselves.
The only thing I dislike is that I am learning this so late, but maybe on God's watch I'm just on time.
gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence;
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me
or which I cannot touch because they are too near.
Your slightest look will easily enclose me
though I have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal
myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose.
Or if your wish be to close me, and
my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere decending
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility; whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not kno what it is about you that closes and opens;
only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
Nobody, not even the ran has such small hands.
E.E. Cummings
I have no idea why, but this is my favorite love poem. E.E. Cummings is definitely one of my favorite poets. I've been trying to figure out what is so inspiring about this poem to me, but the reasons continually change yet are always valid. When I first read it today it just made me feel beautiful, filled with memories from the not so distant past and the past that seems a lifetime ago. A smile crossed my face. Finally, actions were made that produced both positive and assertive firsts. Releasing control of whatever imaginary security blanket that I have been clutching and finally allowing myself to express myself with a vulnerability and sensitivity that is not familiar. It is hard to assert which made me feel like I am coming back into myself, yet others were a lifetime firsts. While, as with any request, one may hope for a particular answer, it felt like a leap of faith to leave myself exposed to their bidding. It is also a loving warmth that encircles me to announce that those words are a loose quote of what a dear friend had to tell me this morning. When the pleasantness and loving memories did not fade throughout the day, that felt like a personal victory of a goal I thought I would never reach.
Then I drifted back to my babies. Joy! Today was the first day that they came to my mind and I did not have to take a second breath before I finished my thoughts. Lost in thought, closing my eyes for a moment and I saw all four of them playing together all happy, healthy in the most beautiful garden. I opened my eyes and realized they are in a better place than me so I should be happy and that brought such relief! You know that the mourning never ends, but there is the day when the pain is no longer sharp and stabbing. Time wounds all heals. That is so true, but if it were false it wouldn't be a cliche.
The last verse rang strong in my ears with a resonance that was almost deafening in my internal screams for freedom. The better part of this year was spent in major mourning for the baby I lost six months ago today. If I could have gone instead, I would have done anything to let that new life live and in those moments of praying for strength, leaning on the people I trust not to exploit my grief and so many prayers, my intense fragility is fading and enthusiastically, I am beginning to replace this drone version of me that I absolutely hate. To me, once that feeling of life implanted in me was first felt, that rose did have the petals that controlled my life, right down to the things I did wrong to cope, the men I chose to keep company for the last 14 years and so many irrational, stupid things that were said and done that I can never take back. The embarrassment that I brought to myself and the degradation I had felt I deserved listening to the very sick words of very sick people. And finally - the acceptance that I am the orphan of living parents.
When I first found out about my infertility I was 19, dreadfully ashamed and it seemed as if my femininity in and of itself were destroyed by a nuclear bomb. This year I spent my birthday thinking those same thoughts. Halfway to my next, it feels as if it is a triumph that I have hopes, dreams and clean, honest feelings for people who are kind and loving. What really hurt was when not only did my own limitations once again arise, but complications of standing for myself to an adult bully and an overtly rude "friend" who believed someone I hadn't talked to in months and knew nothing, that the situation was not real while at the same time the idiot whom I chose to share myself with was bragging about inducing the miscarriage so he would not have to pay child support. I still cannot bring myself to dial her number or send her an email. I cried in the cold, feeling as frigid as the frozen lake that not only am I incomplete, but they deem me a liar? I have the medical reports... what? My mother's husband did not understand the emergency and my father's response was I couldn't be his daughter because only evil women lose children. I must belong to Mike Metoxin. My mom, who doesn't remember hearing that she lost her grandchild, just says don't listen to them. How do you do that when you feel empty, naked, fragile? I felt as if what man would love me now that I am categorized high risk and peri-menopausal. Who would want me? So for years I let myself stay with an alcoholic and drug addict with bi-polar disorder. Great guy, bad boyfriend, now someone else's problem. When I called when I realized I had no one to console me that is who I dialed and while the conversation was brief and it was not his child, he told me, "Not another one of our children," and after a week of feeling that life fade, talking to my belly that was no longer filled - I was not alone in the pain of it. How much more intense fragility can a person handle? So much more apparently. lol I am so grateful to the few people that didn't desert me when I was the most obnoxious, spoiled and bitchy than I've been in so long and even moreso to the people who helped me through immediately following the most harrowing experience thus far this year, and hopefully the last. Surprisingly, not the friends who were mothers themselves, though. They just looked with dead eyes and a blank stare and say well I've never experienced that, it wasn't meant to be, were you even pregnant, you must have done something wrong. Yeah, I genetically altered the shape of my eggs so they don't stick to my uterine lining on purpose you fucking asshole! Logically, a woman understands that most are simply relating that they cannot share the depth of your experience yet try to say the right thing (which is always a hug and a sincere, I am so sorry for your loss. Call me if you need to talk because I might not be able to understand completely, but you always have my ear), but seriously you have children. You know that fear when something is wrong and you do not know that you can fix it, or worse know that you have failed to protect that child. It sears as it burns a hole through your heart and as you basque in your own disbelief of your fortune, that part of your soul takes a journey back to Heaven and playfully waits to greet you. The latter portion is the sugar on the medicine that you have to swallow or succumb to.
Over the last few months, I learned even to marry ( yes - the ultra bitch, irregardless of how many failed pregnancies, relationships and whatever you want to add still has hope) the perfect guy, considering my health, income, work status and so many other inquiries I will never qualify to adopt an American child from an adoption agency at birth. Options equivocate to take the risk and handle complete bed rest from conception and hospitalization or hoping a mother deserts her child to foster care for you to take the droppings. I'm ok with that though because I know I have enough love in my heart to love a child that is not mine. I had ordered the paperwork on a desperate day when I must have thought I could manifest that baby back and when it came in the mail it broke my heart in two that may be my only option and would even the perfect man accept that? Women can make due because that is what we do, but men do not see the inability to spread their genetic make up as a perk in most cases. So many women I have talked to in the last decade were deserted by husbands who gave them shots in the ass to hopefully surge their hormones for a successful pregnancy because of their motivation alone. I have nothing against foster care, but being told I cannot have a child unless God decides to bless you with a miracle all you do is pray, just one good pregnancy and produce a child with hopefully my favorite features of her father and hopefully she's as cute, intelligent and charismatic as a child and of course, better behaved. lol Or him. I don't really care (but I've always wanted a girl... hehehe). To be told that was gone and then see the "Plan B" envelope in the mail was just too much to bare. Well, along with a long ago sketch of myself from an 8th grade boyfriend (yeah I'm a sap) flopped out this thick padded envelope. Now, when I saw that fall in my lap amongst the pile of medical bills was the once envelope of dread, but hints of a new mystery and adventure ahead. There are still many insecurities running through my mind, but it feels good to finally have some sort of traction on this slippery slope that can so quickly crash and burn.
I am also so proud of myself - I finally told my mother no... Actually, telling anyone no is probably a good thing right now, because there are very few things I am waiting to say yes to. I told her that I will not be assisting on her move to Belize and it felt so damn awesome! It was invigorating and confidence restoring to finally tell the daffy woman to shove it. Her husband has made her miserable, contemptuous, argumentative, mean, encourages her alcoholism and dependence on mood elevating drugs, lost over a million dollars in real estate (not including my property), her business, her family. So many of these behaviors are contagious and I am not happy with who I become when I am near it with either one of my parents. The bitterness feels as if its injected from some sort of spiritual depletion system. I have been fighting to grow and become the woman I was not on the way to becoming. That isn't right at all. Just that simple act in and of itself was the somewhere I have never traveled gladly beyond any experience throughout this journey of cleansing and reclamation that 2011 has been.
I am excited that there is one quarter left to this year and so much of the weight on my shoulders will just be tucked away in filing drawers one way or another before the end of it (and hopefully I am not celebrating alone... AGAIN). I have hopes that I will have loving arms to crawl into this time next year. Its time that I had the guy that not only treats me with respect in all manners of speaking, but also treats himself with respect. I love having someone to share myself with and love with as much love as I have, but it has been a long time since that has happened and I am so tired of waiting. It is to the point that my pleas of wanting more love in my life is almost a joke and I'm the "casual" girl. If I could only kick the bitch in the cunt that spread that one around! I have enough insecurities, but I have never been unfaithful or cruel. I know this gal never understood that incredibly dysfunctional relationship that she bases so many of her lies from, but she is so jealous and green with envy I feel bad for her (even though I want to kick her). I have been through hell and back time and time again and I guard my heart. Especially while it is healing from an authentic break. Shame on that woman. Shame, Shame, Shame! On the flip side, I am no longer ashamed of it. It is what the mistro composed to make me the complex symphony that I am. Long, drawn out, climatic, patterned, bridged, flawed at points, gorgeous in my own right. That fog is lifting from my heart and not even an arch-nemisis that needs to worry more about obtaining her GED so she can work at McDonald's than my sex life, or the not unloving, but self-centered parents who never stop fighting to make me as angry and obtuse as they are.
In hindsight, I can see why it was not the right time for every loss or mistake. Mistakes evolved the unconditional trust I had for certain people I thought were impenetrable in their integrity, what chaos I created by demanding to love people who either did not love me or are not capable of what I had wanted because of where they wanted to be. While I may be concerned and are keeping them in my prayers, it feels so wonderful to finally say no, although there are a few things I would like to say yes to. lol. The one thing that was a disappointment was when Mommie Dearest did not let me get to the point where I told her I still wanted to see her and spend time with her because she had already called me every name in the book and hung up. I just pray that she will understand the why behind my decision, but I am not going to expect reflective insight from the woman who trained me to ignore it and keep going on as if it isn't happening to the point that between all of the screaming and endless hours of work to just be unavailable sometimes and never, ever say what happens here. As an adult, I know that in and of itself is abuse and she was not protecting our reputation, but limiting the resources we needed to get help. My father had warped her mind for so many years, so many terrible, terrible things. I pray every day for her sobriety and to know love before she passes, but she prays to never wake up every time she goes to sleep. While I may have learned to say no once, I need to remember to repeat it and often. I hope she knows kindred spirits like the ones that surround me, albeit not always in my local area, but they are a phone call away. I hope she knows what it is like to love and be loved by a man that does not touch you inappropriately or constantly preach an incomprehensible drug induced psychosis gospel that only he believes as truth with her being a little mocking bird to all of the gibberish for as long as they will stay with her. . All that shoving the abuse, emotions and discontent under the rug did was make fry my nerves to the point that I could not breathe inside my life because I was suffocated by the black smog of anger and trying to justify and accept responsibility in my heart for others who were unwilling to accept it for themselves.
The only thing I dislike is that I am learning this so late, but maybe on God's watch I'm just on time.
