A rosy glow descended buffered by excess food. The peace sustained possessed holes, that of disliking oneself. When my head hits the pillow or my eyes open in the morning, the first feelings of self-despising thoughts are habitually comforting in their discomfort.
Reining in the part inside that craves filling the easy way, numbing by food, remains a constant job that takes daily effort. How easily that is forgotten. Does any addict stop working at it? Day by day, sometimes minute by minute, one has to talk down the anxieties, worries and fears that life may bring.
Numbing it out means numbing out feelings. Well yes, that’s the point. Yet a robot life isn’t much of one. Harshness towards self causes harshness towards others. Open, and allow what is there to shimmer and be shared…
Try not to be afraid of this changing thing called life, never knowing what happens second to second. The what if’s won’t stop. Relax into the moment.
Feed your soul with a food that fills all the cracks; stopping to inhale the sweet scent of the blossoms, tidying the kitchen and preparing a wholesome meal from the garden grilled to perfection over charcoal, or soaking in the sun as it rises over the trees.
Find ways to fill one’s soul in ways that bring meaning to each day, memories to fall asleep to, and adventures to look forward to when waking…
A worm for baby nesting above me in the wisteria vine…
photos by patricia
As the frost melts the mundane tasks of life bring joy. Usually one to start a task then before finishing start another, my scattered brain takes me to a third and a fourth. Slow down! Dammit fucking hell, as the basket drops from the shelf and scissors slip from my hands.
The broken brain is on overload. Slow down, breathe. Taking in air slowly the feel of the metal pan with warm sudsy water is sensed by my fingers and the breeze coming in the window… a caress.
Oh how I’ve missed the sweet joy of just being in my body and noticing the miniscule daily occurrences that bring sweet peace and joy.
It is in the mundane where life excites me; my body and mind at peace so the spirit is free to explore, dream and grow. Oh, how I’ve missed this thing called ‘life’ while forces out of my control took hold and I went someplace else.
Being back home in all ways brings quiet satisfaction and joy.
“Are you sure you want the title to be SHATTERED?” my younger son Cory asks before he begins the design for the cover of my memoir.
Without hesitation I answer, “YES!” No doubts there.
“And the cover. Do you really want drops of blood?” he asks with great skepticism, even sounding critical.
Immediately my answer spills forth, “Yes!” I say with surety, for once without timidness, feeling wrong, or any doubts. Thinking it through a moment my firmness remained.
Although he took every step along the way with me, the first one strong enough to do so, when my feelings were firm about something I stuck to it; a freeing feeling.
Yes, blood drops. What was extracted from me was virgin blood and also a child’s virginity in every way- spiritual, emotional, physical, my innocence and a change in who I was and who I would become. Those drops depict what was taken.
Though Shattered, I am not broken. I may feel broken at times, but the pieces keep coming back into place. They may not make a whole that would have been, but one that is richer. The bumpy surface indicates character and depth, a more beautiful whole in every way.