bright

turning on and off the lights
like lightening strikes
in an inky sky

Palabras

Ah! There you are! I'd been wondering where you'd gone. Tried calling for you, but finding you was way too hard. I thought maybe you had vanished, into a space of time gone by, and that I'd never see you again, and it suited me just fine. A past life. A talent long forgotten. A helpless wandering of a fondness abandoned. Yet here you are, when I need you the least-- a perpetual companion of my mental disease. Search for them, will you? When you see me slipping away. My thoughts come lazily, but my words soar and stray. They betray, the turmoil. They betray the peace. They betray the laughter that serves as a fleece. A covering. A mask, a guide to pretending. All while mending an inside that's writhing and wrenching.

I'm Nobody -- Response

"I'm Nobody -- Who are you?"
I'm somebody who's wholly consumed--
Who's neglected her soul all the way through--
A shell of the woman you once knew.

Unhealthy Obsessions

The more I want you
The more I can't get enough of you
The less I can breath without
It's hard to go on without you.

The more that I have you
The emptier I get when I hold you
The deeper I sink once I see you
The darker I feel when I'm around you.

Empty

I remember when you were all that I wanted-
To experience you for real,
But your subtle presence
Was too soft for me to feel.
So I went out searching
For something to stir my soul.
When I left you, I was starving
Yet I ended up devoured whole.

There was pain on the inside--
A darkness so deep
That the light you exuded
served to keep
others from seeing what was really inside
so we all sat around quietly while you died.

chimchim

Caught in a lie,
its all so clear
that no one believes
you're being sincere.

Round and Round

Its all been said before--
probably by me
Just a brief search, and I'd find it all--
This endless cycle of health and disease.

It Ain't Perfect

I've been listening to a lot of speech
Listening while they speak
Wondering whether its them or me
Who's got it all together
Whether we're bond or free
Whether we'll ever agree
Tired of pretending
So I let 'em be.

Wondering which one is wrong
All the while knowing that it Ain't me.
Knowing and searching deep in my soul
For an ounce of compassion; there's none that I see.

Who will I be
When its all said and done?
denying myself
Yet yearning for fun
Missing my people
Then wanna be alone
Ain't talk to no one
Won't pick up the phone.

Pentecost

It's dark in here. And very cold. A hollow sort of cold. An empty cold. With no refreshment or joyful exhilaration that makes you want to run around to stay warm. No. This is a dead cold.

There are too many of us packed together in this room- we're packed together tightly and very afraid. Yet I'm lonelier than I've ever been. Like there's a void or a tear within the earth itself and all that was light, and good, and comforting is being sucked into it.

He left so suddenly, and with him he took all my peace. It's not just me. And it's not just us. I think the whole world can feel this emptiness... because there is no sound. There is no movement. There is only stillness and waiting.

I can hear them all breathing and occasionally someone shifts in his seat on the floor and the shallow scratch of his sandal rubbing across the clay distracts and annoys me.

I can't tell if my eyes are open or closed anymore-the darkness is so complete. And every now and again there are little pinpricks of light that dart across my vision- like when one rubs his eyes too hard and causes that dull pressure in his skull to protest and send bursts of light to the back of his eye lids.

There's a sound. There's a sound like the howling of a mighty wind cutting through the branches and needles of a pine forest. And it is growing louder. Unbearably loud. It's overwhelming.

I keep expecting to be caught up in the storm and tossed about, but everything remains still. Except that now all of our eyes are open, and I can see their eyes because there is light. Real light. Like fire bursting upon the heads of all those around me. Flames dancing and growing- stretching and lifting toward the ceiling.

We're standing now with our heads cocked back staring up at these tongues of fire that are bursting from the tops of each of our heads and uniting into one big flame. It grows brighter, grows whiter, until I'm certain we will all go blind.

When our bodies are so cocked back that we are in danger of falling over backwards, the flame consumes us completely, and blasts from out the room. Surely the entire earth is engulfed in flame. Surely the whole world is consumed in fire. How long we stood there, shuddering in the light!

Then the light draws back. We can feel it rushing back toward us. The wind! The howling wind! And with no sign of slowing the light enters us. Through our mouths and eyes and ears. Through our skin and our beating hearts, the light infuses us so that there are beams of light erupting from our bodies. We are glowing.

Then we begin to speak. And we haven't stopped speaking. We are consumed. We are compelled.

See my only relief from the fire within is to share it with you- to have you bear it along with me. For it to consume us both. For it to consume us all.

A moment

It took her a while to finally look down at her hand. She'd been so preoccupied she didn't even notice the blood pooling underneath her fingernail. Now that she thinks about it, her finger does smart a bit.
She has a bad habit of picking at the skin around her nail--searching for a loose end that she can tear off. And once she's done it, she wonders why and vows never to do it again.

She will no doubt do it again.

Confession

I believe the fire is reserved for me
No way around it
It's hard to break free
From the terrible truth
That I'm not who I seem
And the life that I live is not all
Peaches and Cream,
But anger and lies
Both big and small
And cravings that contrast
My Heavenly call,
and there's no way for me
to accomplish it all:
To be faithful and gentle and truthful and calm
To be kind and be generous and patient and strong.
And I sink with the pressure
that I feel from above.
So instead I confess it,
And hope for the best
that when it's all over
that I pass the test
And all of the worrying
And all of the striving
Was a very good effort
But unnecessary writhing
cause all that I needed was to confess with my lips
And believe with my heart that I'm a piece of shit
And that I needed a Savior who could clean up my mess
And that he would accept me and love me
And take care of the rest.
(Funny enough I know this to be untrue
because Jesus himself said,
"I don't know you.
If you don't do the things I say to do,
you're a stranger to me,
And I to you.")

Forever this way--
Anxious and afraid.
This is my new normal
This is my day to day.

Compulsion

It tears from my throat
like a hand with steel claws
is dragging my voice and my soul
out from my mouth.

There's no rest
from the clenching of my muscles,
like a spasm with no sign of relief.

My body is trapped-
painfully still
head tilted back
and mouth open wide.

"Holy holy holy
is the Lord God Almighty,"
never ceasing
never waning.

The only movement
is the flapping of my wings.
A reflex from the pain,
they tear through the air.

I'm not alone.
There are millions of us
lined up and down
this golden room

And at the center He sits
and watches
and its been this way
since forever
and will be this way
till forever more.

I am the Suburban Mom

I am the Suburban Mom
Always chipper and running around
From practice to tutoring
I'm the best mom in town.
And every so often
When I flip completely out
And lose my cool,
And act like a clown,
My lawn is still manicured
With long green fescue,
And my 2.5 kids
Pose perfectly for our family pictures.
And when I am dying inside,
Feeling helpless and totally alone,
My smile shines brightly
In selfies I took on my new iPhone.
I am the Suburban Mom
Making my life look perfect
Like its my job.

I was inspired to write this as I was reading a completely unrelated book. I scribbled it quickly on the back cover and now its here. Forever. 

You may not know this

There was a time when I knew so many people in this space. We would read each other's writing and comment and share and critique. For years. I think there are still communities like that. I just fell out. And now when I look back to find those friends, they're no where to be found. They've stopped writing or they've cancelled their pages. And yet here I am.

There was a time when I would have hundreds of posts every year. Now I average about 1/mo. Isn't that something? Have the words all dried up? Has my life become so stagnant that there's nothing left to write?

Anyway back to the part that you may not know. There's a hidden menu to the right of this page and when you hover over it, a little file cabinet pops out labeled "remember," and then you see a list of years filled with posts dating back to 2005.

2005. 12 years of writing. I mean I've been writing longer than that, but those writings are mostly lost. I'd kept them in notebooks that I'd decorated with magazine cut-outs and puff paint. They're probably decomposing somewhere. But here on this page are 12 years of recorded writings, posts, rants, memories, jokes...

I was 19 years old. In college. A party girl with a 4.0 living in New Orleans.

Now I'm 31. Mother of 2. I've been married 11 years and have been living in Raleigh for 7 years.

Its a lot.

I was reading through my writing last night. Reading through the years.

Its a lot.

So many drafts.

lots of words to say
to express how I feel
In my day to day
But I refuse to hit publish
For fear that its rubbish
So instead I hit save
Close my laptop
And walk away.

Panic

It's come back-
That empty feeling
That's not empty at all,
But hollow and tumultuous
Like something's stirring
More like something's emerging
And banging on your sanity's walls.

It rises
To just about the top of your lungs
right about when you're going to scream
or choke
Can't breath
Tears jerk
And you use all your strength
To keep it in check
And most of the time it works.

Then,
At least for me,
Right about when I forget to breathe
And my panic makes it hard to see
Reality
I call on words to make sense of it all
To help me stamp it all
Brand it all
With something that I can understand
Then I write it out for y'all,
My foes and my friends,
To glance at when you've got a sec
And think, hmm it doesn't make much sense
and you quickly move on to the next.

Impulse

It bubbles up inside
Like the fizzy carbonation
of a soda pop bottle
Shaken and tipped
On its side.
Ready to explode
But kept inside
by a small cap
Screwed on tight.

Still still.

I have found it increasingly hard
To think as of late.
And because of this ennui that I hate
I sit and impatiently wait
fidget
flutter
and flail
I implore of my muse
inspiration
And motivation
to no avail
So here I sit still
For the truth to slowly unveil.