love

Full Circle

I’m still struggling to write cohesively about all the things going through my mind. Through some random circumstance, I came across this poem I wrote a little over a year ago. Another version of my origin story.


Lying here crying over you,
As I promised I would not do.
Forgetting to my own self be true.
Reacting like a kid without a clue.

I’m too old to be doing this;
telling myself, you I would not miss.
Forgetting as I remember your kiss.
Reminded by your ghost dis.

When will these voices cease?
How do I gain release?
My mind, I need to quiesce.
My soul is seeking deep peace.

You’re not what this is truly about.
You’ve triggered all my fear and doubt.
You’ve broken my resolve so stout.
I just want to scream and shout.

In my infancy it all began
when I thought my father so quicky ran.
Teaching me not to depend on a man.
Relationship was not part of my plan.

Then, a kiss, unbidden.
A “love” to keep hidden.
Right by wrong overridden.
In society ’twas forbidden.

Rejection turned to twisted revenge.
My mom sought avidly to avenge.
Her sanity began to unhinge,
darkening her spirit more than a tinge.

Understanding nothing at my age.
Inner pain turned to outward rage.
Her brokenness I could not gauge.
Her torment she sought to assuage

Burdened by her own embattled past;
that agony, that pain could not last.
A deep darkness so wide and vast,
Unburdened with a final blast.

All this before I was a teen,
shaped into a spirit so mean.
Attempting to affect a stoic mien
inevitably set the scene:

A life repeatedly caught in love’s mirage,
built entirely through self-sabotage.
I see each one lost in a montage.
Unsure if I can withstand the barrage.

Full circle…I’m back to you.
Missing what you say and do.
I fell, despite what we both knew.
My heart stolen, lost to your coup.

©️2018 lem

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I feel like my brain went on vacation and forgot to take me with it. There’s just a hodgepodge of feelings, thoughts, and experiences from the past several weeks, swirling in my psyche. I didn’t really know what or how to write about it. So, I started where I was and followed where it led.


When my mind is blank
and my vision dim;
my heart is heavy
and my soul is grim.

When my words are lost
and my mouth silent;
my lungs are empty
and feelings are violent.

Avoid and evade
the sorrow and pain.
Numb the body
Disconnect the brain.

This half life
I do not want.
Yet, in this moment
my will is daunt.

The tank is empty.
The drive is gone.
It’s time to rest
and wait the dawn.

Open the heart
and clear the mind;
heal the soul
and mend the blind.

Love lives in me,
a spiritual well
I forget to drink,
my thirst to quell.

Reach deep within
Touch the eternal
Connect with love
Fraternal

Grasp the vine
In him abide
Mind, heart, soul
Full life betide.

What if…?

Yesterday’s guest speaker spoke about sabbath, rest. She and I had talked earlier in the week about the subject, since I was the one leading last night’s discussion. Our conversation has been on my mind ever since.

After our conversation, I went to my R.E.S.T. group therapy class. I don’t actually know what that acronym stands for. I just know it’s a class about Dialectical Behavior Therapy. I find it coincidentally interesting that immediately after a discussion of “rest” as part of faith practice I would attend a class titled “REST.”

In class we talked about seeking happiness inducing experiences as part of managing our mental health issues. I think the two go hand in hand: rest and pleasure.

Rest means different things to different people and things which bring pleasure to one person are not the same as what brings pleasure to another.

What we, as Christians do know is that the Sabbath is made for people, not people for the Sabbath, at least according to Mark 2:27.

Another name for The Most High, The Almighty, The Lord, God is Abba or Father.

Now, if you’ve experienced the trauma of religious abuse or an abusive or neglectful relationship with your own father, this will be difficult, painful, or impossible to relate to, which is totally understandable and reasonable. I’m not trying to force feed my beliefs or faith on anyone. I’m simply saying what it means to me. You have free will and get to decide for yourself. No judgment. All are welcome here.

I never had a relationship with my own father. Nor has my life ever afforded me much of a sense of safety, an ability to rest, or experiences of delight. I didn’t grow up attending church, and I have had religion used against me and to manipulate me. It’s taken me a long time and a LOT of mental health healing to get here.

So, I find myself contemplating what it means to be a child of God, resting in his arms, and taking delight in him.

What if our hearts’ true desires are to be known completely and loved unconditionally? What if being fully known and wholly loved is our refuge and our shelter? What if what allows us to rest and let go of the tension, worry, and fear is a sense of safety? What if being rested opens our senses to be able to experience delight? What if this is what it means to become “as a little child?”

What if we could believe that God lives in us? What if we believed God is love? What if we believed God encompasses time and eternity?

Would all of this mean that we have constant access to God, who can fill us with love, offer safety, shelter, and rest, who can enable us to experience delight in the eternity of each moment in time…even in the midst of all the trials and pain?

What if…?

Untitled

In the land of the free
And the home of the brave,
Fear and greed
Create the mind slave.

In what was believed
A land of abundance,
Writhes hate unrelieved
And lost moral compass.

Not the lost you may think,
Facade’s fake appearance;
Words and deed don’t sync,
Cognitive dissonance.

Against humanity
A legal crime
Political insanity
Time after time

Right is illegal.
Wrong wears the crown.
No longer an eagle.
Now an orange clown,

Playing the people
With words of false faith.
We’re called sheeple
Considered weak wraith.

We must together,
Stop vanity’s fight
From God’s aether
Let truth take flight.

Let compassion rule.
Let empathy drive.
Make justice true.
The spirit will thrive.

Take a stand.
Walk the talk.
Be peace in our land.
Make love the bedrock.

©️ 2019 lem

Social Justice and Being Christian

Forgive this interruption in the regularly scheduled programming about my job search journey. This is just too important to me to not talk about.

This past week I was in a discussion with several others regarding social justice issues like homelessness, stereotypes, what we believe about them, and how we act on them as followers of Jesus.

A significant part of the conversation was regarding those who experience homelessness, with much of that centering on those in chronic homelessness, who often deal with substance abuse and dependence issues.

There were the usual questions about the whys and wherefores of “those” people’s choices and lifestyles. We also touched on the changes and so-called solutions in our society which foster the problem of homelessness and its impact on society.

When we got around to what to do about it, that’s when we got down to the nitty gritty of our role as Christians and individuals. How do you love people who may be unsafe, living in unsafe circumstances, who reject the social services they may have access to? How do you determine if someone will or can benefit from your involvement? What does relationship look like in this context?

One person stated that we can’t know what to do unless we follow the Holy Spirit’s leading. But, what if you’re like me and have difficulty accessing and discerning what the Holy Spirit may be saying?

Look to Jesus. Not to be trite, but, what would Jesus do?

• Make eye contact.
• Listen without judgment.
• Offer a willingness to understand.
• Treat with dignity.

It’s not our job to solve homelessness or poverty, as individuals. Those are goals to be worked toward, for sure. However, what we do know that it’s our job as individuals to love our neighbor, including our neighbors without four walls and a roof.

How to do that? Take time to get to know one of “those” people, even if it’s just to share a cheap fast food meal, a conversation on the corner, or offering a garbage bag so they can pick up their debris. These acts are acts of relationship and relationships are what Jesus is about.

I’ve experienced homelessness more than once in my life. The longest period was as a teen in relationship with a much older man who was, essentially, a professional, low-level con artist. Other times occurred when my mental health crashed and I couldn’t hold a job at the same time as my relationship’s toxicity clashed with my anxiety and mania…only I didn’t understand that’s what was happening.

I didn’t have substance abuse issues, but, my mental health issues, which weren’t recognized or understood by me or others around me, created an inability to toe the line of organizational and societal demands and expectations. Encountering someone willing to actually see ME and not just my circumstances or my history was priceless. It afforded me a sense of dignity that can only come from being seen and treated as if I was worthwhile and that I mattered, whether or not I could conform or meet the expectations of others.

I have neighbors who are unsheltered. Many experience alcoholism and dependency on other substances. Sometimes they work. Sometimes they panhandle. Sometimes they collect cans and bottles. Sometimes they do none of the above. They often do what they can to keep the areas they occupy free of debris. However, sometimes they don’t have a way to gather and dispose of garbage. Just like they don’t have consistent or frequent access to laundry or bathing facilities.

I’ve witnessed them helping and looking out for each other. They’ve helped me carry things too heavy for me to carry up a flight of stairs…without expecting or asking for anything in return.

Of course not everyone in these circumstances is friendly, open, or safe. There’s a lot of history of personal trauma for most people living on the streets. Substance abuse and addiction is very common for trauma survivors and those experiencing mental illness.

It’s easy to look at someone on a corner with a sign and make assumptions based on what you think you would do, given the set of circumstances you believe they are in. But, you don’t know them or their story. You can’t, unless you take the time and make the effort.

Donating money is easy – whether it’s to an organization or directly to an individual. Choosing any degree of relationship with an uncomfortable other is less easy for most of us and it’s not possible with all people at all times…but, it makes more of a difference and more impact than you may believe.

30 Day Writing Challenge – Days 8 & 9: Learning to Soar

Day 8 – What’s next?
Day 9 – How would your life be different if you were intentional about ___________?

I sat and considered, “What next?”
I was baffled and confused,
directionless and faltering.
Then, life happened
and I stopped thinking about it.

“Rolling with the punches;”
Taking life “one day at a time;”
Living “step by step,” and
“Putting one foot in front of the other,”
have been my mantras for survival.

Guess what? I have survived…my past, my life.
I’m good at surviving, but I am beyond just that.
I’m past these mantras. They’ve served me well.
They hinder me, now. They’re holding me back.
It’s time to learn new rhythms, new words.

What if I take a risk and choose to do
something more than get by?
What if I “step up and step out” and
“grab for the brass ring;”
“live each day by choice, not by chance?

How will my life be different if I
go beyond being “comfortably numb,”
adopt new mantras to live by, and
develop a, “new attitude?”
How can I affect a “change for the better?”

I can’t do this alone and, thankfully, I’m not.
The source of all life, light, and love resides in me.
What if I “seek first” to “watch, fight, and pray?”
What if I anchor myself throughout each day to
rest, walk, and hear by faith, mindful in each moment?

I will find new purpose, faith, and courage.
I will move through the self-doubt and fear.
I will head in a new direction, gaining
confidence along the way.
I will learn to “soar above the waves.”

©️2019 lem

30 Day Writing Challenge-Day 2: I Am Enough

Today’s prompt: What are you ready to give up or get rid of?

I Am Enough

These words and voices in my head
These critical, self-shaming thoughts
Haunting my days, disturbing my nights
Telling me I’m too weak and not tough

I’ve been told and it’s been said
To stop “shoulding” myself with “oughts”
Quit beating myself up in one-sided fights
Letting go of these things is rough

Let go I must, that I may move ahead
Move forward knowing I’m not ersatz
Release these burdens, soar to eagles’ heights
‘Til the fear and shame fall away as slough

Past time for the old me to be shed
Untangle the twists and knots
Put new dreams and hopes in my sights
I can do this, If I believe I’m enough

©️ 2019 lem

30 Day Writing Challenge- Day 1: Thankful

I’ve decided I’m going to attempt a writing challenge, to “prime the pump.” My creativity and inspiration have lain dormant for awhile. They’re sputtering. A poem or three, a bit of journaling here and there, or . . . nada, nothing. One of my consciously unconscious thinking errors is that I need to be inspired in order to write. Another, is my perfectionistic mindset: everything I write must be well thought out, structured, and formed – relatively error free – the first time I share it. Neither of these are true. However, for me, it’s like exercise: If I can’t go all out each and every time I do it and do it almost daily, then what’s the point? (A MAJOR thinking error.) That’s why I keep getting injured and continue to regain lost weight . . . losing all momentum. Time to challenge that thinking. Ergo, writing challenge.

Today’s prompt: What are you most thankful for?

So many things to be thankful for:
People, places, and events galore,
Too much focus on what came before,
Left me discontent and craving more.

Suffering from all the trauma and pain,
Distorted, shaped, and wired my brain
In ways that made me seem insane.
I believed there was naught to gain.

All my life, I fought like hell,
My mythos becoming a spell
Despairing and despondent I fell,
In sorrowful darkness I came to dwell.

Thinking I had nothing left to lose,
Bitter helplessness did suffuse.
Yet, I still sought the good news,
Slowly changing my views.

In me grew a yearning
To believe what I’m learning.
From melancholy I’m turning.
Hope and faith I’m discerning.

The thing I’m most thankful of
Gives peace like a dove;
Falls like a gift from above;
Is the greatest love.

Lettrs Prompt: Finish the Story – Love’s Calling

“His work never really interested him. And so, once again, he found himself staring out of the window. It was in that moment that he felt something he had never experienced before. He saw her in her yellow dress. The wind played with her dress as she turned around and they locked eyes…”

She shyly turned away. She had the homespun beauty and fresh faced look of someone not yet changed by the city. Everything about her was natural and without artifice: her fingernails were short and squared off, lacking any unnatural shine or color; her long, straight hair was earth brown – a shade he’d never seen amidst the frosted tips, highlighted/low-lighted, multi-hued heads of his fellow city dwellers; her face was shiny clean, free of exotic palettes of color, with unthreaded brows and unlengthened lashes; her eyes were deep dark brown, and had been mesmerizing, leaving him breathless once she’d broken eye contact.

She began walking away. He quickly arose from his desk, pulling off his headset in one motion…leaving his caller hanging. He rushed to the window, his eyes frantically hunting to see which way she’d gone. He was relieved to note that she’d entered the front of the building where his call center was located.

He reluctantly returned to his desk, moving past the astonished, amused, and frowning looks of his fellow employees. Picking up his headset, he returned to the call. “Sir, I’m very sorry about that interruption. It was all my fault. I sincerely apologize. Now, how may I resolve the problem?” His mind still on the woman, replaying their brief, non-existent encounter.

“Wow,” she thought to herself. “I can hardly even think straight, at the moment. I need a sit down.” She looked around and saw a fountain, with a stone angel pouring water from a stone vessel. On either side were semicircles of cultivated evergreen bushes, interspersed with black, wrought iron benches. She decided it was too windy and chilly to sit outside.

Going through the revolving door, she entered a grand lobby, circular in shape. Everything was circular: the Information/Concierge/Security desk, the chairs and settees dispersed throughout the area, as well as the accompanying glass side and low coffee tables.

“May I assist you?” inquired the stern-faced woman behind the desk. Then she smiled and Lucy felt much less intimidated.

“No…um…well, yes. I suppose,” she stammered a little. “I’m a bit early, I’m afraid. I’m meeting with Mr. Robertson for a job interview at 1:30 today.” They both glanced at the clock above the lobby’s entrance and noted that it was currently 12:46.

“Mr. Robertson just left for lunch and won’t return until shortly before your interview time. Feel free to sit wherever you’re comfortable. The beverage bar is off to your right, if you’d care for water, coffee, or tea.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry to have showed up so early. I don’t mean to be a bother. I’m just new here and am unfamiliar with the area. I gave myself extra time, in case I got lost,” Lucy profusely apologized.

“It’s no bother, at all. Mr. Robertson values punctuality and would prefer one to arrive too early than just a smidge late.”

Lucy sent the receptionist a beaming smile as she walked over to the beverage bar, where she opted for a bottle of cold water.

She found a chair facing the window where she could gaze on the fountain and think about the brief, non-existent encounter with the most electrifying man she’d ever seen.

There wasn’t any one thing, in particular that stood out. Since he’d been seated, it was difficult to judge his height. Overall, he appeared to be on the slightly larger side of average. His hair was a roughly textured sandy blond. His lips were like an elongated Cupid’s bow…not too thin, not too full. On either end of his mouth were faint creases, an indicator that he smiles easily. Another indicator were the lines at the corners of his golden hazel eyes.

“Ahem!”

Suddenly, her wandering thoughts were interrupted and her attention fell back to the present moment.

She glanced up as she began to stand and turn towards the disruptor of her daydreaming.

“Oh, you must be Mr. Robertson. I’m Lucy Hayes. Thank you for meeting with me today.”

“The pleasure is mine. I’m actually glad you’re here early. I’m afraid it’s going to be a bit of a non-traditional interview.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. First I want to briefly discuss your resume and experience. But, I’m really interested in seeing you in action. So, it’s to be a working interview. Assuming you don’t have anything you need to rush off for?”

Remembering the old adage, “Never let them see you sweat” and considering her rent was due in three weeks, she replied, “I made sure my afternoon was clear, in case the interview went long. So, I’m ready and willing to do a working interview.”

“Wonderful! Let’s head over this way.”

20 minutes later…

Nodding his head in approval regarding the first stage of the interview, Mr. Robertson advised Lucy, “Thank you for being so detailed and thorough with your resume and addressing the interview questions. You did marvelously. Now, for the next part. Follow me.”

He walked out of the room and began walking rapidly down the hall. She had to jog a few steps to catch up.

“I’m going to have you sit and listen in on one of our best customer service reps. You’ll be given a “cheat sheet” flow chart on how to handle our callers’ needs. After you’ve listened in for a half-hour to 45 minutes, then it will be your turn to take calls.”

Feeling slightly overwhelmed, Lucy nodded her head in agreement, nevertheless.

Walking into the call center’s main hub, they stopped at the control center and picked up a headset and a package of unused ear pads. He also grabbed a thin binder and handed that to her.

She smiled, confidently, as she followed him in navigating through the maze of workstations. Meanwhile silently repeating to herself, “I’ve got this. I can do this. Remember: listen, repeat, clarify, resolve.”

“Here we are,” he announced. “Tony,” he addressed a head of a familiar shade of sandy blond hair.

“Yes, sir?” Tony questioned as he turned his chair around, then stopped cold, his eyes locking with hers, once again.

Together, they smiled, each glad to have an opportunity to meet for real.

Happiness is as Happiness does: Musings from a Bipolar Brain

Happy is a feeling and feelings are fleeting. Happiness is a state of being and takes work.

The experience of Happiness is more challenging for some more than others and may seem impossible to achieve.

That’s because Happiness isn’t a goal or destination, but a byproduct, a side effect of the combination of our genetics, circumstances, beliefs, attitudes, and actions.

For many of us coming from lives filled with trauma and/or mental illness it will look different than it does for neurotypical people. We have to work through the trauma and confront ourselves to heal and grow. These are our prerequisites to Happiness.

There is no set formula for experiencing it. However, common and necessary elements include self-care (nutrition, activity, personal hygiene, etc.), engagement in healthy community, gratitude, service, and passionate purpose.

Pain, loss, grief, and other feelings and experiences, often considered “negative,” may suppress Happiness and cause us to lose it. But, what is lost can be found again. The negative doesn’t necessarily negate the ability to experience Happiness.

Of course, I could be way off and this is hypomania talking…but, I don’t think so.

What say you?

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