Coloring outside the lines

Why is it we have all these hopes dreams and aspirations for our lives, and we constantly plan for the future? We talk about settling down, having family’s, our career paths, but we don’t ever talk about just living life each day to the fullest. There’s that moment when you’re forced to come face-to-face with reality that life is short. You think it would wake you up. You think it would change you and maybe it does for a short while. Then it seems we forget again as easily as we were warned.

No one ever wishes to be sick or to get a difficult diagnosis. It’s not a pleasant thing. There’s very little positive in that, but it’s a wake up call. So what happens when we go back to sleep?

Do you ever just wish you could get in the car and drive, not come back, enjoy the freedom? You could feel the wind, the sun, the rain and let the car take you wherever it’s going to take you just like in the movies. I want to be spontaneous not because being spontaneous is a fabulous trait or something I want to work on, but because I feel trapped sometimes. Trapped in the life I’ve built. It’s not as if it’s a bad life, just so defined. I want to color outside the lines. I want to walk on a ledge. I want to feel before it’s too late. And sometimes I’m not sure I know how anymore.

My one bit of wisdom

I was a mold-able child.  My  mother’s fears easily became mine.
It took time for me to see this, to correct this, and memories I can’t unwind.

I missed out on things; I walked away from things, from people solely out of fear.
Worry ruled my world; the path ahead was laid so clear.

Even in times of turmoil, ever I was the peacemaker in my family.
Ironic, since I see life as a battleground awaiting me.

Now it seems as if the daily challenges sometimes are too much to take.
Sometimes I simply wish I could find an escape.

It’s only recently that I have seen how deeply past decisions affected me.
Looking back I realize that my choices have cornered me.

I’m heading down a path unable to turn back, wishing I’d done better, lived more.
My life could be so complete, if only I’d not been afraid to live it to its fullest long before.

If I could impart one bit of wisdom on a young lonely soul,
Maybe help someone else feel just a little bit whole

I’d tell them to remember to never ever be afraid,
In my experience, one’s biggest fear, is the choices we wish we had made.

Growing Old

Behind this strong exterior lies a lonely little child.
I work harder and harder everyday it seems, in my job, in life in general.
And ultimately for what reward, what outcome?
I picture myself growing older.
I see myself with wrinkles, greying hair.
I can feel the aching in my bones already.
I hear the creaking of time as I walk.
I look in the mirror and I can see the future me so clearly.
But she’s looking back at me, sad and disappointed.
She’s desperately trying to tell me how to fill the holes in my heart,
the holes that really matter.
She speaks to me and her mouth moves, but no words can be heard.
I do not have the wisdom yet, the years yet, for the knowledge to be real.
But I know I can’t turn back time.  I know I can’t relive things later.
I desperately want the secrets, the answers, the magical cure.
For next to dying alone, my biggest fear is living alone
or that perhaps I die having hardly lived.

 

“So Ya Had A Bad Day. . . “

Ever feel like you are on the Titanic, reaching desperately for the life boat as it floats away? I think I put too much of myself into work because it is my legacy since I have no husband, no children.  I’m forced to remember how much more important those things are to me.  I try to push that part of me down, aside, whatever.  I focus on work.  I work my butt off.  I put my everything into every aspect of what I do.  It’s who I am and it’s a pale piece of what I wanted to be.  I’m my loneliest when I’m reminded that work is but a job and doesn’t bring me happiness.  I’m my loneliest when work turns on me whether by beating me down with countless thankless hours, additional work as my only reward, or as in today the knowledge that when the ship shinks I will be the captain who never had an anchor, never had the wheel, and never had any fuel.

And as the theme lurks in the back of my mind, all about how one’s heart will go on, it’s abundantly clear to me my heart was broken long ago and the damage never repaired.  I invested myself in my work but was assigned something that could never succeed.  I knew it from day one.  I said it from day one.  I proved it repeatedly.  I used all the right tools to show them the failings, to show them where the path went astray.  In the end the tools don’t matter.  The path doesn’t matter.  All that matters is the end result.  Sad isn’t it?

We teach children that the journey is supposed to matter.  Heck, it should be more important than the end result.  After all, the end does not always justify the means.  All that jazz.  But as adults I’m not convinced everyone believes these teachings.  The world we live in is a bitter angry place and it is every man for himself.

I’m a strong person and when I’m not I act the part.  That actually is probably my biggest weakness here.  People think I’ll be ok.  People think I can take it.  People beat me down mentally, emotionally, publically, because I’m the one person that it won’t touch.  I’m not phased by these things.  I’m strong after all.  It’s ironic that the world falls for such tricks.  That a simple look or a staunch mindset meant to protect us from all the things that broke and beat us before wind up being the things that break us now.

I’m truly at a loss tonight.  I’m saddened by the words ringing in my head from today.  I’m saddened by the evils of this cold dark world.  But I’m most saddened by the reminder that when my time comes, all I’ll have to show for it is a job not always appreciated, not well remembered, and all in all just a job.

And even when I got my rewards or certificates, or some kind of mention of appreciation, I would come home and want desperately to show it to someone.  Tonight I wanted the comfort of knowing that when it all implodes I won’t be alone.  I wanted the comfort of knowing that all my hard work means something, but the truth is it is nothing.  It means nothing.

When I’m old and gray and looking back on life, I’ll be wishing I traveled more.  I want to go to Spain, Italy, speak Spanish again.  I want to be amazed by something not man-made.  I want to be loved.  I want to feel love.  I want to give back said love.  And not because someone tricked me or because it’s supposed to be or because …..I don’t know.

I’ve pretty much failed miserably at the online attempt of recent times.  I gave up after a few short weeks.  It’s just not me.  It feels so forced.  Love shouldn’t be so hard, at least not in the beginning.  Maybe I only know what the movies say, but I want to have that connection with someone.  I don’t care if they aren’t perfect.  I don’t care if they are overweight, heck I’d feel a little less pressure myself maybe.  I don’t care if they have flaws.  Flaws can be beautiful.

When I love someone I give 150% of myself and that is my flaw.  I set myself up to be the one who loves more.  You never want to be the one who loves more.  See they are the one that is left behind.  I never smothered, heck I like my alone time.  I like to think I give plenty of space in a relationship.  Maybe I give too much, so it’s easy to walk away.  I’ve wondered sometimes if I just maybe did some horrible wrong in another life and this God awful loneliness that never quite goes away is my punishment.  Is it so wrong at the end of a horrible day, to just want someone by your side?

If I’m being brutally honest with myself, I disappoint myself.  I need to return to the one thing that heals my soul – my writing.  I’ve been away for a while.  And if my legacy can’t be a great love, or children, or family, or the mark of a wonderful career, or any of those things, maybe just maybe it can be the message I send with my words.  I want to write a book.  I need to work on my poetry collection.  And so I resolve to make it my mission to return to my only true salvation, my writing, my poetry.  I will write the number of poems I need.  Hopefully, some of my followers might even wish to buy my book one day.  But even if the book never sees print and even if the poems reside only here or on paper in a pile somewhere, at least when my time comes, I will leave something behind worth seeing.  I will leave something behind with great meaning.  I will leave a part of me no one quite got to know.  I will leave the most intimate part of my soul.  And I will be proud to have let that piece shine when nothing else could.

 

 

In Progress

Sometimes I wish I could look in the mirror and see who I used to be.
A young woman; vibrant, excited for life, playful.
I was never quite carefree, but I was definitely more trusting, more hopeful.

I remember the first time someone called me beautiful that wasn’t family,
someone who wasn’t expected to say so.
It struck me as so strange because all I could see were my faults.

Even now, I struggle with the things I once did better.
I battle with my body over appearances.
I have a love and hate relationship with myself.

Even when I’m happy, I’m aware of these things.
My fears haunt me at the strangest of times.
I can be completely content and they’ll unexpectedly tip toe into my mind.

I’m always so careful, so thoughtful, so calculated.
I analyze to a fault.  I never do things without thinking.
But there is a part of me that wants desperately to take risks, to live differently.

Sometimes I just want to step outside of my body, my reality.
I want to float around untouched by pain, in the tiniest of bodies, with no imperfections.
I want to see her in the mirror and feel a sense of pride, feel whole.

Because when I look in the mirror, I see me, with these wounds.
I have holes in my soul, pain in my heart, emptiness where love should be.
I have scars on my body, weight on my stomach, and tears in my eyes.

I have lived, but I haven’t lived all the same.
There is so much I want to do and there doesn’t ever seem to be the time.
Do you ever wonder if you’ll reach the end and wish you’d just soared blindly ahead sometimes?

I’m grounded.  That’s good I suppose, but what if I don’t want to be?
I want to travel, I want to experience things, meet people.
I want my energy back – the energy of a child but the mind of an adult.

I don’t want to go back and do things again, because I wouldn’t be here, or be me.
But I want to have the time back that I’ve lost getting here.
I want to have the energy, the life, the innocence that have suffered getting here.

I guess all I can do is go forward, one day, one moment at a time
hoping for more moments where I am OK with the person in the mirror,
as opposed to seeing all that is wrong.

Coming back

Sorry to any of my followers for disappearing there for a bit.  As you can tell from several of my writings, I have been preparing for a difficult certification exam.  I’m pleased to announce that is now behind me and can be checked off the “to do” list.  I hope to be blogging more regularly again soon.  Tonight, however, some much-needed rest is in store.  Please look for new posts from me soon! Thanks for hanging in there with me.