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.



The Christmas Lights

The lights on the tree blink faster and furious.

They are the only lights in the house.

I lay on the couch with the blanket over me, warm.

I stare at the tree in complete and utter silence.

Blink, blink, blink, fade, blink, chase, blink, fade.

I try to turn off my mind, escape my own thoughts.

The lights, the tree, are peaceful.

I slowly look over all the ornaments that tell the story of my past.

The handmade ones of my grandmother,

The crocheted ones from Church,

The angel that has always been my favorite –

Blue, my favorite color, and watching over me.

With a magic wand in her hand as if she could make all right.

There’s a santa for those that want to believe.

There are bears and snowmen for the child in all of us.

There’s whimsy and fun adorning the tree.

There’s silver shining garland lighting up my night.

I remember when you put a tree together one branch at a time.

I remember buying my very first Christmas tree.

I hung ornaments even from my ceiling.

Christmas has always been my favorite time of year,

but as I grew older it’s been a challenge to remember why.

I watch the children open their gifts with glee,

but the day ends as quickly as it came.

Everything you look forward to for months at a time,

suddenly vanished in a heartbeat.

I look over at my father, who has suffered so these last few years.

I see the pain through the half-hearted smile.

I stare up at the angel sitting gently on the top.

I close my eyes and wish again the same wish every time.

Surrounded by loved ones, but none of them really mine.

The world has blest me with so much, yet left me with such holes.

And the toughest of times seem to have come during my most prized holiday.

Breakups and loss, moves and separations.

Family strife and heartache that never quite heals.

Angry words I can’t forget.

Unfeeling letters of deep hatred.

And a death of a dear friend.

These have become some of my holiday memories.

I struggle to push them down and remember the good.

I love the lights, I love the tree.

I love the holiday, the meaning, the smiles on children’s faces.

I love the hope, the anticipation.

But I’ve lost the ability to believe that any of that good could be for me.

I’ve lost the belief that somewhere in it all there’s room to give a gift to me.

I’m so thankful for the people around me, their lives, literally.

I don’t feel I have a right to ask for more.

I hear others say they are depressed at the holiday.

And I get angry because they have it all.

And all I want is to not feel for a while, to let the tree take my pain.

Let the tree light my heart, be my smile, be my everything.

And some nights it works.  The tree can make me whole.

It may be just an oversized decoration,

but it is the one thing from the holiday that isn’t broken.

It is the one memory that isn’t darkened.

It is the one piece that can always bring a smile.

I don’t know why, but the tree is my salvation.

She holds good memories, not bad.

She holds a peace I can’t find much in this world.

She lights a part of me, that desperately needs to see.

And for a short while, the tree completes me.

But my holiday is far from the Christmas’ I once dreamed up.

The hot cocoa and the warm holiday movies,

the holiday carols playing on the stereo.

With not a care in my heart, not a pain in anyone’s eyes.

I long for the innocence that the holiday used to provide.

I long to be the little girl on Christmas morning,

whose only care was what was waiting.

The little girl who sat on Santa’s lap and made a wish

and who knew one day it would come true.

But that little girl is not so little anymore

and the wish never did come true.

But on Christmas Eve in a Church of hundreds,

I sing the songs with faith and love true.

I believe in hope, faith, and all that is good.

I turn off the tree to go to bed and the lights still blink in my closed eyes.

I go to sleep one last night, with the lights shining my heart.

They give me hope I can’t explain.

I just wish it could last.


She sleeps

I walk alone along this dark lonely path.

The wind surrounding me, chilling to my bone.

Leaves crackle under my feet.

Moonlight shining the way for where I’ll go.

I stop thinking for a while, stop worrying about what I’m supposed to do.

The world expects so much from me that I’m always failing at something.

I feel the nagging of everyone at my shoulders,

The weight of so much upon my back as I walk.

I’m hunched over trying to withstand it all, but no one can tell.

There’s nothing around but the trees and the silence.

They are the only ones who see me for who I am.

I find myself running after a while to escape the world within me.

I hear their voices in my head, in my heart, breaking me with every step I take.

I’m the strong one right, I can take it all.

I’m not supposed to feel, supposed to hurt, supposed to ache.

That’s everyone else’s right, their entitlements.

I’m supposed to be the rock, be the warrior, be the glue.

I’m not allowed to break, to crack, to falter.

I’m not allowed to frown, to cry, to panic.

But among the trees, alone in this dark cold place

I am me.  I can be that person.  I can be pieces of a whole.

I can crack, I can break, I can falter, I can cry.

I can feel, I can be, I can want, I can need.

And when the day breaks again, I’m back to me.

The me that everyone else needs me to be.

And the real me, she sleeps quietly silently sadly.

She sleeps….


Call Me Maybe

I’m sure many of you know the Carly Rae Jepsen song, “Call Me Maybe”.  And in it there’s a line, “Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad….” I think I finally understand how it’s possible to miss someone you never met.  Most days I have a moment or two or three of loneliness and shrug it off and keep going.  It’s events, holidays, and occasions that are harder.

My birthday never had that special feel – not for lack of trying on my family’s part.  But I don’t really remember the young ones and the ones that stick in my head are more the high school and beyond.  Well, ok junior high and beyond.  Anyway, it wasn’t that my family didn’t do a big meal or that they didn’t buy me presents.  It wasn’t that they didn’t care, because they did and it was all nice and thoughtful and appreciated.  But every year when I blew out those candles I had the same wish.  For 30+ years now (that’s the closest your getting to an age….lol), I’ve wished for God to bring me a soul mate, someone special to spend my life with.  And maybe it’s not fair to wish that anymore, maybe it never was.  First off, yes, I know that wishing doesn’t make it so and I know there’s no power in a birthday candle, but hey, can’t blame a girl for trying.

Even when I had a boyfriend it seemed we were always on the outs for my birthday.  I never once really celebrated a birthday with someone who didn’t have to love me.  When I was younger, I dreamed about what it might be like.  I yearned to have a special day with someone who would look in my eyes and see me as their biggest gift and treasure.

Honestly, I’ve lost faith that my wish will come true, despite occasional efforts to the contrary.  My friends asked what I was doing for my birthday and I prefer to try and treat it like any other day, because the moment I start to think it is something to be honored or celebrated, I start to think of how I might want to do that, with who, etc.  Then I feel lonely.  I feel as though I’ve lost something, something I never quite had to lose.

I think sometimes I sound ungrateful.  I have a good life.  I have a job I love, for the first time in awhile, with a few kinks.  I am good at what I do and proud of what I’ve done.  I have an awesome niece and nephew that I get my mom fix with.  I have parents who love me and who continually try to make my life better.  I have a close family, which is good and bad.  I have friends, though most are married with children now and I don’t often get to see.  I have a stable life.  I have a great home.  I’m not needing for things or hurting or hungry or cold.  What right do I have to ask for more?

Logically, I get it.  Then I look around at the couples on the street.  I can’t help but be envious of the connection they have and of what that could mean.  I have pictures in my head in rich color of what I envisioned my later life to be.  I can see my mate (from the back anyway) sitting with me holding my hand as we age.  For a moment, I feel a sense of peace, like the image is real; it is so strong. My biggest fear in life has always been winding up alone and dying alone.

You get to be good at being alone after awhile.  There’s pluses to it.  I can cook whatever I want for dinner – ice cream, pasta, cereal, soup, etc.  I can choose not to eat.  I can eat at 11PM.  I can do the laundry, but leave it in the dryer.  I can  hang a towel up messy.  I can leave the TV on when I go in another room and know my channel won’t be changed.  I know the toilet seat won’t be up when it shouldn’t.  I know I can go to sleep when I want.  etc etc…

On the other hand, there’s no one to nudge me in the morning when it’s cold outside and still dark and help me get out of bed to start my day.  There’s no one to make me dinner when I get home late from work.  There’s no one to kiss me when I’m excited or hold me when I’m sad or comfort me when I need comforting.  There’s no one to laugh with or smile with, cry with, or simply be with in silence.  There’s no one to help when the work seems too much.  There’s no one to just shake sense into me when I get overwhelmed.  There’s no one to balance me when my scales get rocked.

I refuse to settle for someone I’m not in love with.  I want that meaningful connection with someone.  Honestly, maybe it’s not possible, but I had a glimpse of what it could be once.  I met someone once that I felt a true deep connection with, that I could have loved, that I think could have been a soul mate of mine in another life, in another place, in another time.  But in this life, it wasn’t meant to be.

People think I’m critical or picky, but when you reach a certain age, you dreamed a dream so long, if the dream can’t be, than why shatter it for something that pales in comparison.  I’m not looking for Mr. Perfect as many seem to think.  Far from it in fact.  I’m looking for Mr. Right-for-Me.  And he’s hiding under a rock…..somewhere far far away….and I guess I may never know.

I have married friends that make me awfully uncomfortable sometimes.  They tell me they think things about me or well, that’s enough.  A compliment is fine, but some take it too far.  I think they say it because they think it will help me be less lonely, but it’s just creepy and inappropriate on all accounts.  Then I start to think why is it I’m attracting taken men, but I can’t find a decent single one anywhere. If only I knew I suppose….

well I’m off to blow out another candle, wish another wish…there should be something to say for persistence right? 🙂 Goodnight my Mr. Right-For-Me, wherever you are! Until someday…..I hope….

And so I walk. . .

Another year gone by, I’m still me.
Nothing much has changed in my world.
The same ache is in my heart, maybe stronger now.
And I’m stumbling through each day, ignoring it.

I walk these beautiful trails, just nature, deer, and myself.
I breath in clean, crisp, fresh autumn air.
I hold back my tears and swallow the lump in my throat.

Walking slowly, focused and in control.
I walk the path staring straight ahead.
I can’t let myself look back anymore.
I stop to enjoy the river, the rabbits, and the cold breeze.

The breeze cleanses my soul,
here in this quiet amazing place I am calm.
I may not be happy with where I’ve been,
or even who I am.
I may not know where I’m going,
but I let the trail lead me for a change.

For a few hours, a night here and there,
I say goodbye world.
I hide among the preserve,
hoping to be as cherished as this place someday by someone special.