Ordinary Secrets

If I don't tell anyone . . does it mean it didn't happen?  If I tell you . . will you think I'm crazy?

He told me that he loved me.  I wanted him and he wanted me.

So I thought.  Seems he told a lot of women the same story.

I bought it ~ hook, line, and sinker. Or sucker, I should say.

When I confronted him, he laughed.  Said he didn't do it.  Said it was just a pack of lies.

I wanted to believe him.  But I knew better than to take him at his word.

I had him followed.  To her house.

I didn't need to.  Have him followed.

She called me.  To brag.  Said it was too bad that he didn't love me the way he loved her.

I cried.  But it didn't help.  What I wanted was for him to tell me that he loved me.  That he was sorry.

And he will.  Just wait.

Expressions of My Identity

I have never quite "fit in". . although I am always trying.
I say please and thank you . . and isn't that nice, while smiling.
But what I really think usually stays inside. .
Or I should say it stays in my head. . .
And goes round and round and round.

When I try to say who I am or what I think . . I am tongue-tied.
I have practiced over and over the 15 second "sales pitch".
It sounds ridiculous.
It is not an expression of my identity.

My eyes are.
The kind of work I do is.
The way I bake coffee cake on Christmas . .
These are expressions of my identity.

You can tell who I am by asking me a question that requires the truth today
And again, the same question next week.  It will still be the truth.

Rather than creating a fictional persona who curtsies and prattles about . . . I am strong on most days, knowing what I want and what I don't want . . and yet, when my guard is down, when I am uncertain, I feel like an idiot .  .and so I hide. . .afraid of my own shadow.

I do not like the dark side of who I am (although I know she exists) . . and so I force her to be silent.
But the silence can be deafening.
It can keep me from hearing even my own inner voice.

And so I am on a mission to recover my shadow self. . to express who I really am.
However, first I must go within and find her.

Pardon My Chaos

I cannot find a place to stand on my own in the present.  I am so caught up in a death-grip from the past; old actions and reactions haunt my every move.  I reach behind me to release the catch and yet, almost as a wind-up toy that gets stuck in one position and can't be freed, I am ratcheted into a contorted stance.  I am definitely unbalanced.

When I am frazzled, my emotions are like raw nerve endings and everything around seems to be in CHAOS!  The counter is cluttered, all of my underwear are in the laundry, and I've got stacks of bills  to contend with . . mirroring the disrupted and unattended muck I seem to be unconsciously shuffling around.

I am constantly making excuses and explanations.  I've got a busy
schedule, I just cleaned (I have no idea how this happened), I'm going to get to it on Friday, the check is in the mail.

Friday has come and gone and I'm still a mess, inside and out.  I've tried to ignore it, but I can't find a place to hide.  Any ideas?

Do You Dare to Listen?

Stop, I scream
but no one dares to listen
drones at work
busily making the world go round
with self-important duties.

Listen to the birds sing, I whisper
trying not to interrupt their song
falling on deaf ears.

Enough, I weep
soul longing for solitude
and reverent corners
where thoughts become dreams
and dreams turn into reality.

One more minute, I beg
body struggling against a dangling spirit
falsely teasing freedom that never seems to come.

Today, I promise
dark shadows lifting
blindly prodding movement into the sun.

On the Edge

I know in my brain that there's nothing I can do
But my heart is hooked into memories and I just can't let go
What is it, she asked
That pulls me with him in this free fall into darkness


Aching, sobbing
I want him back
The man who used to love me


He's hiding somewhere in a place I can't touch
No one can right now
I'm certain
In the blackest of places
Neither of us can see


We are each alone
All alone
Holed up
Afraid, confused


I never knew the edge of the earth was so close
I should have paid more attention to the signs
But I didn't


He's over the edge now clutching my heart
Still pulling my strings


The Man Who Fell Off the Edge 
(And the Woman Who Almost Fell Off After Him)

Pretending

I am an angry woman.  I'd never tell that to anyone.  Really.  How embarrassing.  I pretend that I'm flexible, that whatever happens will be okay.  But many times, it's not.  Really.

Yesterday my husband said he was going to go golfing after work.  I said sure, no problem.  (At least he asked.)  But I was pretending.  I had planned to fix a nice dinner and spend some time together.  I changed my plans.  And it wasn't a problem.  Really.  But I was still mad.  And then I was mad at myself.

I have spent my whole life trying to convince myself that the world is fair, I just need to adjust my attitude.  I've smiled, I've nodded, I've bitten my tongue so I wouldn't say the wrong thing. But I've been pretending.  Really.

An Ordinary Therapist

Well, I really wanted to talk about how I don't have very much money . . and about how I was kind of feeling down, but my new Victoria's Secret swimsuit came in the mail today (ironic isn't it . . no money, new suit?).   And even as I'm writing this, I feel like I should be guilty. . but I'm not.  I've been really watching what I spend lately . . and I really do NEED a new suit since I can't wear the one with the see through behind to the beach!

And then it hit me . . this resilience thing.
How many of us are wearing our old "hole-y" suits?

So, I tried it on and wow . . vavavoom!  Oh, sure, the zebra's got a little pooch but she's got style too!  And maybe that's what resilience is . . a little belly laugh. . .some really supportive friends . . .and a new suit.

Anyone else willing to give it a try? I'm here waiting . .I'll be the one with the smile :)

Eleyana

You are kind of pissing me off . . all this talk about resilience when we need help.  You and all your highfalutin words . . and research.  My god, gal . . we don't need research.  We are livin' it! Pickin' ourselves out of our beds and workin', goin' to school, takin' care of our kids.  How else are we ever gonna get by? Last time I checked, there wasn't anyone handin' out money as prizes for being resilient!

Give me something to work with . . give me a big smiley face, a gold star .  . connect me to the President.  Oh, forget about him right now, he's busy campaignin' and worryin' about the masses.  How about givin' me an electric bill that I can pay without havin' to use my calculator in the store isle to see what I can afford and what I have to put back.  Fill up my tank with your credit card . . see how resilient you are then.

Resilience sounds like plastic . . and I am real.  Give me somethin' real, gal . . then I can listen.

(to see the Therapist's response, see comment)

Copyright 2012 - OWDTBH

She sent me an email this morning . . said I hadn't posted in a while

It was just the nudge I needed, I guess

Because on this one I thought I might hide

Some days are easier than others . . I pretend no one else understands

But I know she does, she's lived through them too

Asking the gods . . why and why not and why now

So I pushed myself to the table . . sun streaming into my eyes

Open to the blessings, of friends smart and sassy 

And of course in her case, Southern style

What would we do without them . . those women who prod and poke 

You've something to share, like a bee in the bonnet 

A kick-start full of hope

So here I am at the wordpress. .. a swirl of thoughts and smiles

Maybe it's her chutzpah, this Moxie belle 

No ordinary woman to me

A woman of mystery and mayhem, what in her mirror might we see

Revenge and lusty ardor 

Oh my god, should she be you or will she be me?

Stay tuned for the next chapter . . . the wheels are beginning to turn

All my love . . my dear :)