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 :)

Resilience

As I have shared in the other "wing" of my blog . .I've been thinking a lot lately about what keeps us stuck and what motivates us to become unstuck . . in other words, what makes us resilient? I've got my nose into research and will post some sense of what the literature has to say . . but as I've professed so many times, I'm so much more interested in how "we" perceive it rather than the number-crunched, academically-presented to-fit-inside-the-box interpretations. Although I truly value to scientific method (just so you don't get me wrong) . . I am interested in perception and description . . what we think and feel as we live it. My objective is to share our voices . .in our own words. I seem to find my way through life the best when I read and hear the experiences of other women . . this is where I find my resilience:) Without your stories or your experiences . . . I can only hear the sounds of my own words . . . and when I am struggling, it is village of your many voices that lifts me and prods me and encourages me . . just as I hope the shared stories and experiences do for each of you. With each other . . we are never alone. Resilience. So I encourage you to open that comment box and share your stories of resilience. It will be good for you (as well as me . . and I hope for many others :) As always . . I am listening . .