Losing Myself, without Losing Myself in the Process
Receiving a diagnosis for POTS a few years back presented a curious opportunity to demonstrate skills introduced to me during my years in therapy, as if I were taking a course on Self Acknowledgement with practicum experience in Self Parenting and Personality Confirmation.
Continue reading “Losing Myself, without Losing Myself in the Process”From Obsessions to Obstructions
Sometime during the past six months I stopped writing.
Continue reading “From Obsessions to Obstructions”My Places, My Pathways
In November the psychiatric nurse practitioner who prescribed my medications retired, and she referred me to another. In addition to managing medications, my new provider also provides EMDR treatment. Encouraged by the blog posts that a few of you other bloggers have posted about your experience with EMDR, I decided to give it another chance.
Continue reading “My Places, My Pathways”This Woman, Heart
Released March 4, 2022, my first poetry chapbook explores the significance of home illustrated in both words and drawings. It is available for purchase here.
Continue reading “This Woman, Heart”in the wake of dreams
my head held high
my stance deliberate
in order to command upon the sea
the destination that this vessel seeks
I wear my confidence arranged and bold
a Monarch's gown bound
tight around my heart
embellished with embroideries of gold
with skirts that fall
to sweep the heavy deck
I cloak my battle wounds in quarantine
my thoughts and plans
my agonies and tears
protected by the armor of a Queen
with silks and linens lifted from my skin
and my defense undone I disappear
an Empress only visible adorned
and no pride for the princess deep within
my past will soak the pillow and my mind
will lay there questioning
how I should dare
to claim to be an heir inheriting
the right to name my journey after me
yet I will point
my compass on a star
and dress myself in my authority
before the night
there blooms a buoyant day
behind the sails
there leans a lusty wind
beneath the hull the frothy sea is cold
and there is turmoil in the wake of dreams
but I possess the garments of a Queen.
beside the sea two stones in the sand one jasper warmed within my grasp restitution never reimbursed the verdict is mine, my accidental life is claimed by me ghostly and ungraspable man shrouded from reality what have you done relinquished trust and signed your name in ruthless disregard cold-blooded and unjust an agate washed clean of volcanic skin - that fiery womb that hardened cold and unforgiving - my existence held up to the light irregular and lovely and unshared I speak this pain and she responds semi-precious words in her warm hands this tug of war is not a game with teams of hearty men or teams of laughing children my idea of what defines a man will fight mismatched against the power of who you are until you are completely gone perception smooth and fixed in my palm your death like amber honey colored and imperfect she finds truth for I have grieved it in advance the man I lost before his child was ever born
Of “Troublous Dreams” and ”Truth of Valor”
(King Lear and Henry V, by William Shakespeare)
My dreams continue to unfold within the setting of my childhood. The tall old house, white and peeling in a ragged yard, is the stage. It stands narrow and imposing in dilapidated imitation the open air Elizabethan Theatre that joined its neighborhood when the house had already seen the drama of 35 years. The story is confusing, as if the players have individually chosen which act they will perform, responding to each other with the wrong words and gestures. Incongruous even within themselves, they flit among the scenes undirected while the me-child seems to constantly throw them off by reciting the correct lines.
Continue reading “Of “Troublous Dreams” and ”Truth of Valor””Of Color and Contemplation
The bed is covered in a sheet of plastic and the low bookcase is shoved to one side so that two walls are unobstructed. I wind my way carefully toward those walls with a wet brush and a small tray of paint while strategizing the next moves in the furniture game that will provide access to the remaining walls. It is a puzzle and it occurs to me that there is too much furniture in this house. I scowl inwardly in frustration and then laugh. Yes, there is too much furniture. I just like furniture! Admitting this to myself opens up memories and my mind wanders through them as I work the rich color into the heavily textured plaster.
Continue reading “Of Color and Contemplation”The Tempering of Trajectories
A man I know was arrested recently on very serious charges. He and his wife are around my age and I have known them for many years.
Continue reading “The Tempering of Trajectories”