Over Again

The air is thin.

It causes my lungs to collapse.

So much at stake starting over again.

Blood pounds viciously through my veins.

I can feel my anxiety as though it were crawling in my flesh.

My head spins.

My breath is short.

My throat constricts.

Unhappiness it lingers.

There is Joy nowhere.

The darkness gets darker still.

I feel trapped, I feel alone.

The loneliness fills my soul with mourning.

Mourning what was not.

Mourning what never has been.

Wandering back through the memories to a time when we were more than this.

What has gone right?

Everything even started wrong.

Two little ones I created even forgotten most days by you.

How is neglect love?

Or sitting together but never talking?

How is this important, when I’ve seen all that was not?

Don’t fool yourself, it isn’t working.

Two neglected hearts are broken.

Three, but mine never truly trusted anyway.

And so here we are.

And now I’m even more lonely than before.

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Promise of Affliction

Don’t speak.

Words hurt.

Don’t try to pursue the chaos.

It’s poisonous.

I’m cyanide.

I will only shatter you to pieces.

Don’t come too close.

I’m far too gone to save.

What kind of life do I promise?

What kind of joy could I bring?

The madness spins and spins.

Straw is turning to ash.

How can a broken heart produce gold?

Pretend with me the world is okay.

Pretend with me that I never hurt.

This box can cram shut.

Demons skipping around the room,

Laughing as the pieces continue to scatter.

Lament with me over the broken pieces.

And when I’ve stopped weeping, just go.

Wounded hearts feel the deepest of hope.

They feel the deepest heartache.

Chaos rages into the night.

The Dark is snickering.

Why?  What was my problem?

How could I be so easily disposable,

And so easily adored?

I’m a suicide note waiting to happen.

I’m good at pushing loved ones away.

I’m even better at hiding that anything was ever wrong.

And to think this chaos only started last week.

A sealed box of history past crashed open.

Suddenly a lifetime of memories feel like they happened yesterday.

Relentless

Happiness is not a place, it’s a state of mind.

It’s serenity in chaos, that so few  can ever find.

And why is it the tempests toil and destroy our brains?

These hurricanes smashing us, emotionally it drains.

For failure, I had it coming.  Fate seems set on this.

Somewhere in the Universe, my Destiny was to go amiss.

Flames are burning my walls down, while I’m still locked inside.

Somewhere in this madness, it’s a miracle I haven’t died.

I know where Happiness isn’t, and I don’t pursue the wrong door.

Somehow now I’m finding flashes of hope, in this miserable downpour.

Anyone listening…. Someone please stop the madness screaming in my head.

I’m coming to terms with the reality, the world would be better were I dead.

The grief that I spent three years running, just to end up back here.

The anguish that no matter how far I ran, you showed up in the mirror.

Well I’m done!  I can’t take this anymore.

After all the years of hurting you’ve left me with this score.

Why am I doomed to roam the earth in pain betraying?

Is this my Karma?  For all of my sins is this how I am paying?

Oh foolish child was I!  I was so frail, and sin so strong.

All the penance of earth wont cover my shame and wrong.

Somewhere down this frustrating road there must be a glimmer of relent.

A pin-prick of good fortune which could only be Heaven sent.

Maybe I’ll find it.  Perhaps in all my troubles I wont.

Until then, someone promise to bury me in satin if I don’t.

The Unholy Harlot

She was a clever girl.  But lost and succumbed to the darkness inside her.

On the outside a shining smile, true Angelic being who lived to love.

Inside asking the mirror, “Am I beautiful?  Am I usuable?”

Undercover of darkness, she gave others the boost they needed to make it to the next day.  Dark silent deeds only Night could comprehend.

A toy.  A play thing.  Lovely enough to tarnish, ugly enough to hate.

Recklessly giving into the desires.  Recklessly bound to others, giving them what they wished as they wished it.

She was a broken, frustrated shard of glass.  Her sins innumerable to count.

Somehow undesired by all who would treat her right, twisted and broken – settling for less.  Always so much less.

The Perfect One never came.  He never rescued her from the tower.  The dragon was destroyed, but the castle remained in ruins.  Never to be lit up.

A perfect little church girl.  Mary’s twisted unholy little Lamb.  All the answers on the tip of her tongue.  The perfect Youth Pastor protege.

Eyes, sullen, dark, outlined in shame.  Afraid to cut, afraid to bleed.  Wishing the inside would finally die like her black soul.

It wasn’t that she was evil.  Tainted?  Indeed.  Abandoned to play in her own imagination.  Creating beautiful things outside the confines of Reality.

Playing night and day, learning how to grow up.  Inside wishing she could just die.  Death must be better than all this.  Jesus loved her even if the others didn’t, yes?

Selfish, all desiring the same thing.  Giving it away to them one by one.  But only to a point.  The perfect tease.  The perfect wish. Just a taste to keep them interested, until finally she was cast aside.

The Neglecting One

Shush shush my dear, it’s only just your hormones

These silly emotions mixed up inside of you aren’t real, I promise

You have no reason to cry

No reason to faint

No reason to believe anything is truly wrong

Oh my dear, clearly he loves you, you know this to be true!

Look, you’re taken care of.  Everything is alright.  It’s always been alright.

Tut, tut, my dear!  It’s only your hormones raging into the night.  Women often confuse the emotions with reality.  Your reality must be slipping away.

You feel too deeply, you rationalize too much.  You think too long into things.

You’re not enough.  See dearest?  You aren’t meeting his needs.  So obviously he can’t meet yours.

Everyone else knows the Right side.  They’ll all smile and tell you how proud they are.

You’re delusional.  You’re reading it too deeply.

You’re wrong.
But….. am I?

Hell, the gates that bind me hence,
and without pity bar my soul.
That I should endure this fate no more!
Resigned to misery, must it be?

Where are they who would rescue?
Do they mock my place as well?
Braking,  broken, I succumb.
This endless chaos swallows me whole.

What have I done to deserve it?
Why are my prayers never heard?
Foresaken I mourn without a savior,
This cage won’t let me free.

When You Just Can’t Glow

I’m counting down the final weeks of my second pregnancy.  Lord knows I’m done.  With a minimum of two months left, an extremely active baby and a not-so-careful, active toddler, I want my body back.  Pushed, pulled, kicked and smacked from the outside; pushed, elbowed and kicked from the inside, I just want to scream “Enough!”  Especially since I haven’t had my own body to myself for two years and ten months.

When other mothers on social media seem to have great pregnancies, or appear to be doing everything right, always positive and upbeat,  it can make you feel like a terrible mother for not being able to keep up your exercises,  or afford your pregnancy tea, or being incapable of managing your toddler’s every need.
Discouraged, bloated, swollen, tired, cranky, hot and just plain miserable,  you scroll further down your newsfeed hoping somebody else is falling apart.  Surely you can’t be the only person in your circle who hates life today?

Books, toys, complaints, among a plethora of other things, are shoved in my face, forcefully smacked into my limbs, grabbed for across my bulging stomach, or thrown in my direction.
The rumblings of discomfort become more frequent as the “flutterings” of a rolling, stretching, growing baby start to feel more like earthquakes.
Prayers for an early delivery billow more like smoke from a forest fire, as opposed to a waiver from incense.  Each reminder that you’re not glowing and excited making you want to boycott the internet.  When does the misery end?

I read an article from Everyday Family this afternoon,  giving me permission to feel this way.  Finally,  I’m not alone.  And it’s okay to be done.

http://www.everydayfamily.com/blog/ok-like-pregnancy/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=2030&utm_campaign=Blog&gaui=7589455&tc=120085

My friends try to perk me up, some of them never having been pregnant and others who never will experience pregnancy.  It’s nice to be encouraged or focused on other things, but come the end of the day, you’re still pregnant,  you’re still raising a toddler, and you’re still miserable.
The neverending cycle of housework stacking up laundry and dishes, sprinkling dust in the air, mashing food into the floors, pushing toys under the couch, scattering things all over the floors. 
When all one wants is a nap, where is there time to enjoy the phenomenon of Life?

One day, it will end and I can stand straight up and down again.  I’ll be free to bend, stretch, lift and move!
Until then, I endure the moments by remembering my son won’t always be a toddler, he isn’t going to have Mommy to himself much longer, and Mommy isn’t going to have the same kind of time and energy -however difficult it is to come by right now- to spend with him like I do now.  There wont be enough space to crawl into my lap for his afternoon nap, or to watch movies.  He won’t have the same amount of room to snuggle into Mommy’s bed in the middle of the night.  He won’t be the only one demanding my attention.

How precious the moments, even in the tempest of misery.

The other things I look forward to, and anticipate with extreme delight, are various postpartum accessories to aid in feeling better about having two children, without the guilt staring at me from the mirror.  From tummy wraps to a hip corset, I’m looking forward to getting MY body back sooner.  Followed up with a better diet this particular time around, and not making the same mistakes I did the first time.
So far so good and I look better than I did the first time by managing a healthier choice of diet.  Ladies, I don’t care what they say, whatever you put on has to come back off, and it don’t just fall of.  You aren’t eating for two, eat for YOU.
So there is solace, and there is a brightside.  But I’m done.
And I hope every day she comes early.  Healthy of course, but early.