one in a thousand, at least

Maybe we’re not forever,
but maybe we’re what we need right now

I never dreamed of marriage,
but I always dreamed of having my bosom friend
and marriage was the only way, it seemed,
to ensure that happiness and loyal bond

A kindred spirit who would appreciate my ramblings
and my overly embellished way of saying hello,
and my energy and my lack of filter
and would put up without cutting me off
and who would stay up late without making excuses or passing exhausted resentment

Who wasted no time in telling me his very worst qualities,
rather than convince me he was some amazing catch

who called me by my name and didn’t care what I looked like,
didn’t ask about my body or my face or my height

what are the chances that you’d hit all those checkmarks
that I’ve had as long as I can remember,

when it’s literally been longer than you can remember
since you just remember seeing my face

a separate thought

When a woman first gets married, (most times, let’s not be ridiculous)
(after all, this is just symbolic)
She is in it at least partly for her husband,
but also for the companionship and shared responsibility
and no longer always having to work so hard for herself
for the children, and the status and the rush of ritual and romance

and I’m sitting on a stoop watching the hoodlums

and I see their foolish ambitions

but I don’t scoff and scold and mutter

I just smile without inhibition,
grinning out onto the street

because I know I mean what I say and I’m not going to give up
because I have no other desires or questions or chances I’d like to take

I’d like to give the last one to you.

Nothing in the way and no restlessness to distract me

because I never dream or planned for marriage, I never had a thought when it came to children,
you couldn’t have gotten my scrapbook with my college plans

but I could tell you a million and one things about books and movies and animals and art
and I saw and thought of people that other people were too full of themselves to see

and the Jane Austen heroine who is suddenly face to face with this man
who knew her once, long ago before all this other mess and missed connections
and at the end of the race, the rain, the move or the two strangers who went back for one another
because somehow, at the exact same time
they realized that it’s always been you

and that’s absurd, love doesn’t work like that and life is a bitch with this timing
no…
not the timing, that’s perfection. It’s the waiting. It’s a process

Let’s revisit “bitch”
She’s a mother of many,
fierce and loyal, full of good things
warm, soft, protective and kind
gentle but not weak, firm but not mean,
dogged and vigilant and playful

Life is a bitch and she knows when we’re roaming
God uses her to nudge us back towards our den
where there are wonderful things waiting

and if we haven’t been ourselves in quite a while,
we might have been so far away that coming back is upsetting,
something wonderful and new can be alarming.
It often takes some time for us to accept it,
often longer for us to forget when we first found it,
and then one day we realize
we don’t know if we could ever be without it

Every process in its place
and soon, we can’t discriminate
between what we felt before this all began
and who got out of bed this morning
Already an entirely different person

The time we’re sick and we can’t ever imagine feeling anything normal ever again,
But then when we’re well we don’t give it two thoughts
because good health is clear and strong
there are no pitfalls, no creaky stair,
no skeletons or scandal

We’re just open and share the struggle
and like the loving bitch of Life
we nudge one another towards rest
and towards all the wonderful things that keep appearing
back from where we started and who we thought we’d try to be
and who we’ve tried to erase and forget

because beautiful things can find us

even if we were content, we could always be more

All day, she’d been shaking like a leaf

because the leaf is just waiting, at the mercy of the wind and its bond with the tree

all leaves shake

but this was a different vibration

I could feel not just the wind and my tenuous stem

but the entire mother tree, down to her taproot

and the peace struck like a child smacks with a stick

if I drop, it’s okay

I’m light enough now that the event will take longer,

but I’ll be softer when I fall
And become a part of something I am feeding,
something I have nourished and tended
something I am willing to give my all for
because all this chaos in my framework
has finally been diverted

condensed and simplified and sorted out and rationed
and when we have a clear environment

we suddenly see all these wonderful things we had no idea had been there,

always overshadowed by something new.

if that was your best, then I’ll take it

You said that was the best I’d ever get from you

if you’re going to insist,
I’m going to reply

you gave me your best, even if it was flawed and selfish
I was willing to take your best even if that was all that it was

because it’s not about what you say you won’t do

it’s about what I know that you can

you can’t see your potential even though you say you wrote the story,
you can’t read the subtext because you’re not looking for footnotes

the tiny type at the bottom gets ignored and agreed to
because we want to just get on with it

but every interaction, conversation affects the other person
and anything you express, everything you give now no longer ends with you

it’s not my idea

The reason I couldn’t possibly make sense
is because I was trying to explain it by piecing together what I wanted to

You told me that
without even knowing that you are always right

You’re right.

You’re always right if you make your own reality.

You’re an asshole because that’s where you have chosen to reside

you’re a user because it’s easier than moving to try

You’re right,
but you’re also right about me.

I don’t deserve the treatment you warned me about,
I erased my own boundaries even when I was the only one aware of them
and you, the self proclaimed sinner, stopped me in my steps.

You were the one who corrected my failings
when you were the only one who might have benefited from them

That I kept trying to convince you that this was possible
but it wasn’t my job to convince.

When I lost track of the reason this all started in the first place

I justified my heart by insisting I was good for you
I was trying to be selfish
and get from you what I most wanted

and I had to let Him wrest me away
and show me that my actions had become determined who I was loving
and in one word, I started only loving myself.
I was only supposed to show up for the work
for you, not myself, whatever the cost
and whatever came from there, it was a job well done.

I had to process quicker to catch up to you
because if I had to work through another ten years
I think it would have been too late for you

You’ve given up already.

Every situation since the fall

has just had you making the rules and knowing the ending
because you were already turned to the end of the book
and you are the author, and there’s just a back cover now

You don’t have to agree and you don’t get to change someone’s mind

The epilogue is being drafted,
has already begun to be written
and for the first time
you didn’t have to even find a pen.

I’m a terrible blogger

It could be the ADHD,
or maybe the fact that I know so few people read it.

It could be the struggle to have thoughts outside of life in the here and now,
because every day is another chance to wonder why this is what it is
weakness or illness or trauma or shame
surrounded by grace with a wall in between

Too many hats for too many roles
and my neck begins to ache and yet I can’t take them off and hang them up
this is where my life is
and this is what I must do now

and I’m not sorry for it
I’m a writer and not a good blogger.
Rather, I was a good blogger once when all I had to manage
was myself.

When the time get divided and splintered and lost
with children and jobs and friends and illness and grief
and the responsibilities circling like vultures
waiting for my collapse, seeing my bid for life

I find the time to care for me
it’s not what it was, and maybe not what will be
but it’s beautiful in its way

and it’s mine.

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When You Don’t Get It

The problem we have with the normalization of words
is they lose the meaning, the power behind them

I remember when my mom first declined to refer to something trivial as “awesome”

because only God is awesome.

I am so guilty of turning “love” into a descriptor for my feelings on everything.

I “love” bacon, and I “love” the movie The Fountain but then I look over at my daughter
and say how much I love her.

People without depression have taken the word “depressed” and stripped it of meaning.
“I’m so depressed, that dress I want is no longer in stock.”

Does that dress not being in stock make you want to stay in bed?
Does it rob you of joy and feel like an anvil pressing with tangible weight down on your head, your eyes, your perception of everything?

People without depression think that suggesting thinking of happy things and getting a good night’s sleep is helpful. To their credit, it’s not that they’re wrong. They are genuinely trying to be helpful, and those things may have a positive impact.

But thinking happy thoughts does not fix depression.

Think of it like this: When you are sick, you may drink a glass of orange juice.

The orange juice does not cure you.
I’ve read a lot of internet clickbait and I haven’t come across that headline yet.

The orange juice may internally help boost your immune system. It may hydrate you and give you some energy.

But you’re still sick. You may still be sick for a long time.

I look at my life currently and I see no future bright spots. I don’t see a break or a breath or relief. I want to go back to the way things were and then I realize I can’t. We just can’t afford it right now. It’s not where we’re at.

And then someone at work just suggests I look for things that make me happy.

But when depression is standing on top of me like a heavyweight jackass, I’m just throwing glitter on a landfill.

Oh, doesn’t it look pretty!
But lord, what is that smell?
Why is everything here broken?
It looked so much better from the road.

Hotel Life

Some days, guests forget that you are a functioning, feeling human being rather than a desiccated piece of human garbage. They proceed to verbally abuse you and it’s rather amusing when they are so entirely wrong but blame you for the error in their thinking.

Some days, guests recognize the tireless work you do trying to meet everyone’s needs and keep a business running as smoothly as possible and they gift your staff with an ice cream cake.

Some days, that day is today.

Turbulence

a bird with steel wings

throttling through an overcast sky

no maternal instincts to teach me to fly

But how to pray and read and sit with strangers

watch future precipitation gestate in the atmosphere

Just outside a porthole window a clear barrier between us and open sky

shimmies and shudders as we skirt over lower storms

riding in this quaking mechanical avian

Putting all of myself in the hands of some man with a dream

And all my trust in the one just beyond the cloud so close to my hand

I feel rain