9/29/2023
“It’s a struggle, and it always will be. Sometimes the darkness comes on, as though I’m falling into a pit. I have to look at the darkness, and, in an act of pure will, try to put a space of objectivity between me and it. To say, “Okay, there it is. It’s haunting me”. It doesn’t cure me, but it does allow me to function and, inevitability, work out of the horror, knowing that yes, the horror will come again, and know that yes, I can survive it”. -MMV
The oxygen in the room suddenly was out of reach
I found myself in a vacuumed sealed room
His voice became clear and slow
The presence of others became distant
I wanted to run
But my feet were rooted to the ground
My face felt hot
Like a spot light had been turned on above me
He spoke
He put words to something I never could
I worried others would smell me
See that I too, in fact, spoke this language
I felt the rumble
Coming from a place long silenced
The monster that lives in me has been awoken
Fear moved through my skin
It ached
I desired to rip it off
Start fresh, start clean
I might as well been standing there naked
Then I could make sense of the noise
Make sense of the current moving through me
Had I known the earth would come up from beneath me…
I wouldn’t have come
I can speak to darkness
To Her mess
But this, there are no words
It’s a language
One I didn’t realize I spoke until that very moment
9/26/2023
Adagio for strings fills the room
I place my hands over my chest
Trying to contain the pace
By the end, I’m trembling
When nightmares haunt you relentlessly
You never think you’re unfamiliar with the timeline
I opened Pandora’s box
No where near prepared for what’d begin seeping out
The more I’m confronted with
The more I feel out of my depth
I hold the clips as they flash through my mind
Stretching them further and further
Finding words, art, messages, anything
That may have survived the fires of my rage
I’m both relieved and disappointed at how little is left
The intensity of the words scare me
But the lack of words is more terrifying
Remembering how so much was left unsaid, unexpressed…
9/20/2023
Tonight’s a waxing crescent moon
I take a deep breath
Filling my lungs with poison
I walk into his house
My nostrils fill with nostalgia
Smells like him
Like well-read books
Worn out shelves of movies
I feel him lighten up as his eyes find my face
Again, I’m hit with the realization I misinterpreted my importance
His smile is so big, I can’t help but smile back
He looks much better than the last time I saw him
He asks about my life
He grins at the ceiling as I describe my home
“I’m so proud of you. Man, I’m. so. Proud”
His face begins to blur
I thank him
But he doesn’t let me dismiss it
“You beat the standard”
He reminds me of where statistics placed my limits
“I don’t mean this in a bad way. You have every right to be proud of yourself”
I can’t help but shed a few tears
I don’t know a life without him in it
He has no relation to me
No blood ties us together
In fact, he comes from a different world
He’s known for his grumpiness
His rigidness
He’s lived so much of his life alone
Strict, stoic, particular
But I could always feel his kindness
We understood each other’s need for silence
He allowed me to enter his life on my terms
Filling my memories with moments of respite
Giving me access to one of my escapes, water
He states, “I hope you think of the good things”
But there’s only good things…
Trips to bars at noon for the best burgers
Corn on the cobb on a barbecue after a swim
Excitement over picking a movie off his museum of movies
He doesn’t call me family
Family has left him with wounds lasting 88 years
He’s my family though
He’s my grandpa
See, I’ve been lucky to have three grandfathers
Losing my paternal grandfather threw a bomb into my life
Shifting the foundation so profoundly I had to rebuild
Maybe my grandfather knew I needed more time
Maybe he knew he needed family
Whatever the reason, I know it was destiny
Meant to be just as it was and has been
He’s a grouch so he’d never show it
But he asks about me
He worries
Watches over me
Ready to step in if needed
He signs every card, “your friend, xxx“
Never missing an opportunity to hand me my $2 bill
I have an envelope full of these bills
His gift from Japan hasn’t moved an inch
Faded from the sun now, I know it’s his $2 bill
“I’m lucky to know someone who’s smart. As smart as you”
“You might not think you’re a big deal but it is a very big deal”
He tells me he hopes he’s around to see what I’m about to do next
I restrain myself from leaping onto his body
We go back to familiar humor and sarcasm
He’s never spoken like this
I wasn’t ready for it
I was ready for the grumpy
I realize, I must prepare for what is to come
The loss of my two abuelos…
The clock ticks louder
I’m not ready to lose another grandpa
That’s the big deal
9/19/2023
(EMDR Session)
It’s been three days
I hear myself rate the memory as a 0
Part of me believes it
But there’s a quieter, more sinister part that knows that’s not true
I hope she doesn’t see this part
But she does
The ball moves back and forth
I notice, irritability
She’ll see, there’s nothing
I notice tingling in my chest
The ball goes back and forth
There’s this sharp pinch on my collarbone and it spreads
Like water, it moves around my skin
It’s uncomfortable
Feels like hitting your funny bone but the intensity doesn’t die out
And it’s on every inch of skin
The ball goes back and forth
She prompts me and I follow guidance
The sensation is intolerable
It’s moving everywhere
It’s like my skin isn’t part of me and I need to detach from it
I need to peel it off
I find myself like a stone
The current tortures me as my fear becomes muffled
There is a hole in my chest
I can’t move my head to see
But I can’t feel anything
It’s like something took a chunk of my chest out
I attempt to move my arms and legs but it’s so heavy
My face feels rigid
I try to move my jaw and forehead
I’m disconnected
Offline
I’m prompted
My voice is hard to find
Irritation finds me again as I struggle to say, “it’s the same”
The ball goes back and forth
She asks me to speak
I have nothing to say
Suddenly my jaw is trembling
The air is hard to reach for
The tears soak my face
The ball goes back and forth
The current moves over every pore intensifying with every attempt to breathe
My hands and legs began shaking uncontrollability
The noise begins to increase in volume
I’m bracing for impact
I boil over and in between gasps I find the word
“RUN”
Like a light switch, I’m off again
I don’t know how
But I’m heavy
My breathing feels so slow
My limbs are asleep
The ball goes back and forth
The ball blurs out
It’s a nicer feeling
I feel sleepy
She won’t let me stay here
“Find Her”
“Take Her hand and run”
This place is limiting but my skin isn’t crawling away from me
The vibrating stops here
But I try
I’m on the sidewalk
Staring at the house, at the driveway
I can hear Her
I take steps towards the drive way
I feel She grips my hand
I close my eyes
Her hand intensifies the voices
I can’t move
The ball moves back and forth
I try
My legs won’t move
Her hand is like a weight
I feel the scream start from a place that’s never ending
“I can’t!”
Panic sets in
The ball stops
I can’t focus on the prompts
The voices are too loud
I’m so heavy but my body is trembling
I can’t pry my jaw open
She keeps trying
Please don’t leave me here…
I’m overwhelmed with the desire to die
She helps me
Takes the shovel and begins scoping loads of this stuff into the vault
Eventually, I pick one up
I’m shoveling the shit
We return Home
The stalls muffle the noise
The smell of the dirt and horse hair brings me back
I double check the vault
I get up and feel grateful for the distance
I fill my glass and stay offline
9/15/2023
Grief
I’m learning to take a peek at what I’ve buried long ago. Opening a time capsule. I’ve found intensity.
I resisted the reality. I couldn’t speak the truth so creating a different story was easier. Made losing my voice easier.
As I grieve the life I’ve had. All the emotions overtake me. I’m not safe from fear or shame. There is less resistance now.
I don’t seek retribution or revenge. I ache for Her.
I grieve for Her.
I explore what I might need.
I want to put it down. I want my voice back. I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t.
These facts about my life are ugly.
None of us are perfect or good all the time. I’ve struggled with hating my baggage and mistakes. It’s not my responsibility to shield others from their mistakes. I’ve had to face my own. Who you were or are in my life is just a split second on an eternal timeline. Whether you are the good or bad guy in my story. It’s just fact. You can’t argue actions and behaviors but you can argue their meaning. Try to justify them.
This is my lived expereince of you in that moment and time. I’ve felt so crazy all my life. Confused about how I felt because I couldn’t be so messed up. I must have created it from thin air. I’m messy because my life was hard. Very hard… Crazy helped me survive it.
She saved my life.
9/15/2023
I feel odd in my own body lately
This started recently but not sure exactly when
Maybe in the last month or so
I image this feeling is what babies' feel when they first notice their hands and feet
Noticing you have legs and awkwardly trying to learn to use them
I feel odd because it feels different
It's not that it's not authentic
It's odd that it is
I noticed the difference when I'm alone
But I'm more aware of it in interactions
I think maybe from the outside it looks like being "bubbly"
I'm definitely still hidden in many ways
I generally don't like people
I prefer interactions with a selected few
Lately, it just seems less draining
Maybe that's not a good description
People can still be very draining
I guess I have a better understanding of my objective in the interactions
Sounds like manipulation
Probably is honestly
But I know I rather not be there or have the conversation
I just got good at finding something rewarding about it
I really don't know what this is yet
I've always been fine talking to people
I can put on a front and engage in mindless small talk that slowly drains me
I know how to make others feel seen, heard
Get them to keep talking about themselves so they don't ask me any questions
I found ways to make people think they know me
Feel like they do without ever really knowing much
That all still seems the same
Something just FEELS different
9/15/2023
I talk to myself a lot
I use to think it was a reflection of my instability
With all the voices in my head
Why add one more?
But it's like finding a clearing in a meadow
I can focus on one thought or emotion
Dissect and reflect on it
Sometimes it leads to nowhere
Sometimes the clarity eases my racing mind
The noise in my head can be distracting
It's so hard to explain the intolerable noise coming from silence
Sometimes it's so intense that engaging isn't enough
So I'll pace back and forth
Existing is such an odd experience
I often find myself watching myself, watch myself
I have never ending questions about life
About existing and experiencing
It's fascinating and saddening all at once
I feel alone in this
There must be others who feel this too, right?
At times I feel so connected to the world
Other times, I feel fooled by it
How can you have access to see so much
Yet, understand you know so little?
9/14/2023
Every time he texts me, I’m consumed with LOVE
Some times I’m not a very good texter
And he surely isn’t either
But like clockwork we find our way back to each other
He fills me with love I cannot not explain
And cannot compare
I stayed for him
It’s always been for him
I’d never tell him that
Not that directly at least
Because if I ever lost the battle, I know he’d only wonder why
Why he no longer was enough
He’s always been enough
He always will be
Leaving him was hard
We had several conversations about it to prepare him for the move
If I’m honest, maybe they were primarily for me
I needed to know he was ok and was going to continue to be ok
I needed his permission to only care for myself
I don’t regret the last 17 years even the slightest
I’m appreciative and proud of the role I have in his life
I’ve invalidated my importance for most of it
I believed my role was small
Only in the last few years have I started to own I’m a good mother
But when he texts me…
I truly feel it
He doesn’t hold back in expressing his love and appreciation
He feels safe and seen with me
It’s all I ever wanted for him
He needed to know he wasn’t and would never be alone
He’s growing up and into an amazing human being
Our relationship has to shift, it has to change
I love it and I hate it
My baby is growing up
I’m a grieving mother
Learning to let go
But I’ll always make sure he knows I’m never far behind
9/13/2023
(Dream)
I wake to leave the two story house
As I exit animals rush in
xxxx comes
I mention I'm leaving
A lion rushes in and starts smelling me and holding on to me
I'm fearful, so is xxxx
He passes
I go back up stairs to get dressed
xxxx follows and exits into another room
I tell him to be careful
There are plants everywhere
I notice they're dead
I touch one and bugs come from the soil
Large-like house flies
They're black with red spots and they fly at me
Like they're mad
I grab a natural spray and spray at them
Suddenly there is less but ones left die
I go back looking for clothes
I wake up
9/10/2023 Loving Her
This city quickly became home
This took me by surprise
I’ve never cared for the city of Los Angeles
I didn’t understand the draw towards it
Los Angeles is chaos
It’s loud and intense
This city is a game of Russian roulette
You can never know all the edges and corners
But you know secrets hide in alleys
How can anyone find beauty in all this mess?
There are many things I could do without in this city
But they’ve become things that just are
I had things I loved and things I hated
But I couldn’t have the things I loved without mess
I can’t quiet say it’s a love/hate relationship even
The things I hated have now become things I accept
A complete parallel to my relationship with Her
I find it humorous
That the city I once dismissed now holds a special place in my heart
It is the city I learned to fall in love with myself
9/10/2023
The point was never about getting better at dealing with the pain
I use to think it was about becoming stronger
I believed I was too weak and that's why it was all so heavy
I believed the point was to managing it
But I didn’t need a lesson on how to suffer
I’ve been doing it all my life
A course on “how to live with pain”
Was never of use to me
The point was to learn to experience joy
Such a simple and overlooked word
Three letters so often used in the English language
One included in my own vernacular
I didn’t understand
I couldn’t feel joy
I could hear it and I could speak it
But it never stood the chance of penetrating through the noise
All I could even do was close my eyes and muffle screams
Hope the intensity would pass soon
And it did, in waves. It just always came back
Learning to take peek wasn’t about being stronger
It about giving myself the chance to look for the joy in all the chaos
Grief is an old friend of mine
I didn’t need to look for it
It just always was
With my eyes open I can choose to seek something more
In the heaviness and haze I can see it
I can access it
Joy
“Learn to feel joy”
Yes.
9/2/2023
I’m happy.
Not in a naive kind of way.
Life hasn’t transformed into a fairy tale.
The ugly, messy darks parts of me still exist.
I’m not so scared anymore though.
I’ve learned to take a peek.
The crazy isn’t so bad.
I kind of like Her.
There’s magic in Her darkness.
The happiness is understanding.
It’s acceptance and peace.
Owning my magic.
Even on the days its heavy.
9/1/2023
(Letter to the sister I always wanted and finally found)
I’ve always been able to feel her
This made it easy for me to find her when she retreated into corners
I could see her despite the walls she put in place
I understood that kind of fear
Walls only built in response to wounds I know all too well are easier forgotten
She was easy to love. Despite my own reservations with intimacy
She found her way into my heart without my knowing
The first time I witnessed her walls drop I was flooded with grief
It pained me to watch her river flow
That’s when I knew I loved her
Because without thinking, I dropped my guard to show her some of my mess
To meet her in her suffering
I risked harm and received acceptance instead
I have loved her ever since
Our connection is quietly rooted
It’s unspoken-beneath the surface yet so obvious
I’ve been running all my life and I may never stop
But I’m learning to pause
Trying to articulate my thoughts and emotions is challenging
Have patience as I find my way
In the moments of pause, I am flooded with all the things that come from knowing you
I do not know your thoughts or feelings but I can feel the love you mercilessly shower me in
It overwhelms me in these pauses
You may not know the darkness of my mind
Might not know all the ugly and broken but I have given you glimpses
And you have loved me despite it all
I abandoned parts of myself long ago
I believed these parts were unlovable
I banished Her in forbidden exhibits
I couldn’t feel any compassion for Her
I’m beginning to understand something you always have
Thank you for loving Her when I couldn’t
You’ve helped me heal in ways I never thought I deserved
Instead of giving up you only loved me harder
I don’t know how my story ends but there are things you have to know before I go
I know our love is unspoken but it is worthy of words
In the last 13 years I have seen countless layers of change in you
The timeline is beautiful to me
Much in the way that art is- unintentional and resulting in magic
I think you’re beginning to see that for yourself and that brings me great joy
I’ve spent so much of my life scared
I’ve spent it believing I was small
I was stuck in a time where I was small, defenseless, and unwanted
I’ve moved through spaces accepting this narrative although secretly desiring to be wanted
To be loved
Yet, knowing nothing about what it looked like only what it wasn’t
I’ve feared touch, love, intimacy. I feared being known because even though I want it-
It meant risking another injury
Another disappointment
My life left me fearful, depressed, but also angry
Without the anger I wouldn’t be here.
Anger moves you. It was my fuel
You can’t move in spaces of fear or grief, but anger drives you to fight
I’m tired. Always so tired but I don’t want to be scared anymore
Not with you
I don’t believe there’s a need for that
I don’t want to withhold
I want to be recklessly raw
It needs to be said for me to be at peace
Not just in life but in death
I’ve watched you use your words like blades and cut yourself down
I’ve watched you struggle to find yourself
I watched you fight to see your worth
I could never see the things you saw
But how could you describe colors to someone who’s always been blind?
I guess I understood that kind of blindness
You can’t explain it or teach it
It needs to be seen and lived
I’m happy to know you
I’m lucky to be loved by you
Thank you for being my family.
8/25/2023
The nightmare started as abruptly as it ended. Starts and ends with the sound of a door opening.
I wake up sweaty. My chest is tight and my stomach aches. I notice the roaming tension in my body as I sit up. "What the fuck?" Is my first thought.
I summon the memory of the nightmare in search of what it means. But the brief images and sound intensify the fear in my body.
The vomit fills my throat. What is it with the vomit man? I head to the restroom. As the vomit sinks back the grief rises. "A fucking door?" "What is it with a fucking door?"
Doors opening and closing do briefly startle me. Even if they aren't slammed. If I can't anticipate it then it does bother me but it's so mild I never thought much of it. Or maybe I'm just used to it. Doors are everywhere and they all open and close. The sound of a door will make me sit up right... doesn't it do that for everyone?
I feel sad thinking of this. Can't connect it to a thought but it's sadness. I feel the need to cry. "Poor kid man". I think of Her.
Doors. They're bookmarks for the openings between spaces. They could represent freedom. A form of escape from the space you're in. A transition. They're also privacy. Good and bad privacy. Good when you're standing alone behind the door. Bad when the danger is there with you. Then the door serves as concealment but not in the sense of protection. Just invisibility...
Sometimes they come with locks. That could mean safety if you're alone. If you're locked in, it could mean trapped...Or lonely. Real profound loneliness...
A door is like gunfire at the start of a swim match.The notice of something beginning. "Be ready for what is to come" it says. I'm anxious writing this. My hands feel numb. My chest is very heavy.
I'm trying to calm my brain. Ok, so it's the notice of something to come. What kind of somethings?
Violence. Chaos. Abuse. Violation. Death. Surrender. Fear.Suffering.
My hands are shaking. Breathe...I'm staring at this office door. I put the nightmare away but all these doors today... Doors everywhere! Suddenly I notice them and they're everywhereeeeee.
Ok, but this one is closed. I'm alone. I'm safe. No one is coming in. I control when it opens...
Breathe...
More somethings...
Loss of control.No safety.Anxiety.War. Frozen.Pain.Aches.Blood.Punishment. Soreness. Bruises. Tenderness. Disconnection from myself.
Open doors welcomed these things. My doors didn't have locks. They allowed scary things... scary people... to transition. To enter into my space. In and out whenever they pleased. The sound of the latch retreating from the door frame was my queue. That's my gunfire. I jump into the pool....I go from yellow to green...Prepare for impact.
I'm trembling. My body remembers. I know She's here. She's trying to warn me.
I hear you. These fucking doors let in so much crap. What do you want me to know about these doors?
My hands are trembling. I need to help Her. I place one hand on my forehead and the other on my chest. I'm trying to align my mind and soul with Her. What happened surprised me.I tell her, "I know you're scared and warning me. It's scary and it scares me too. You've been brave but now we have each other. I promise I'm trying to listen.
I love you xxxxx"
It rolled off my tongue like the most natural thing to say. I've never said that. Not even in my head. Never felt it. But I did say it. It was my voice and I felt it to be true. I open my eyes and look at my hands. They've stopped trembling. I'm crying.
8/20/2023
She can't be trusted with not hurting me.
So, if I don't give myself to her she can't.
And if she can't, I can see her without being in her line of fire.
I couldn't see her before. Even when I thought I could by letting myself feel the grief of anger.
I let myself explore the sadness until I discovered the rage.
In the rage I felt the depth of my pain.
I could see the anger came from an active wound.
One caused by my own mother.
I'd be justified in hating the women who gave me life.
It all began to loosen when I acknowledged, "I don't like her".
But that rage also blinded me.
I have stopped handing her the keys to the car.
She can't help but crash, so I drive.
A tingling feeling rushes over my body as I think, "I like her like this".
I realize I can not only love her but I can like her.
Just not as my mother.
I needed a mother but I no longer do.
The all-consuming desire has dissipated.
My soul can't reach her but it can see her.
I can watch her.
I can witness her fears, struggles, barriers, and limits.
I can love her as she lingers there.
And I can like her for all the ways she finds joy in that world.
It's ok mom. I got me now.
I can accept you like this.
Just as you are.
You can have access to my warmth without controlling it.
We can experience each other in that warmth and know we have learned how our connection works.
Appreciating the connection we have and letting go of the one we'd hope to have.
I forgive you.
I like you mom.
8/17/2023
(Dream)
Looking for a book because he asks me to come with a book. It was a specific request but I don't remember why I bring Harry Potter to show him.
I feel nervous and shy handing it over. He starts with the back of the book and says "that's it?". Not in a dismissive way but in a way that eases my nervousness. I show him the chapters and they're covered in doodles, phrases, and mess. Dark themes. Suffering and death.
He gives me his Harry Potter book. I'm surprised it's the same book.
The pages have careful needle blades all over. Just enough to not slice the page. Titles and edges have doodles and words.
I scan carefully. Touch the lines and tilt for reflection of light on the pages.
It's messy. Dark. A lot of death and grief.
I find an illustration with hello kitty and a rabbit. Both dead.
I'm pleased with this image. It's in color and stands out.
He says, "I added her into it".
I'm invested in the details. I want to explore the pages. Dive into the mess of these lines and images. It's beautiful.
I look up and realize he's been watching me.
Not looking at the book with me.
It scares me and I awake.