I haven’t been writing poetry lately. Or really, much of anything. For the last four-ish years I have been writing on occasion, but nothing I am supremely happy with and everything I produced seemed to feel… different somehow. Not as powerful. Not as passionate. Some kind of watered down, mealy mouthed collection of niceties where the subject matter was literally no longer life or death.
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I thought to myself, tomorrow I will grab my book, Karaoke, that’s lighter fare! It has the Kylo Ren poem in it and everything. The next day, I grabbed a copy and flipped through it. Then I remembered what was actually in the book and the Kylo Ren poem doesn’t make up for the other 100+ pages of absolutely grinding trauma and pain.
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But then I went to visit my mom’s side of the family, the last time I ever did, and was kicked out of Thanksgiving. I came into that therapy session charged up and ready to unpack my what had happened. The psychologist brushed it off and kept returning to the topic of vegetables and how I needed to eat more of them.
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Have you ever been at the doctor’s and you tell them what your previous doctor told you to do and they can’t even hide their surprise and horror? I wish I didn’t. Let me tell you.
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They will say there were no signs.
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I was never a little girl who dreamt of my perfect wedding day. My childhood was spent surviving emotional abuse and neglect. I could never picture myself as an adult at all, let alone imagine myself walking down an aisle. The future was an encompassing gray haze to me. The only way to avoid getting lost in it was not to engage at all.
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In the midst of feeling like I am barely human, barely functioning, barely able to pretend anymore, an amazing opportunity comes along. Not sure if it will pan out. Not sure if I will be back on here complaining about missed chances in a few days. But having some hope for breakfast is the most filling meal.
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When it started happening, I was absolutely flummoxed. I had never experienced this before and had to take to the internet to figure out how to remedy it. We tried closing the shades first, to cut down on the reflection, but that had minimal effect. I needed to think bigger.
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One of the most constant aspects of my existence in fight or flight is having days when I am running on sheer adrenaline and my heart is pounding out of my chest. It feels like anxiety sometimes, it keeps me awake other times. Sometimes I am convinced I actually am having a heart attack and my ghost will return nightly to brag about finally being right.
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There is nothing the brides-to-be love more on wedding groups than discussing whether or not you should change your last name after marriage. As someone who changed their first and middle name back in 2014, I feel like a lot of people don’t understand the process of doing so or the implications changing your name has on the rest of your life.
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