Trust Exercises

Did everyone do trust exercises
at some point?

There was one weekend that I couldn't
NOT go on that they did them
but I didn't trust anyone at the camp
and in an odd turn of events
nearly every adult understood the irony of
trying to force a trust exercise. So I never did it.

And that's the story of why
I don't trust anyone enough
to fall backwards into their arms
out of a tree.
not even at confirmation camp
not even if god himself or herself
told me to let go and fall back.

And two whole days of talking incessantly
about my supposed faith
and singing at the top of my lungs at a place
who rarely remembered my name
and sleeping badly
did nothing to improve my faith or my trust.
Mostly what it did was make it all the more painful
when a little while later
the people I thought were my friends
decided that we weren't any more.

There are lots of days
where all I can think is that there was never enough
trust to leap out of a tree
or off the swings
or into the water
and that is why I like to read
I can throw myself into the book
and know that I can come up for air
I can trust that no one will try to drown me.

Tangled

The amazing part
is that when my hair was chopped off
when I said
just do what looks good
I'm not afraid

I became
unafraid.

Funny how these things
work.

Fun Parts

"I'm never speaking up again
it only hurts me.
I'd rather be a mystery
than she desert me.
Oh I'm never speaking up again...
starting now."

The fun parts
are when I remember
that no matter how often I straighten my hair
and paint my nails
there is no way I could change myself
that would make you love me

The fun parts are
when I finally have something to go to
that doesn't make me react viscerally with anxiety
but I take the meds to feel better for the next body horror
and lo and behold! They make me feel worse.
and so not only did I miss what I was looking forward to
but now i can joyously be worried about how I affected

The fun parts are
never knowing what to wear
because who knows what everyone will expect from you
what to bring for a present to someone who has known your name
since you were born
but couldn't tell you your favorite color
or what you like.

The fun parts are how my stomach hurts
and how when I'm falling asleep
I can remember either the really good parts
(how her arms feel, what the air felt like that night
what it felt like to be loved)
or the really bad ones
(two hours of crushing loneliness, keep that smile on,
why don't you invite me over? what if they hate me)
but never just the normal ones.

The fun parts are how
when I remember that he came over
and told me to dance with him
when I got home, what I remembered
was that his hand felt like yours
and I will never feel your hand like that again.

The fun parts are how
I will fuck you up
if you look at my cat or my kids or my friends wrong
but it is okay if you hate me
I don't mind too much as long as I know.
I hate surprises, especially ones where I thought someone was okay with me
turns out to really really not be.

These are the fun parts.

No Ordinary Wings

And today was the day
I swear to keep this open until
I have finished a post or
I'll never get anything done.
There are so many words in my head and
I worry that they won't get out and
will eventually break their way out of my head.

I've become quite taken with Frozen,
it's become my latest Brave and Tangled,
and as always, I love my disney princesses
talkative and funny and preferably with crazy hair.

Sometimes I think about what it is like
to wrap my arms around his waist. It's not a fantasy-
I do it as often as I see him. But it feels somewhere between
good and odd in reality.

I went to an Event a little while ago
and it was somewhere between dreadfully awful for a while
and absolutely lovely
and the truths I've learned are that
I feel horribly sad about watching children become adults
and watching a wedding for some people really feels like that
and the feelings of isolation are real, no matter where I go
but sometimes I'll have brief moments of respite
and the loneliness lifts
and there are documented pictures of me laughing with people
and goofing off
and since when does that happen
and tequila and coke should not mix
but sitting at a table full of people who can match your crazy stories
make for fascinating conversation.
and dancing was terrible and fun.

God this was terrible
reading and writing.

I walked with you Once Upon a Dream

The things I have learned about you
go as follows:

you remember my orders when we
go out to eat
but you try to get me to eat new things.
you let me pick where we eat
even when I don't want to.
you read to me once when i was sick
sorry for picking a book that was french
and love my ever wayward paths
that always end in crazy hair
you know my painful memories are often
the best ones i have

 you introduce me to your friends
and makes sure I feel safe and taken care of
especially when I'm feeling lonely and isolated
and you make me take pictures
that I am grateful for in the long term
and you listen when I read the most random things
out loud
and even though I never want anything but pho
and bahn mi, you still let me pick.
you made me watch ocean's 11 and 12
and I hate it
and you are still not happy about that
you remind me not to let my anxiety
rule over me
and you remind me
I don't have to be alone
to reach out when I feel trapped

You like pizza and games too much
(little caesars, seriously, all the time)
and you laugh when my favorite characters kiss
(BUFFY!)
and you hate clothes and only ever want to wear pajamas
(if I'm lucky)
and sometimes you say mean things to the cat
(but only when she's trying to eat wires)
you have only complained about 4 times about the music i choose
in the car
as opposed to the every single time I complain
when you choose.

when I am with you
I remember that you love me
for all of the things
the good the bad and the heinous bullshit
and not in spite of them.

let's go to greece and rome
to florence and naples
and the french countryside
and to ireland and the bahamas
to montreal and prince edward island
let's go on every roller coaster i can stand
(which is rare)
and go to all the water parks
(much better)
and all the beaches
I want to see the world with you.
let's get a big dog to go with our cat
who licks our faces
you and your friends dance with me

and I feel loved often

It was Oprah

On occasion
the sound of my thoughts
become too much
they are too loud

i spoke to people
friends if I was talking to anyone
but in truth
just people about whom I could quote facts
but no one I intimately know
and told them about my job and how sometimes
three sentences come out at once
and they sound odd
the words and letters all flow together
but it came out sounding like some language
no one has found yet

once upon a time
i was given a small gift
for christmas I think
and it was a magazine subscription
and it was between a million different ones
and I've always liked magazines but I rarely
get subscriptions
they just aren't on my radar as much as books and other
storytelling formats are
and i was thrilled in some small way
because I could choose what I wanted
so I told the gift giver that I wanted something
either Oprah (I'm a sucker for happy endings and
women that feel like I might know them)
or some sort of fashion magazine
(they are the guilty pleasure I've nearly ceased
in the last few years)
and I was told
that I had to get the Parenting magazine instead
so that's what they gave me
and I dutifully read it for a year
and I maybe still have some issues around
But I bought myself a subscription a few days ago
to a magazine I liked
something I wanted
and the moral of the story is
nothing
except sometimes people give strange gifts
with odd rules attached.

The Great Gatsby
is one of those things that I have mixed feelings about
which makes it one among many but
the loneliness of the characters is always painfully striking for
me.
I finally watched Perks of Being a Wallflower.
I read the book a long long time ago and remember being
struck by the words
verbalizing the feelings that come around for many of us
whether we're in high school or not
the feelings of isolation
I buy and read watch stories about the isolation
I am constantly battling against.
I write because I am lonely and because the words
make me feel more connected
and the loud music and the stories make me feel
like I could be a part of something.

When I was younger
I used to sleep with my bed full
of books. What I mean when I say that
is that since I have been 6 years old, my bed has
been full of books.
in the bed
under the pillows
between the mattress and box spring and of course
dozens over the bed.
But since last year, I just sleep with my kindle
which happens to have over 900 books
so I haven't really changed all that much in 22 years
at least in regards to my books.

today
when i was about to send a message
that was supposed to read
'please call'
what I actually wrote
was 'please call, for the love of god'
I can't imagine my boss would be pleased
and fortunately I caught myself before I sent it
but it made me chuckle
because I can charm anyone
but I always identify when they rub me incorrectly.

sometimes i have to figure out
how to tell people that people have died
or other rough things
I have difficulty conveying urgency
because of a lifetime of downplaying painful things
so sometimes this job can be a little weird.

you were fleeting

last night i found out
that I don't really know how she died
I know how people think she died
but I didn't know her name
or who she loved
or how she loved or any
of the whys
and there are so so many

But I don't, really,
know how she died
I don't know if she did it
or if someone else did it
I don't know if she loved me or
remembered me
but I know that we've had the same thoughts
what if I just got up and walked?
only she did it
what if

no grave for me to visit.
only lots of jewelry
and fading memories
and painful questions I am
too afraid to ask
and too afraid to know the answers
and a family history on both sides now
of holes in our heads
and our hearts.