Time is a funny thing. It keeps me up at night. It speeds me through my day. It stresses me out and I never seem to have enough of it. But what is time, really?
Why does it dictate my life the way I allow it to? Why do I dread looking at the clock only to rush my way through the day?
I sit and think. And think and think.
I’ve been told to embrace each moment as if it’s the last. Hoping that tomorrow will make more sense and that life will pan out…. in time. But tomorrow will soon be my yesterday. And my yesterdays are full of hope for tomorrow. Today will soon be yesterday too…. What did I get out of it aside from a muddled memory of running through the rat race of life? Will the moments add up and finally click for me? Or will I continue to work to live and live to work in this rut I call independence?
I appreciate the small things in life… a child’s smile. The warm windy breeze. The sound of waves crashing. The warmth of my blankets. I appreciate the kind gestures of others. The way my chest sinks when I can make someone else smile. The feeling of a warm embrace. It is those moments that have filled my life with joy. They have outweighed the uncertainties. But I can’t help to question why. Why do the little things mean so much when the negative seems to come in waves of destruction?
How is it that my stress levels can bring me to my knees in tears yet a simple song can remove the pain? A kiss on my forehead or a hand run through my hair?
The questions keep coming and I have yet to find the answers. Maybe I will in time… but again, what is time?
Lost in my mind with a million thoughts surfacing… one after another. The maybes. The what ifs. The whys. The why nots. Memories of beauty. Of pure bliss. Memories of sadness and gut wrenching pain. They bring back emotions that seem to be reborn; even for just a moment or two, they become alive again. Some memories have faded and some disappear all together until they reinvent themselves in what seems to be a dejavu but is really just a lost memory that was buried to get through.
It’s these kinds of days…. those kinds of days that my words can’t explain. My tears can’t wash away. And my heart can’t understand.
It’s these kinds of days…. those kinds of days…. that drape my soul with the heaviness that I once carried morning and night. The cloth that once veiled my interpretation of life has come back to remind me of who I was and who I’ve been. Where I’ve been and what I’ve seen.
Even though they still reside deep within me… and surface every now and then. I don’t run from them anymore. I don’t hide. I just sit. I sit and let it say what it has to say. I let it convey whatever it needs to convey. I sit and I welcome it. I nurture it and embrace it. And then I let it go. I release the pain and the sadness of memories that were never made. I release the loss of all I had hoped to have.
Once the cloak is lifted, once I have rebalanced my inner self: I open my eyes back to my reality…. back to the me I now know…. and I reflect. And I disect. And I push myself to move. Knowing…. understanding…. that I am love. And I will never face anything that my heart can’t withstand. That it will be okay. That I will be okay. That I am okay.
It’s days like these…. days like those…. that the world around me doesn’t exist.
Going through the words, poems, stories and memories that I have recorded on paper over the past few years can make my heart tremble at times. The pain that drenched so many of my days still lingers silently in the background of my mind.
Inside of me:
Every moment, every day
navigating through; trying to find my way…
lonely sidewalks calling,
they all know my name
drenched in sorrow, sadness and
a tangled unnamed shame…
Every thought I process
another turn in this lonely game.
My words were so heavy with sadness, confusion and pain…. I remember looking at myself in the mirror not recognizing who I was behind the fake smiles that I wore most every day.
Reflecting on those words makes me that much more grateful for where I am today… As impossible as it once seemed, I have found the light at the end of my tunnel and have made peace with my past and my pains. My journey is far from over and I’m sure there will be more hurdles…. But my heart no longer hurts as it did before. My soul no longer longs for anything more. It took years, it took patience, it took strength and it took more soul searching than I could have ever imagined, but after a long battle of confusion within myself, I found light.I found peace. And I am finally free.
sometimes we wonder
sometimes we wander
sometimes we stay in one place
often times we worry
often times we scurry
through the days in our current time and space
our hearts do the feeling
our minds do the thinking
our souls doing all and everything in-between
but, who do we follow?
who do we need?
what will we do to succeed?
why do we falter?
why do we second guess?
everything our heart feels…
and the thoughts our mind possess?
what is it that scares us?
what is it that holds us back?
what is it that chokes us so calmly and slow
that we can’t seem to stay on track?
we are like the lone rider
on a trail of our own
no support group to rally
even in our own home
but knowing we don’t need them;
the ones who claim to be but aren’t…
is our key to ultimate growth
fake smiles and fake clapping
they peer over your shoulder
pretending they care
when truly, your suffering is what they thrive on
open all the windows and the let the smoke cascade out
the battle you fight is more than internal
it’s all them without a doubt
be bigger in mind, in spirit and in hope
you have to look beyond
the picture that their words spoke
you are only who you are
not what they make you think
you are only who YOU are
not the Kool aide they made you drink
open your eyes and look closer
they have come between you and your ambition
you are their poster girl with no poster
you are all that they want to be
As mother’s day approaches I reflect on my vision of a mother. They come in all sizes, colors and at different prices.
Growing up as an orphaned child within my own family is a hard reality to accept. But it is what I have.
My bio mother was the one who’s roof I slept under and who’s money paid for my food, but not who’s heart was there for me.
I celebrate mother’s day as a motherless child in a grown woman’s body. And I’m okay with that.
I remember feeling alone and realizing that I was abandoned emotionally at a very young age. In fact, my earliest memories are from when I was 3 or 4 years old looking for a way to leave my family. Praying to god that someone would take me away…. Becoming reclusive and creating my own world internally to get through my days.