A Bushel and a Peck

I miss the way you looked at me When we were young When we thought we would last forever There was a light in your eyes A shyness in your smile Love in your heart I was afraid to trust I was naive Uncertain A child You seemed sure You loved me In a way I had never been loved before You wanted to know me You wanted to be with me I didn't have to wonder about it I knew That was intoxicating I felt wanted I was wanted You were wanted too We had both felt unwanted So often, for so long Finally, we were both wanted We thought it was enough And it was for a while We thought we needed each other And maybe we did For a while Now I miss the light in your eyes The shyness in your smile The love in your heart But I finally love myself I finally want myself I see the light in my own eyes And feel the peace in my own heart I miss the goodness you once had I wish you still had it, for your sake, But I don't need you Not anymore

I'm trying to make Sweet Boy a birthday present. This present involves sewing. I have a bit of a natural talent for sewing, but very little education. I'm making this up as I go, which is both exciting and obnoxious. The project involves sewing a bunch of ribbons in straight lines on a blank piece of fabric. I just sewed the first one on. I put it down on the floor and stepped back to look at it. It's crooked. Crap. Now what? Failure Monster starts poking me with his stick, chanting different "maybes" at me. Maybe I'll have to redo it. Maybe picking the whole thing out will leave holes in the ribbon. Maybe I won't have enough leftover ribbon. If this line turned out crooked, maybe all the other lines I try will too. Maybe it will look stupid. Maybe this project is more trouble than it's worth. Maybe my idea to use ribbons in the first place was a stupid one. Maybe this is impossible. Maybe I should be using my time to do something not so stupid. Ma...

The other day, I was accused of debating based on my feelings, not on facts. This made me mad. Granted, I was already having a grouchy day, but it stung. I felt like I was being told that my arguments and opinions weren't valid because they weren't based on hard facts. Well, damn it. Here came the big old Failure Monster again, laughing in my face and poking me with his stupid stick. Shut up, Failure Monster. I hate you. For a while, I tried to validate myself. "Well, I simply operate from a position of theory, not hard facts. There's nothing wrong with that. Everyone is different. It's not that my arguments are invalid, they're just not how everyone wants to argue. Whatever. I'm still smart." And that's the issue. I was feeling like my intelligence and capability were under attack. When really, what this person was saying is that more is needed. I think my instincts and insights are good, but that's not all there is to life. It's imp...

Tonight I looked up at the stars And thought "I hope someday to find someone Who will sit with me And look at the stars And feel the same stirring in their heart And I will know I am not alone in my wonder."

I wrote a poem recently about my inner child. My inner child is the frightened, unsure, lonely part of me. The part who still suffers from the painful things that have happened to me. The part of me who desperately wants someone to take care of her, but doesn't really trust anyone to do it properly. She will always be there. I can choose to ignore her and let her stew in her misery, her fear. Or I can choose to help her. Because the thing is, I am also an adult now. I am intelligent. I know where to go if I need help. I know how to find answers to my questions. I know how to drive, I know how to make food, I know how to talk to other people, I know how to get myself where I need to go. My adult self knows things. Most importantly, my adult self knows how to take care of herself and other people. I think, too often, I give everything up to my child self. She seems to throw tantrums inside me when I get scared. Adult Me grows quiet as my inner child rages. My child self asks,...

I can be super sensitive to emotional pain and fear. Like, knowing someone else is afraid or in pain can sometimes debilitate me. I felt this way often as a kid, and it created a lot of anxiety and fear in me. I couldn't watch scary movies, I couldn't think too hard on other people's pain, I would often feel really uncomfortable for people who I perceived had embarrassed themselves in some tiny way. It was really challenging for me. As I got older, I found ways to cope - I would try to be more selfish, self-centered, as a way to avoid other people's pain. Not that I didn't care, but I tried not to get too close to people because it could be unbearable for me. I would feel responsible for their feelings. Today, for whatever reason, I'm hypersensitive again. I'm at the gym, thinking I'll go to the "cardio cinema" to watch a movie and maybe escape my own thoughts and other people's feelings for a bit. But the movie today is Godzilla. And i...

One of the most important things I have been coming to learn over the past few months is that I have incredible strength.  I have good instincts. I have good intuition. I have a talent for "reading" people. I have a compassionate heart. I have an intelligent mind. I have great moral strength. I have believed, most of my life, that I am weak. I have let Fear feed me lies, to cause me to doubt myself. I have allowed Fear to keep me small, in my box, isolated, lonely.  Fear was able to do this because my need to be loved by others was greater than my need to love myself. I let Fear control me in the hope that I could shame myself into becoming someone other people could love. I have always had an intense desire to be fiercely wanted, to be truly accepted, to be intimately understood by another person. I have believed that such things were more important to my happiness than anything else.  Now, as I let go of Fear, I see that I can love, understand, and accept...