What I’m Doing/Where I Am

It’s been a long time since I have written here about how I am and what’s been going on with me. I am reaching out now because I need support, I need affirmation, and reassurance.

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I have been okay. And yet/on the other hand/also/somehow… I am not okay at all.

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Things are good in that I have been getting outside, taking care of my body, and keeping busy. Trying to find solace in nature. But it’s not always enough. What about my mind, and my emotions, and mental health? I try to work on them, to focus on improving my emotional regulation and coping skills. But somehow that always gets pushed aside. School comes first. Work comes first. Physical health comes first. How do I take care of myself emotionally? Some days I’m not sure I even know how to. At all.

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I have slowly been breaking down under all the demands.

I think I will have to quit grad school. Until now I have always found a way to power through my classes and assignments, push through the rough patches, and scrape by in the end. I don’t know if I can do that right now. It’s breaking me.

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Facing the idea of dropping out of school is at once relieving and terrifying. What is my purpose if not for this degree and this career? Who will I become; what will I do?

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I’m scared of what will happen if I keep going. I like this program but it is so emotionally demanding and exhausting. And I’m so tired. I just want to rest.

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to process

to process the grief
sometimes i need to let my fingers
my eyes
do the talking, instead of my mouth
which fumbles for vocabulary and spills
out something i’m still not sure about

i need to water myself like a jade plant
and perk up, greener than before

i need to hold myself tightly
and never let go, trusting
that i will always be here

Morning

Ants were moving over their red sand nest
like satellites rearranging amongst the constellations,
orbiting the opening that led
to a damp dark infinite nest of mazes.
The smell of rot wafted across the yard,
something like the stench of decomposing flesh
or wet soil unearthed into the sunlight for the first time.
It was like the baking of clay
with seaweed and ocean life hardening inside.
The sun was a sedative bearing down on her,
heating the backs of necks and
lulling all into a state of apathetic bliss.
She watched the morning unfold
in the crabgrass: the grasshoppers blinking
in and out of sight; the willow branches drifting
like cheery, lazy pennants; swallows free-falling
to the ground in graceful undulations.

Snowy Morning/For Emily

The snow falling this morning reminds me of you
Tree limbs so crisp and the world is new

I sit at my window, watching the street
To reminisce and envision the next time we meet

My heart knows I likely won’t see you again
So my imagination must fill that void in

Are you building a snowman, or tunneling deep
To a whole different world where wild wolves sleep?

Are you sipping hot cocoa and playing a game
Of witches and fairies and dragons to tame?

Are you running through snowdrifts, wild and free
Knowing all of the good things you’ll be?

I sit at my window, not crying, not really
Recalling the serious times and the silly

Thinking back to our jokes, our games, and our smiles
The frustration and anger every once in a while

When you love someone, see, each memory sticks
So you carry them always in your bag of tricks

And when I start to miss you, I’ll think of those days
We acted like sloths creeping down the hallways

The students and teachers all looked so confused
When we said, “We’re just slothing around, how ‘bout you?”

I wish you goodbye as snow creates a fresh place
And hope wherever you are, you’re smiling and safe

What’s that smell?

Poverty doesn’t just look like
an empty kitchen, smell like dust and stale air.
This kind of poor smells alarming,
like something is very sick
It looks more shameful

And the children know it. They say,
“Miss, what’s that smell?” and look
towards one of their classmates
And I have to say, “Don’t you worry,
we’re taking care of it, now
get back to your writing.”

And in their eyes, I see
no gratitude, just a quiet grief

Resolved

Why did you leave me that night
terrified, all alone in that big house
sloppy and stumbling and then throwing up
and not remembering and chewing pills
and taking long gulps of gin and vodka, why
did you leave, how could you?

And when she asked, “Resolved?”
I said yes.
And she marked it down on the chart then
said, as an afterthought
“I guess those things are never really resolved though.”

Salt

I salt our toast,
spread avocado thick and ripe.
I worry the drive to the coast will strain
this friendship
so we stop in the fog
to catch salt in our lashes.

The coast of my bed drops off
into thick fog. I lash our friendship
to the bow, ride through the night.
We strain to spy land
or taste something other than salt.

Fog seeps through the curtains,
invades the coast, thickens in our lungs.
A friendship under strain; I lash out.
You are salt in my wounds.

This friendship is thick with salt.
I strain to leave the coast, but
the fog has lashed me down.