Why Can't I?

Why can't I make sense of a simple chart?
Why can't I say what's on my heart?
Why can't I say no to what I don't want to do?
Why can't I feel pride when the day is through?

Why can't I get over the pain of the past?
Why can't I answer the questions people ask?
Why do I lie to make myself understood?
Why can't I do all the things that I should?

Why can't I keep my house clean at all,
why can't I finish a task, no matter how small?
Why can't I fix what's broken down?
Why can't I turn my life around?

Why can't I make myself understood?
Why can't I seem to do anything good?
Why can't I keep my mind focused at all?
Why can't I stop staring at blobs on the wall?

Why can't I stop caring what others think of me?
Why can't I start caring what I want to be?
Why can't I stop remembering he put me through?
Why can't I stop feeling bad for the things I can't do?

Why can't I let go of what I cannot fix?
Why can't I ignore folks and their politics?
Why can't I just live and let others live too?
I think that's what I'll do.

Heart in a Cage

Once it was someone else's rage that I hid from
Never sure what thing would make him mad
Now I feel as though a cage is my home
And my heart isn't always glad.

Sure, I'm happy to be home, secure.
I'm thankful for a place that's safe.
Still, why can't I decide what I need for me?
Why must I feel my feelings are a disgrace?

I need independence to decide on my own
What things are right for me to do.
I need the freedom to fly when I need to fly,
Not sit in my cage and coo.

I'm tired of following rules and regulations
I'm tired of being the good one, the best.
I'm tired of coloring in the lines,
I want to fly higher than all the rest.

I want to touch the clouds with my wings.
I want to soar with the eagles on high,
Not sit on my perch in this blasted old cage
Perpetually wondering why.

Why can't I go to the casino?
Why can't I do things by myself?
Sometimes when I say what I'd like to do
It seems like you are just deaf.

Yes, I know that we're married,
And I love you as I love no other.
But sometimes your love leaves me feeling
More than a little bit smothered.

I feel as if you treat me
Like you're scared that I'll go wild
If you let me do what I want to do --
You treat me like a child!

I know that you want what is best for me
And you're worried that I'll spend our money.
But what about my sanity?
Doesn't that matter too, honey?

I've been working so hard at work,
And it's been a hard couple of days.
I really need to get away
And have some fun in some way.

I'll be careful, I promise.
And responsible too.
I know what's at stake,
I won't disappoint you.

But I need to get away
From work and this house
Just for a little while.
I need to remind myself once again
Of the things besides you
That make me smile.

I wouldn't necessarily say that you're controlling,
But you definitely have a certain way
Of talking me into staying when I wanted to go
And not knowing what I should say.

It's not really like a guilt trip per se,
But I suppose that's what you could call it
And each and every freaking time,
I'm the one who falls for it.

So then I'm left with this slightly resentful feeling
That I don't like, left in my heart,
Wishing it would go away,
But it won't, it just tears me apart.

A Pool Full of Glue

My alarm reminds me that I must hurry
I chase away thoughts of going back to sleep.
Try as I might, I can't help but worry.
This day could be joyous or trouble so deep.

I dress in the dark so as not to wake hubby,
And kiss his warm cheek there,
So rosy and chubby.
How I wish I could stay there and snuggle all day.
But the clock says I cannot,
And time whisks me away.

Making coffee, making lunch.
Hear the cereal go crunch.
I'm not hungry, but I munch,
Forcing food inside my mouth
And praying it stays south and
Doesn't come back up to visit.
That's not a very nice thought,
Is it?

I put on a new shade of lipstick
And carefully coif my hair.
I've already donned my new outfit,
And I pray nobody will stare.

What little speck of confidence
I had found hidden in the corner of my soul
Is now cowering in the corner with my mountain of fears;
I'm left feeling helpless and far less than whole.

Who's supposed to teach the Teacher
How to stand up straight and tall?
Who protects the poor Professor
When she can't find her way at all?

But I lecture brilliantly,
Pass out tests, and collect exams.
Nobody would have the slightest clue
Of the nervous wreck that I am.

When I pass my colleagues in the hallway,
I smile. I wave. I nod.
But they must know I'm a fraud.
Surely they can see right through me
And smell my insecurity?

I try my best all day
To put forth confidence and swagger,
But truth be told I'm not feeling it,
And I've never been a bragger.

As the day drags on,
I can't wait to crawl home
And curl up on my bed
With a beer.
Noone can stare at me here.
I won't feel all this fear.
I won't wonder if I'm doing
All the things right.
All the time.

I'm so tired of putting on
A brave face.
Or slapping on a smile and pretending
I belong in that place.

I feel like an imposter.
I feel like a fake.
I feel like people are watching
Each move that I make.

I feel so alone there
Like everyone but me knows what to do
And I'm just swimming in the deep end
Of a pool full of glue.

Adrift

Adrift on a sea of nothingness,   
Just trying to stay afloat;
Wondering why I am flound'ring,
And wishing I had a boat.

I wouldn't say that I'm drowning;
That is silly -- I know how to swim!
But the waters flood all around me,
I'm engulfed by the mem'ries of HIM.

So many years have gone by 
Since he made me his unwilling slave.
Now here I am, decades later,
Still battling each stormy wave.

Up and down I wildly bob, 
While the flashbacks hit me like thunder.
The winds of regret buffet my sorry soul,
While the current of shame sucks me under.

I kick against the tangle of seaweed,
Those nightmares infesting my dreams.
No matter how happy my day might have been,
Still the night terrors come, so it seems.

I look for a sign 
Of an island nearby
A place I can rest,
Maybe curl up and cry.

But the tears never come 
They have run from me too,
So I drift in this ocean
Without knowing what to do.

I Used To Care

I used to be normal

I used to have pep

There used to be thoughts in my head that mattered

And spring in my step. 

I used to have hobbies.

I used to have fun.

There used to be days where I worked on a project

Until it was done.

I used to be happy

I used to have dreams

I used to make plans for the things I would do,

Now I'm lost, so it seems.

There once was a spark

In the depths of my soul

That told me that all was okay

And that I was whole.

Now I'm broken inside,

And the pieces are lost,

I can't trust anyone, 

For I know the cost.

They would all sell me out,

If they knew what I thought.

So I stick to myself and my thoughts are my own,

They don't know what I've got.

They are wrong about me,

They've been wrong from the start,

But they never asked me what was wrong,

And I don't have the heart

To try to fix things now,

My records are fixed.

They didn't knew, I supposed,

I left them perplexed.

So in the place of knowing,

They picked from a book,

Without asking me questions

Or taking a look

At what was going on in my life

Or what I was dealing with.

They just made crude assumptions

"She's a crazy, bored housewife."

As if I had nothing better to do

Than spend 6 months in jail --

That my idea of fun was getting shots

And losing weight and growing pale.

What ever happened to my rights

As a human being, just like them?

They treated me like an animal,

Shoved from cattle pen to cattle pen.

With no consideration whatsoever

For my feelings or my care,

They simply put me away in a box

And forgot they put me there.

Instead of making their own diagnosis,

Or taking the time to observe me,

They relied on the words and opinions of others,

Which continues to unnerve me.

When will someone take the time to be

Objective?

Why are all these supposed professionals so

Subjective?

I did, after all, once have a life.

I had things to do, I had a job of my own.

I was a teacher and doing just fine

Until some idiot picked up the phone

And called in the cavalry to say,

"This lady's completely insane."

Sure, maybe I wasn't all "there,"

But their actions were just so inane.

They overreacted, that's clear,

And the didn't consult with me.

How hard would it have been to ask me

What was going on internally?

To ask what I was was thinking?

To ask what was going on?

To ask what I was feeling?

To ask me what was wrong?

But NO, that was never done.

Instead they took me away.

As if I were a criminal,

Who shouldn't see the light of day. 

I used to care about getting justice

I used to care about finding peace

I sued to care about fixing my records

(As if that would bring me peace.)

I used to care about proving myself

I used to care what people thought.

I used to care how I appeared to the world.

But guess what, now I do not!

Nunca Seré Esa Otra Vez (poema)

¡Nunca Más!
Nunca seré acorralada otra vez.
Nunca seré abusada otra vez.
Nunca volveré a creer en los trucos malvados de las personas malvadas.
Nunca seré humillado así otra vez.
Nunca más tendré que esconderme.
Nunca estaré aterrorizada de nuevo.
Nunca volveré a ser engañada.
Nunca volveré a ser el felpudo de nadie.
Nunca volveré a ser la misma.
Nunca seré quebrantada. 
¡Nunca me rendiré!
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How It Feels (original video & comments)

I made this video in 2009 to explain how it feels to have your own child torn from you after it has died in utero, from stillbirth, or from crib death.  Losing a child in infancy is so difficult, but for me it was even more difficult not being able to hold them or say goodbye to them. And yet, I must say that it was in those times that I had to cling tightly to my Heavenly Father and trust that my little ones were safe in His hands and that I am still safe in His arms as well -- that He will never leave me or forsake me!

Full Moon Rising (poem of sorts)

Full moon rising

Don't know if it was bad

Needed to shake the dust off my feet

And try to find what I had

Before I lost my mind for good,

Or at least some parts of it ...

Back when I knew what day it was

And didn't feel like shit.

I know I'm not that old yet,

But I feel like I'm going senile.

I tell myself I"ll get over it,

But I think I'm the queen of denial.

'Cause there's some shit

You never get over,

No matter how many years pass,

No matter the fact you grow older.

There's some shit you can't unlive,

Some shit you can't unsee,

Some shit you can't forget at all,

Though I try so pointlessly.

I try to hold onto the good stuff,

The happy times when we were together.

But then the awful truth hits me

That you just deceived me

I totally should have known better.

But you were willing to have me

When nobody else would,

When I thought I was a useless whore

Without an ounce of good.

Where do broken hearts go

To find rest and peace inside?

Where do tired bodies go

When they've already died?

Does that make me a zombie,

Since they brought me back around?

I suppose I should be thankful

I'm not six feet underground.

Or worse still, a pile of ash

On the ground somewhere

'Cause they burned the evidence.

I suppose I should be thankful

I have chickens, a good barn,

With a handy, dandy fence.

I suppose I should be grateful

That they could save my life.

Just so I could lose my husband,

And be somebody else's wife.

I'm ever so thankful

For the children I have now,

And I try not to mourn

The ones I lost, anyhow.

And I guess I should give thanks

That I have a roof over my head,

Plenty of food to eat,

Clothes to wear,

And now I can't let the tears fall, 

I laugh instead.

Why is it so much easier

To focus on the hard times,

The difficult times,

The rough patches,

Instead of living in the moment,

Letting that stupid shit go,

And learning to roll

With the punches?

If the only thing I have to fear

Is fear itself,

Then I'm totally screwed,

Because I'm a big fat chicken

And fear is an enemy

I cannot fight by myself.

I get so angry when they give me more pills

To try to fix my anguish and grief.

I've never yet known of a medicine

That could bring a broken heart relief.

But I'm so afraid if I don't take the meds,

They'll haul my ass off again.

And lock me up and throw away the key

Until only heaven knows when.

It's been done before.

And my folks LIED

And said I didn't take my pills.

That I wasn't being compliant.

But I DID take them as prescribed.

I've always been RELIANT.

(even drove one for awhile,

A Plymouth k-car, that is;

Not that it even matters,

Or ever really did)

I hate it when people ask me questions

I don't have the answers for,

And then act like I'm an idiot

'Cause I don't know what happened before.

Y entonces, de vez en cuando,

Soy mezclado en my cerebro.

DOS EQUIS ... God, I wish

That there were only two . . .

But there's a helluva lot more of them than that

That used me and abused me . . .

But I NEVER KEPT A LIST.

The sad thing is, maybe I asked for it?

I mean, did I lead them on?

Was it because I smiled and said "hello"

Was that what I did wrong?

No matter, that's the past

And what happens in the past

Should stay there, ¿verdad?

I only wish that occasionally

I could have the presence of mind

That I once had ...

A Slippery Slope (article)

Domestic Abuse victims and survivors are heavy on my heart today . . . for many of us, it snuck up on us slowly -- sometimes because we had difficult childhoods and thought we didn't deserve to be treated with love and respect. For me, it was way to easy to let abusive words and behaviors sneak up on me . . . it didn't happen overnight . . . but the end result was a heart that sometimes still feels broken and maybe will always feel somewhat vulnerable.  I was lucky enough to find help, but not before I spent 15 years in hell.

If any of the 'stages' below sound vaguely familiar to you, please wait to reach out to SOMEONE and get help! If you are being abused, get out NOW if you can!

*You say to yourself, "I'll leave if he pushes me around and belittles me." He pushes you around and belittles you, but you stay because "it's not all *that* bad -- it could be worse, right?"

*You say to yourself, "If he ever cheats on me, then I'll leave. He brings home someone else and forces you watch him being intimate with someone else in YOUR living room, but you stay because "it's not all *that* bad -- it could be worse, right?"

*You say to yourself, "I'll leave if he breaks the furniture."  He stomps a laundry basket into smithereens right in front of your children, but you stay because at least it wasn't you or the kids he was hurting (for now); and you try to convince yourself that "it's not all *that* bad -- it could be worse, right?"

*You say to yourself, "I'll leave if he ever hits me." He hits you, but you still don't leave.  By now you have children together, and it's just too difficult to leave.  You're afraid of starting over.  You're afraid of the unknown. Where would you go?  What would you do? So you stay with him because "it's not all *that* bad -- it could be worse, right?"

*You say, "If he ever leave marks or bruises, then I'll leave."  He leaves marks and bruises on your body, but in places nobody else can see, so you let it slide by.  You start to stay home more.  You're keeping his secret.  You start to feel ashamed of what he is doing, as though it is somehow YOUR fault that you are being abused. So you stay with them because "it's not all *that* bad -- it could be worse, right?"

*You say to yourself, "If they ever leave marks and bruises on my *face,* then for *sure* I'll leave."  They choke you until you pass out, there are bruises all over your neck and face, and you've probably got some mild brain damage from being without oxygen for a couple minutes.  But by now you're too scared to leave because he says if you try to leave, he will kill you ... or worse still, that he'll tell the authorities that *you* have been abusive to your children. You're afraid they'll believe him and not believe you. You're terrified of losing your children.  You're paralyzed by fear and slowly turning into a shadow.  But still you stay.  You don't know what else to do. After all, "it's not all *that* bad -- it could be worse, right?"

6. You say, "If he ever threatens me with a weapon, then for SURE I'll leave."  He comes into your bedroom with a butcher knife and on another occasion threatens to shoot you with a shotgun.  By now you're numb and you don't even notice.  All you can do is try to survive one more hour,  one more day, one more week, one more year . . . and the years go by . . .

Don't be the frog that is put into a kettle of plain, cool water while the burner under the pot gets turned up little by little.  The poor frog doesn't jump out of the pot, because the heat is turned up so very gradually that it doesn't notice the change in temperature until the water is boiling (and, of course, the frog is dead). 

Don't be another statistic . . . Jump out of that kettle and GET HELP NOW, before it's too late!