Caught in between being realistic to my boys and keeping the imagination and magic. To be upfront to them about life and yet letting them believe Santa exists. I tell my boys the truth about life and people and how not everyone has good intentions and how everything has a price. Yet last night my youngest wanted light in his room. Said it was too dark. The rational me wanted to to say of course because it’s night time and he needs to learn to sleep on his own in a dark room. But as I stared into his eyes something switched. I went and got a jar that has lights in it with reflective confetti stuff in it. I told them it was magical moon stars. They were in aww and asked if could open the jar. I told them I couldn’t because once the jar was open they would no longer exists and would disappear. I feel I am caught in this in between with them. I want them to keep this aww moments and yet I want them to know the reality.
Unwelcomed Invader poem with my meaning behind it
There is a creeper roaming around me,
I can feel the density of it,
The pressure on my chest.
It seems it has decided to cause more damage,
It’s digging itself into my chest,
It’s knife twisting and turning to make room.
The invasion has left me vulnerable,
My insides are at its disposal.
It strips my breaths so it itself can breathe,
It has placed a welcome mat,
It stays until boredom hits.
The pressure subsides,
I can breathe again,
Though I know it will come back to its home.
In the poem Unwelcome Invader, I used shifts to create perspective from two different
viewpoints. The first one is on first person, “there is a creeper roaming around me”. In this line the
narrator which is I, am explaining how I feel something that causes fear. I’m fully aware of its presence
and what it is capable of doing. The next shift is “it seems it has decided to cause more damage”. Here I
switch from first person to third person view point, to show the intruders behavior. The “it” which has
no name, switched from just a presence around to aggressive. The aggressive behavior has resulted in it
to cause massive pain in search for something that it needs or wants. The third shift, “my insides are at
its disposal”, here I switch back to first person to show the readers how I am feeling to this invasion. To
let readers, know that there was no fight, that I could do nothing to prevent it from doing what it wants.
The fourth shift, “It strips my breaths so it itself can breathe”, I switch back to third person to show readers again what “It” is doing. “It”, has found what it was searching for, and because of that it has
made itself a home. Where it can choose to leave and come back whenever it pleases. The final shift is,
“the pressure subsides”, where I end in first person. The last shift is meant to tell the readers, how much
control “It” has, and how it’s not in constant aggression. It allows the host to have relief, so it can keep
sustaining the life for “It”. The host which is I, is aware of this temporary relief, “though I know it will
come back to its home” and that “It” is here to stay.
The sound I used in this poem was meant to make the reader feel the pain, the anger and fear.
So that readers can have a better understanding, by they themselves also being able to relate in a sense.
By using the word “creeper”, it allows readers to be aware that it is something to be feared and be
aware of. I also used “digging” and “twisting”, to show the aggressive behavior of “It”. And the word
“stripping” so the readers are aware that something harsh is happening. The sounds of those words
were meant to create the emotions I mentioned.
I used shifts and sound, to show readers the physical and emotional relationship. Though most
will probably assume the poem is about one form of invasion, though it can relate to other forms of
invasion; like in this poem which is about an anxiety attack. The meaning of this poem is to show readers
how anxiety attacks just start. How the person has no control of when or where, they have no physical
control from preventing. People who live with anxiety attacks are aware they will keep occurring but
have to manage to live with them anyways.
THINK OUTSIDE THE BOX
Some of the most vulnerable, meaningful things in life are done blindly. Like loving, trusting, and having faith. Our society today teaches a person that if you don’t see, you don’t believe it. To always prepare for the worst to come, but what kind of way is that to live. Why not have a little faith, why not have the chance to truly know what love is like, and to be able to trust another. Perhaps everyone else is waiting and wishing for the same thing, someone to give them a chance.Isn’t it better to step outside the box, I’m not saying having trust, loving or having faith in someone comes easy, but I believe life is better than what society leads you to believe.
-Note To Self
What do I mean by it
Imperfection is beauty…
The idea that only certain people, or certain things can be recognized as beautiful, I have never been able to grasp. I have seen people look at others or things with such an admiration. It made me question, what do they see? What makes that person, thing, or place worth giving a second look. Now I believe I can understand it to some level, now I can comprehend what actual beauty is. It’s being able to see a person, place, or thing, and question every detail of it. See every detail that it or person was made with, and ask how, how long did it take, what was the intention for these different features. And see how beautiful it is to see so much difference, to see the aging, the beating it took, the loneliness it has endured. Ever look at an old building, wonder how old it is? what is it made from? that somehow it’s still standing. What caused those chipping corners? the faded discoloration, what has it seen, how many people have walked in and out of it, how many brakes it had, how many repairs it needed? That’s my thoughts when I see a building, a person, or place. and just the idea that this place, person, or whatever, is somehow still standing, amazes me. The life that has passed, and yet there is still someone out there that will love it, stare at it with such beauty in their eyes. See every wrinkle, every chip, every fade, every detail of it, and just be awed by it. Everything, every person, has a story, a sad one and a happy one. And I’m just curious to know them all. So to me, I like things the way they are, I like things that are forgotten or ignored, because its those that have on heck of a story, and that is beauty, the details.
-Note To Self
Current state of mind
What is the state of shock? confusion?
Do you just not move or speak?
Do you question everything in your head?
Do you fall asleep, hoping the day before was unreal?
Do you just go through the motions?
When does the mind snap back?
-Note To Self
My anxiety through the roof
How do I explain that feeling, when thoughts of losing someone are there. that initial thought of anger, yet sadness. How everyone around me had chances to just break down and cry, get comfort. Yet I stand there stiff as a rock, just watching there reactions, whishing I could do the same. How come I don’t get to just have a moment to break down, how come I don’t get that selfish moment. I suppose because I know better, I know that there needs to be someone stable, reasonable. Or maybe I just can’t, maybe I don’t how to just let go. This week has been the hardest, most exhausting one, spent everyday back and forth. From my parents home down south to the hospital and back to check on my children. To be honest I just want to go back home, I want my husband to hold me tight and tell me that it’s ok, I want to be able to cry like a baby in his arms, and get comforted by him. I don’t recall feeling this kind of feeling, for those that have lost a parent I can’t imagine how they must have felt. Just the thoughts and all the waiting sent my anxiety through the roof, and yet I had not a moment to pause and allow myself to wallow. I’m tired, but I will be honest , now I feel relief. My mother will be home, and I can go back home, I can go back to stressing over my school process, and of what mess my kids are making in there rooms.
-Note To Self
Keep up
The time is here where I stand with two roads ahead of me, both are appealing to the eye, both are unknown. As I stand here, I feel a soft touch, on my finger tips, slowly filling and then overpowering my hand. As I stand here, one hand is being held with a firm grip of reassurance. Which ever road I decided to take. I know that you will still hold on and join me for the walk. Either choice made, will not only affect me but you as well, yet your initial touch brought an unbelievable excitement through my body, letting me know that either one will be an adventure. How do you do it? How do you manage to keep up? I guess I truly don’t care, I just care that you can and want. Your presence alone gives me the courage to just leap forward, which ever way my body goes. I don’t have to think, I don’t have to second guess, and that’s what I love. I love knowing I don’t need to, I can just go. I like that about you, the same way I like my impulsive behavior. So let me be, I will move, try to keep up….
-Note To Self
Tears
Physical pain is one thing, it can get real bad, and take time to heal.
Mental pain however is another thing, that one takes a longer process to heal, leaving more then a scar. The body doesn’t shed tears to demonstrate how weak or vulnerable it is to pain, but rather a reaction to how much one can endure. Tears are a display of strength, and courage. To be honest this goes to those that hold the pain, hold the tears, hold the breakdowns, not the ones that constantly cry over everything they find hurtful. People that hold in the pain are the ones that avoid attention, pity, and don’t need constant reassurance that everything is going to be ok. To the ones that are so mentally strong that crying is only when their bodies can no longer take the beatings. To the ones that handle the situations first and leave the breakdowns for after everything is done and finished. Maybe that’s what leads to anxiety attacks, that the body finally had enough and it needs to release the overwhelming emotions sooner than one is ready for. Who knows, I don’t know, it’s just my guess. At least to me that’s how I feel about moments like those. The moments where tears need to be shed, and the body needs to curl in a ball on the floor and hold one-self for a moment. Don’t cry often, but when I do, I truly feel it was the right time to allow it, the right time so the body can revive itself and take on another load of challenges…
-Note To Self
Sometimes this is all you need
Sometimes a walk is needed, put on your shoes and just go. Take a deep breath and allow your eyes to view the world, let your mind wonder off in all the thoughts kept up there. Sometimes in those kinds of walks, you return with answered questions, a better sense of who you are, where your going, what you want. Sometimes that is all you need …
-Note To Self
Constant reminder inside my purse
Not long ago I had to see my doctor for a refill to my prescription, something I was very uncomfortable doing. Every time I see my doctor, he asks towards the end, if I would want to go on anti-depressants. Instantly I get angry at him, and respond no, I laugh it off, but I am so angry he asked. Does he think I need them, do I look depressed, the amount of questions and ideas that go through my mind would make you laugh. I still find it ridiculous that out of all the illnesses and etc. I get anxiety attacks. Like seriously? I am not a depressed person, I don’t walk around trembling and avoiding outside contact. I still try to have a handle on my anxiety without the use of meds. But every time I open my purse, there they are. Staring back at me, reminding me, that at some point in time I will have to use them, and it terrifies me. Medication terrifies me, the side effects terrify me. And instantly I feel angry at myself, and sadness washes through me for a moment. For the most part I’m ok, stubborn in my ideas. But for brief moments I’m reminded that a part of me for moments unexpected I’m not in control of myself. That perhaps I’m not as strong minded as I believe I am, or why else would I need meds for anxiety. It angers me that no matter what I do to stay busy, optimistic, happy, it doesn’t stop. It’s like my body decides to react to situations for me, when I force myself to try to be calm about things. My exterior says, calm and collective, but my body says Nope, this is too much for you. And the adrenaline kicks in, and there I am out of nowhere, having an anxiety attack, trying to look like I am not. Trying to tell myself you don’t need them, you got this, just breath, relax. But the fact is that they are there, and if I can’t stop it, if I can’t control it , I will have to use them. I will have to face the fact, my reality, and I don’t like it. But it’s, use them or black out? Can I have the luxury of blacking out when it’s just me and my boys, no one around to know what I am going through, to snap me back. No, I will have to, don’t want to but I have to for them. How did I get here, how did my body begin this kind of reaction to life? When did I become embarrassed caring around medication in my purse everyday. And yes, that’s exactly how I feel about it, embarrassed, silly I know, yet I feel it.
-Note To Self
The Quest for Perfection is Born out of Imperfection 