Category: adversity

Disability’s Dilemnas

Clutter defines my surroundings:
accumulation intended to simplify
only complicates, suffocates.

I am roommate, burden, dependent
confined to a singular existence
no longer lover, wife, companion.

While I lament the past –
ghosts of horrors and indecencies –
he drinks to forget lost dreams.

We have vowed to mend the cracks
carefully secured our footing
and yet our foundations rots.

Is it our over-active need to please
or the cold civility of our interactions
that causes us to withdraw?

My mind drowns me with shoulds
that my body can’t possibly fulfill,
guilt flooding my conscience.

How do we reconcile this distance
imposed by so much tragedy,
right the impotency of loss?

Life rolls on and I with it
humour and meditated calm
wrangling doubt and criticism.

He wears the projections
of my dissatisfaction: unresolved
remnants of old wounds resurfaced.

I can no longer ignore my needs
and reel at the mounting imbalance
grasping for sustenance and equilibrium.

Pulling away, I stubbornly proclaim
self-reliance, hindering progress
endangering self for dubious promises.

These life-altered eyes perceiving
only disappointing, unpalatable options
grasp for an end to this perpetual ache.

I am lost, disoriented, tired
communication clouded by fear
I hardly understand myself.

There is no solid footing on
a voyage as rocky as ours,
no answers to allay uncertainty.

Now is not a time for walls,
tenderness alone will guard our hearts
and patience lighten the way.

A Falling Out

I would entertain confidence,
but here, on the edge of emotion
(others before self )
I am ungrounded.

I gesture kindness
(a shady, alluring reconciliation)
your heart unavailable
distracted and driven.

Pushed aside, I am
(non-conformist)
ostracized,
still raw.

I ponder relationships
(incensed and violated)
worthy of investigation –
these many sides of self.

Sidestepping social niceties
(I am righteously enraged)
personal indignation
makes for interesting dynamics.

Exile is hurtful,
unacceptable – I look
for a voice – pause –
your expectations a brick wall.

Obligations temporarily overloading,
executive functioning down,
my exterior collapses –
we fall out.

Invincibility

Remember when we were lovers,
and would stay all out night –
me full of bravado,
you coaxing one more drink?

I’d awaken the next morning
head thick and fogged
and you’d reassure me
that the car was in the driveway
safe and sound
and want to do it all over again
but I’d have to work,
so you would sulk all day
until you could sweep me up once more.

“You’re going to burn out before you’re 25”
a co-worker told me
and you just laughed and said:
“Not me, I’m invincible!”
and we’d dance the night away
never knowing where we’d end up
or how we got there.

When did it change for us?
When did you abandon me?

Was it the day we lost four friends-
all dead in a fiery crash –
a tragic combination of speed and alcohol
that fateful long weekend?

Or was it that time
you let me get into that car
told me I’d be okay
flattered me that a man so handsome
would want my company
then left me alone
to be raped?

Maybe it was me that
just couldn’t look you in the face anymore
deceived by your recklessness,
seized by the recognition
of your self-serving ways.

Time and obligations
have made me forget you,
yet every once in awhile,
I dream of those days
when we watched the sun come up
then sleepless and still buzzed
faced the world – our oyster –
as if nothing could tear us down.

 

Emotional Pain Dance

A singular activity
suffices not to distract
from underlying pain –
multi-task.

Robotic attentiveness
fails to allay
constant buzzing –
re-focus.

Sidestepping issues
elicits no solace,
unravelling inevitable –
shutdown.

I am trapped
in solitary confinement,
sensory deprivation –
unleashed

momentous force
raging within
boring outwards –
scream

silently, alone,
unheard, unseen,
unburdening –
repent.

Self-pity dead ends,
breathe in life,
suppress negativity –
re-align.

Multi-tasking
ignites purpose,
smacks of productivity –
conceals.

Oh, To Dream

I dream of waking before the dawn,
preparing for my day with proficiency,
professionally preened and on the go.

In reality, I see the early light of day
through an insomnia-induced haze,
or miss it altogether, unable to rise.

I will carelessly tie my hair back,
and moan at my image, forgoing cosmetics –
no one will see me, after all.

If I dress, it will be for comfort,
elasticized waistline compensating for swelling,
soft fabrics to soothe the burning aches.

In my dream it is the first day of school,
and I am excited and anxious,
caught up in the camaraderie of the moment.

I awake to the resounding silence of solitude,
no schedules await me, no colleagues
exchanging pleasantries, communal conspiracy absent.

I will pace myself, shuffling
between bed and simple tasks,
a cup of tea, maybe some writing.

I drive in my dream, a shiny red car
in which I glide through the streets
and park with the pride of knowing it awaits.

Its been years since I’ve felt the freedom
and independence of self-chauffeuring,
reliant on the more able-bodied, sharply cognizant.

It’s a rare occasion that rouses me from
this compelled complacency, enough
to venture into the hyper-stimulating world.

Disability has closed around me,
limiting experience, restricting imagination,
until I dream – and am whole again.

My Spirit Stands Strong

Progress – seldom linear –
tosses me into unexpected decline –
stranded and incapacitated.

My son – with labour-hardened strength
leaps to my side, steadying me
and I feel the fear in his caring grip.

My daughter, ever compassionate,
reaches out for me with horror-filled eyes
as my body crumples onto the bed.

My husband, my oak, seeks to comfort
his voice betraying the helplessness
this futile predicament imposes.

Beloveds, I know that you see me
this dis-abled, non-functioning shell
weakened and sickly, lying on this bed.

Do not be deceived – that is not me –
it is only an illusion –
a vessel – temporarily fettered.

I am, in essence, beside you –
ambitions and desires intact.
Feel me there, tall and proud.

Sense the wholeness of my being
remember me for the woman I am yet to be –
My spirit stands strong.

No Words

I have no words
that will change your plight.

I cannot undo the past
nor change the course of your life.

I am powerless to rescue,
fix, or uplift you in your time of need.

Please know that I see you,
know that in my heart I weep.

Know that while I empathize
I can never fully understand your pain.

There is no judgment here,
only heartfelt compassion.

When I reach out a hand to you,
wordlessly, it is out of respect.

I believe in you.
I believe in your strength and your courage.

In my silence, know that I bear witness
to the potential that lies within and before you.

I believe in the power of your own love to overcome.
There are no words to define what is possible in life.

(Image: imgarcade.com)

War is Hell

The battlefield still smolders,
oppressive gray smog hovering
The landscape is scarred,
ravaged reminders of war.

Origins borne of uncertainty,
fear spurred by righteousness
and a disgust of imperfection,
prolong the futile fight.

Subtly, imperceptibly,
defenses strengthen,
confidence renews
but the opposition
will not be silenced.

War is hell.
Unfair, biased,
blinded, deceitful.
Sacrificing the innocent,
destroying potential.

War is hell –
especially when….
the battleground
is the Self.

(Image: www.smithsonianmag.com)

What I’ve Learned From Trees

Meditating on the majestic beauty of the trees outside my window, I come to recognize something about myself. I cannot help but think that even though they are symbols of quiet strength, trees are not without their own vulnerabilities. Acts of Nature, or even human folly can bring them down, and so they, like me, are not immortal.

th-3Perhaps none of us is meant to be an impenetrable force: the kind of force I aspired to in my youth.

You see, I always thought of myself as a strong woman, however; unlike the trees I contemplated in my last post, I was not flexible – bending graciously to the winds of change – but belligerent, resistant, and arrogant. I was a right fighter. Having grown up in an atmosphere of relentless uncertainty, I commanded myself to be strong, believing that with an iron will, I could gain control of life – not just my own, but the lives of those around me. I adopted an air of superiority – pretending to know better than anyone else – even though on the inside, I never measured up. Showing vulnerability was never an option. Instead, I must have appeared the fool, and undoubtedly hurt many others.

True strength, I realize now, comes in retreating in the face of adversity, and the willingness to see beyond personal righteousness. It involves an openness to understanding alternative perspectives, and the wisdom to perceive the truth underlying the turmoil.

th-4My current life circumstances have brought me limitations: physically and mentally. My awake and energetic times are severely restricted. I am challenged to create a new definition of self, and what it is to be strong.

I dreamt of my dear cousin Bev last night. Bev passed away recently after battling cancer for ten years. In all those years she faced her struggle with a quiet strength: maintaining her outer poise, surrendering to the times of severe illness, and establishing healthy boundaries. She was a model for gracious living. Truly a strong woman.

Illness has brought me an opportunity to retreat for a while. It is allowing me the possibility of real change: measurable change. In surrendering my old sense of self, I will surely emerge new.

In the meantime, I remain open and vulnerable – not comfortable – but then at fifty-six years of age, I am well rooted. Like the trees.