Category: mental-health

Tugging

Is it selfish
this chosen solitude?
How I treasure silence,
stillness baiting my muse

And is it my calm
that attracts chaos?
The sorrow of others
landing on my doorstep

What if I rejected pleas,
locked out the troubles?
How long can I sustain
peace until need answers?

(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)

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Spinning

Circling,
dancing,
caught between
idealism of expectation
and harshness of reality –
one has lofty goals,
the other invites limitation

I’ve excuses aplenty –
none that assuage ambition
Incomplete work dangles
from spider web threads
waiting for rescue

Talking to myself
unavailing – best
step out of this dichotomy
stop the whirling

(Sketch my own)

Let It Go

It’s not intentional
this accumulation
amounting to clutter

It”s inevitable, given
the emphasis on chasing
material happiness

Its impotency is ironic
all superfluous now
that health teeters

Weighs heavily
on my mental state
craving simplicity

The sentiment
we treasure beats
in heart’s memory

Objects age,
lose relevance
generationally

I let go of fear,
the guilt, find
blessed relief

New space inspires
openness, excitement
ensues – freedom.

(Image my own)

Some Days

Why am I courting judgment
like an old friend,
popping in unexpectedly?

She overlooks my needs,
barges in reeking
of stale perfume, and
energy-sucking shoulds

I crave the subtle tones of compassion –
quiet whispers over tea –
a gentle pat, words of encouragement

But, truth be told,
I squirm at even this –
hate vulnerability,
hate this weakness on display,
this chronic, fucking disability

Seems I have dressed myself
in judgment’s cloaks,
walk in the pinched shoes
of expectations too tight

No wonder I’m exhausted,
am dying…numbed
to my own drama.

(Image my own)

Chasms

Old friend, I would visit you
but this compulsive state of
martyrdom delays our reunion;
then you slip my mind.

You wouldn’t recognize me –
this mask I wear, a product
of the toxicity that I play host to,
puts a life on my kind-heartedness

I want to be helpful
but carry a burden of failures –
ghosts from childhood home
that plug my memory

I have hurt so many,
neglected, now lost; family –
these useless ties are shadows
lurking, directing me –

I am sensitive, wanting
to exile the negativity, have been
taught to be considerate, but
cannot erase the inconsistencies

Spend too much time
browsing, delivering a fragment
of the torment that lies within;
am over-involved with self

Really want to be my best
in search of something greater
but today the frustration
is too raw, am at a loss

Old friend, I have reverted back
to dependence, manipulating,
am mentally unstable,
cannot find closure

in all the scattered pieces –
all I have to offer are bit,
disappointing, really – stored
memories that menace

Believe me when I say
I am working hard; want to start
fresh, have a goal in mind,
have not forgotten you

but am running out of
options, frustrated, can’t catch
a break, as the distance
between us widens.

(Chasms first appeared here October, 2106. Image my own)

Most Saturdays I include an audio recording, but this week my voice is not cooperating.