Tag Archives: depression

Happy Belated Beltane and First Blog of the Year!

Since my last blog, I have taken the errant remnants of my sexuality and integrated them with the rest of me. I can be in a room with males that lust for me and not get triggered. Even after I have given them my “no” and they appear to be unconcerned about that. I’ve had a chance to see how some men change once they like a girl and think they have her. I have had a chance to feel so many things that once triggered me. So much suppression has softened since I last posted that I feel like a different person.

In my period of reintegration, I’ve had a chance to look at why I’m not finishing poems. When I think I have the answer, something else comes up. So, I decided to let go, to allow myself to lick my spoon and my fingers in public. I let myself sleep naked and read for pleasure again. I let my anger loose inside myself instead of wrapping it inside a cage in its own chains. I made decisions to help me feel empowered and let go of obligations. All of which helped me recharge enough to see that I have less than one week until I am finished with an almost two-year journey of learning to heal others by healing myself.

I am still afraid to write certain truths, though I’ve decided to slowly let my secrets out. I was confusing nice with kindness. Reconnecting with my ancestry has helped me see that I must let go of silence. I understand so much more clearly how I’ve been wronged in the past, and how I’ve wronged others. Some deserved it, and sometimes I deserved it. Sometimes the bad went down and that is just how the chips fell.  There is so much richness here for word-smithing.I challenge myself to let myself play and write. To go to nature for a week in the month of June so I can recharge properly. I didn’t know how much I needed nature for self-care until I started spending regular time with her.

I have about 26 poems for completion for one of my “Tormented Love” volumes. I decided to start with “Angels and Demons” and put my love and my pain there. I had no idea I was “pulling” my emotional punches as hard as I was until I realized that no one would know who or what I was writing about. None of my poems are that obvious. I blend experience with my observations to create snapshots of feelings, and use imagined experiences to highlight concepts. My work aims to be a sensory burlesque show of the human heart, the human experience exposed. Tormented love is what happens when you love with your heart guarded and without trusting yourself. I will be happy to complete the volumes and grow the seeds of “Variations on a Theme”, the next poetry volume concept that takes an insider’s view of common mental health issues.

I am still letting myself lick my spoon in public, to wear pigtails in my 30’s, and to talk to people when I feel like it whether I know them or not. The inner child “practice” has been so healing. I let go of “broken” (along with those that invite broken into their lives), and have embraced “bent and loving it”. So far, so good. I feel like a flower the bees want, yet only a hummingbird can pollinate. Thank you, Beltane, for the boost.  I have less than a week to go, then a short rest with a belly full of one more accomplishment. Then I tackle the hallway before me with many doors connected to it.

Love and Heartbreak

https://zoeyhart.wordpress.com/2015/04/23/place/

“Place” written by Zoey Hart

I write about love as I see it on my blog because I don’t remember what it feels like to be loved by a lover or partner. I have been sitting for over a month with my recent heartbreak.  I wonder how I got here. I planned well. I avoided love by way of having lovers. That’s what divorcees do, right? Protect their hearts while they raise their children alone. Or do they do what seemingly half the divorced population does and marry again within a year or two? I’m the other one. I open only when sparked, and that happens very rarely.

I prepared for heartbreak. I set up the perfect situation, but I forgot pieces of myself that I’d closed off in my younger, depressed years. I also mis-remembered certain important details of my former lover’s situation. Diversity is exciting, yet sometimes differences can break a relationship if communication isn’t happening(yet appears to be happening).  In hindsight, it clearly wasn’t happening.

I am left feeling, for lack of a better term, used, which leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.  This feeling tells me that I created illusions in order to be ok with something I missed. My lover was clear in this, but our understanding of what love is and how it is demonstrated was definitely different. To me, love is a sharing. An honesty. A reveal of the things I fear about myself, an unveiling of parts of me that not everyone else gets to see.

Love is a dance of many veils being removed, one after another until you stand naked. As is. If it is good love, love that edifies, you want to dance in it because there is so much joy. If the love is fearful, full of anxiety, or selfish, it hurts. There is a range of this, which is why I often think back to the times when things “almost worked”.  Why do I do that?

I am left vulnerable and open, trying to figure out why I loved so hard, when they were clear that they didn’t. Perhaps if I had felt treated with respect in more than a sexual way, in this case, I think I would be less angry. This one was not intended to work, and I was ok with that. It hurts more because the lover I knew, the one I thought was also unveiling to me wasn’t.  I just wish there had been more honesty and consideration.

Since there wasn’t, my exit shouldn’t be a surprise. I do love myself. I look forward to further exploring what that means as I continue to let go and move forward with the rest of my life.  I just want to meet more people that really understand how to use healthy boundaries and sharing.

Credits:

A big heartfelt “Thank you!” to Zoey Hart (https://zoeyhart.wordpress.com/author/zoeyhart), for agreeing to let me use her poem on my blog. I caught it on twitter and it was perfect for use here. She gave me the courage to post this instead of just writing it to myself.