languages

love languages

I must remember to recognize when he is not speaking mine to me

He’s speaking his to me

He checks over the engine and vacuums the interior

I would prefer a back rub or a kiss

I am grateful, however, for the love he gives

Cause it’s mine and intended for me

from a thinker, not a feeler

to an extrovert from an introvert

which is why its hard for him to do

 

 

I’m doing okay

A depressed person would have skipped rehearsal tonight.

Another instinct may have been the feel of a blade

I’m up, I’m out…despite the heaviness in my heart.

I still take all his bad decisions personally.

His choices to lie and hurt my mother make me feel like I’m not important enough to consider in his life choices

I don’t feel considered, let alone loved

What about the years he’s supposed to make up for?

Hes supposed to strive for happiness and unity to make up for all that time he did

The best thing he’s given me is the ability to relate to the at risk youth I work with day in and day out.

Thanks?

No.

Just let her be. Let her go. You’re killing her. Slowly and painfully daily. Let me have the rest of the time I have with her in peace

sinful

The Catholic that remains in me         

recognizes the darkness in my heart     

contempt causing disease       

When it comes to this man             

             

It was easier to swallow your fantasies 

When pitying you inside your cage               

Now a senior juvenile into the same old…lame. 

Leaving this adult daughter wondering: how I will afford your funeral?             

The guilt                                                       

I’m consumed with it for even having the thought                                                

Some people would give anything for one more talk 

                                 

The evil, selfishness inside me wishes you had stayed far away                                

I messed with my fate                               

Funding your return was a mistake    

Unattainable and distant you were meant to remain                                      

But the broken girl thought you had changed                                                         

A mother twice over still wishing for a dad                                                                

Learning too late                                        

Regretting that I didn’t foresee 

How it would end          

Needy and pitiful

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I’m so sad
I try not to be
But it creeps up on me
When I’m alone
In the car or at home
No money to spend
No one’s available to friend
To fill the gaps of solitude
I’m responsible for my own happiness
I should get up, take a walk
Raise up my own endorphins
But I can’t
I just cry
Cuz I’m sore from the climb
and the cramps wringing my insides
I just cry because I’m alone and I can.
I feel sorry for myself and I cry for the little girl I still am
I cry for all the mistakes
The unidentified claims and demands
I cry for the things I should have done
and the words I could have said
I cry for the courage to communicate all of this to him directly
Face the issue and hash it out. Use my own skills to help me
I pray for separation of power
within the woman, wife, counselor, mother, sister, daughter that I am
and that she can navigate through a dark ocean of pain with integrity, openness, and love

precarious healing

You can beat your head against the wall all you want.
It doesn’t change the past.
You continue to bull-headedly approach fragile matters.
Porcelain dolls run from you as you demand information that you don’t deserve to know.
You can’t handle it delicately, you can’t repair the damage, you are making it worse.
It’s not about you. It’s my tragedy to live with. My abuse to bury. My burden to not talk about with you.
Fuck off and respect my feelings. Fuck you I don’t care if you’re crying.
I hate you for making me re-live all this bull shit again. Fuck you for sitting me back in this roller coaster of shitty memories.
You’re accomplishing pushing me farther away. I don’t want to talk to you or look at you.