Strong - 12/14/09

this is a poem about me
i'm alive
and i know it
i feel it in my veins
i'm busy and tired
but never more sane
i'm excited and ready
for action or pain
cause whatever is coming
won't get in my way

this is my life
and the hand i was dealt
was meant for me
so i must be at least as strong
as I need
as strong as it takes to live
the life I lead

Untitled 12/14/09

I'm tired of feeling tortured
and feeling alone
the pathways to my brain
are sensations I can own
and redirect
or intercept
until they find another home
but I can't keep giving solace
to thoughts I can't condone

Letting Go

And I happen to love this post on letting go. What does letting go mean? Letting go is an elusive concept to wrap your mind around, and this post from Recovery is Sexy gets to the heart of it.

What does Letting Go Mean?

End of the Century 12/15/09

It's the end of another century
and now you know my name
I'm offering a memory
that never looks the same
and in my heart
I locked it up
so I would never see
I've lived in fear
but now I know
that wasn't really me

I can be calm in confusion
still in a storm
if that's what I choose to do
I've learned to respond
in so many ways
without responding to you

I wrote this poem this week and it touches on something I've talked about with a friend. 2009 has been crazy and painful in so many ways for me. Hands down the worst year yet, but hitting my bottom brought me to Al-Anon and recovery, so I can't discount the merits of the year. But at a particularly low point, I was tempted to go with F.E.A.R. (Fuck Everything and Run). My family was having all kinds of drama, I was unhappy at work, I had to find a new apartment and I wasn't in a relationship for the first time in a while. I told a friend I wanted to pick up and move to Spain or travel the world. He said something very wise.

He said, If that's what you choose to do because it's right for you to take that action, then I will totally support you. But if you're doing this as a reaction to what's happening, then I don't think it's the right move for you. I've been thinking a lot about the difference between acting and reacting. I've lived most of my life reacting to situations around me, and being passive when there was nothing to react to. Now, I'm seeing that I have choices and control in my own life. I recently initiated a conversation to discuss changes I wanted to make at work with my boss and I got a raise! Instead of skipping the country for good, I opted out of spending Christmas with the family and am headed to Australia and the warmth instead. It's still very scary for me- acting and being active in my own life, but I must say it feels really great too.

Phone - written at 16

You called today
and it hurt a little less
to hang up the phone
with the wire connecting us

Yeah, I still threw it down
after you hung up,
but I got over it quickly
got a drink of water,
thought of someone else.

I thought of someone else.
But it wasn't the same,
because it wasn't you
And after I've tallied the
count of terrible deeds that
you've committed,
I still hope
hope that you will call.

And after I recover
from all of your abuse,
I still long for the hurt.

And maybe one day I'll be ok
maybe I'll be happy alone
But that day isn't today
and I'm still waiting, staring at the phone

I wrote this poem about my first real boyfriend in high school, after we broke up. I file this under the "repeating the cycle" category. Children and adult children of alcholics will continue to seek out unavailable partners for romantic relationships unless they recover. Until I realized my own habits and tendencies and where they came from, I was unable to stop myself from the allure of unavailable people. I can't say that I've fully changed my wiring, because I'm still very attracted to aloof or unavailable people, but at least I recognize it now and can understand where it comes from and why it's not good for me.

I think this attraction comes from the need to win acceptance that started at home. My alcoholic father and co-dependent mother taught me that love was not unconditional, and that it had to be earned. I grew up trying to win their approval in various ways. I assumed the responsibility for making them love me and figured if they were angry or not giving me what I needed, that I had to try harder or adjust my behavior. In the past, when men have showed me attention and affection, it has been a turn-off for me, because I've felt that it shouldn't be so easy to get people to care for me. This whole thought process is very sick and destructive, but I know that there are many people like me, and that gives me comfort. Now I am able to deconstruct it, look at it honestly, and ultimately re-wire my programming.

Wagons of a Different Sort - written at 12 or 13

What is this
What does it mean
in this bliss
Have you come clean
I can't say
I know of what
Bring will this day
Your openings shut
"No illegal shit"
And I heard your lie
Enemies telling it
You used to cry
Stop or die

I've been thinking a lot about my brother, "John." He started using when he was 13, went to rehab by 16 and finally joined the army at 25 as a way of getting clean. I've thought a lot about how my dad's addiction affected me, but now I'm realizing how much John's addiction affected me as well. He got a letter last week from the army recalling him, and he has orders to report in a month and deploy to Iraq. It was totally unexpected. He is going to school, has a wife and son and another baby on the way, so this news was devastating to all of us.

He asked me to write a letter on his behalf stating that he is the only one in the family that can take care of my dad, so that he can get out of these orders. As I sat there writing this letter, which is basically a lie, because I've done more than anyone to care for my dad, I had a deja vu moment. I had a memory of being in high school and forging a doctor's note for him to take to court. I've been trying to help him get out of things his entire life - lying for him and enabling him. Although this situation is slightly different, it felt oddly familiar. I am okay with writing this particular letter because I disagree with the Army's policy of recalling soldiers who have completed their service, but I am not consumed with pity for my brother. He chose to join the Army in the middle of a war rather than go to rehab, and this is one of the unintended consequences. I'll write this letter and hope for the best for him and his family, but I don't have to let the burden of this drag me down. I have a choice in how I react and respond to crisis. Here's a poem I wrote on the subway last week after getting the news that John had orders for Iraq:

I guess I'm more in tune
when I'm alone
like the waves from my brain
are a product I can own
This world is senseless
It changes all the time
from misery to suffering
from pitiful to blind
I can't keep riding these waves
Hoping they crash on some shore
I can't crawl out of the pit
I dug myself in anymore

I'm tired I'm wasted
As I'm sure you can see
Tearstained eyes, a meek smile
are all that's left of me
I don't feel that I have
More blood left to spare
It's all been spilled
It's overfilled
the test tubes of despair
Like some vengeful leech
Just can't get enough of me
Like he's getting off
on my endless misery
So I'll just drag my carcass home
Lock the doors and cry
Crisis will come knocking
But I'll offer no reply

Not belong - written 12/4/09

Do you ever feel
like you must just not belong
like the day that you were born
was a moment that went wrong?

Like every step you take
isn't yours to claim
like any move you make
could never justify your name?

The people who surround you
somehow earned this time and place
but you float up above them
consuming air
and wasting space

I've been thinking about this "terminal uniqueness" that we discussed in an Al-Anon meeting a few months ago. All of us felt that we were unique, isolated, different from everyone else. And sometimes from that perspective, it seems like everyone else is different because they are happy or lucky.

I'm trying to break out of that mold of thinking and come to understand that others have their problems too, and that when I feel different, I isolate myself from others and it becomes a self-perpetuating state. Others may think that I'm snobby or too good for them because I keep people away sometimes, but the reality is that I don't think I'm good enough in some way and that's why I do it. I've been better at reaching out to friends and saying yes to them since starting recovery. Last night I even said yes to someone who invited me to do a solo dance in the middle of a circle in African Dance class! When you say yes to people who have invited you into something, you build connections, trust, and break out of isolation.

All Out - written 12/7/09

Just go all out
balls out
before you go

Let them be the ones
to tell you no

Untitled - 12/30/96 (at 14)

When the air hurts

too much to taste

or feel or touch

then blood crystalizes

and feelings are such

that no one feels at all

and no one takes the time to call

Everything is in the mind of the beholder

Lies are not born;

they just keep getting older

This poem speaks to the sense of betrayal ACoAs have. The reality of what I felt and observed didn't match the messages I received from my parents. I was told that our family was happy, that there weren't any problems, and furthermore, if I didn't agree, that I had a problem. Because of denial, and the family's need to cover up the problem with a capital P, it felt as though I was living a lie, and quite literally we all were.

Untitled - 12/4/09

everytime you touch me
i disappear
my heart leaves my body
it feels insincere

like this moment was
faked or staged
like this was a plan
and not a promise you made

and what is it you're hiding
behind your cryptic eyes?
what is it you're holding?
your hands run me over,
constructing alibis

is it nature or nurture
that gets in the way?
you call me here, you pull me near
and then you pull away

When I started reading about ACoAs, I found it interesting how we form our ideas about love. We learn love from our family, and however love was expressed is how we come to understand it. And in an alcoholic family, love is expressed in very strange ways. I always knew that my parents loved me, but then they often didn't want to be bothered with me, and they sometimes put me down and pushed me away. So, that dynamic is how I came to understand love - a push and pull. I sought out other people who shared my idea of love and predictably, it's always ended in disaster. I'm trying to re-define love for myself and seek out others who have a healthier understanding of it as well in my friendships, and ultimately in a romantic relationship.

Everything - written at 13

Let it all out...

Your lost screams
Your broken dreams
And Everything
that ever seemed
to mislead

Let it all out
because this will be the
Last time
You can express emotions

Since Everything you are
will soon be
stuffed inside my
tiny soundless bottle

Where no one can hear your cries
In my tiny soundless bottle
that will be carelessly tossed
Into the ocean

Where the waves will smash your being
Your emotion
Your commotion
and Everything will rest
amidst the Ocean

Until...
Your anger, rage and venom
overflows my
tiny soundless bottle

The cork will pop off,
celebrating your hatred
that will dye
the ocean red.

Red with slit veins
Red with spilt brains
Red with everything
that tops insane

The blood red bubbling contains
Your hardship
Your heartache
Your headache
that never goes away

And your voice will rise
above the cries
inside of my
tiny soundless bottle

Your voice will cry
that Everything we told you was a lie
Everything hearty has passed you by
All that is left of you is an empty sigh
And naturally you want to die

Your voice will ring
with Everything

The Trip Home 11/26/09

Is that all I am to you?
Something to react against?
Someone to stand up to
And exercise your self defense?

I'm looking forward
to the time it takes to get somewhere
I'll be there tomorrow
to give you the time it takes to prepare

I'm a long way from home
Living alone
Way out on the other side
of the country
the moon
the day
and you
It's the best place I've found to hide

I'm not excited but I'm not scared
of the trip I'm about to take
I'm not running but I'm not hiding
And I can't say I've made a mistake

You Talk - written 9/28/97 (at 15)

Other people's
Dirty laundry
I don't know you
I might like to
They say you're always gone
But then they're always wrong

Awkward eyes
Maybe they're right
You look surprised
That I would lie
I do it all the time
Dangling arms
and a slanted walk
I wish I could see
The way you talk