Tag Archives: recovery

Landline

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How do you explain to someone that they’re your life line?

A physical cord, as if it were a landline.

I feel as if I don’t care about any other calls I may receive.

They can listen to a busy tone.

Sorry, not sorry, but I’m unavailable.

Codependency? I don’t believe so.

I talk to others all the time, mainly in person.

But his calls? Those intimate late night talks?

Those are the ones that fuel every bit of my broken soul.

It’s in the small details.

The intricate yellow spiral spanning a few feet long.

Nothing grand, nothing glamorous, but it’s sturdy, safe, and reliable.

Sturdy, safe, and reliable.

How sad that these were qualities in past relationships I had never seen, never heard of; simply never knew they existed.

This landline feels like the newest cellphone on the market to me.

It’s a discovery I wouldn’t sell for any amount in the world.

They can have their shiny toys,

ones they pay extra for, monthly,

just to repeatedly break and replace.

That’s their version of reliable.

A backup plan they continuously invest in.

I don’t pay extra.

I don’t think of the newest model, an “upgrade.”

I don’t purposefully destroy.

What I have…

What I have is timeless.

What I have isn’t as easy or convenient,

but damn, does it always work.

What I have is forever.

Each spiral pulls a little further,

expanding itself to reach whichever new rooms I may venture into.

What I have is perfection.

What I have is real.

The laying on your bed and

kicking your feet in the air, 

with your fuzzy pajamas on,

venting about the mundane, 

and gossiping about all things spicy and juicy.

It’s nostalgic, yet fresh.

It’s peace, yet chaotic.

It may require a little extra maintenance, but we willingly do the work.

We don’t pawn it off.

We don’t hang up the call.

This is what I hold the closest to my chest.

This phone hears every beat of my heart,

and I deliberately pause to pay attention…

to hear the percussion of love on the other end.

I’m in love.

Deep, burning, indescribable love.

Lucky me, 

I get to hear that baritone voice on the other end for the rest of my life.

The Waiting Room

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I had a dream the other day.

We were in a doctor’s office.

Perhaps it was a metaphor of a true check-up.

A storm was coming,

and the predictions were egregious. 

We chatted about our preparations,

and held small talk about how we were doing.

You haven’t crossed my mind in years.

Unless I’m drudging up mistakes of the past, or the love I’ve lost,

I simply don’t give you access to my mind.

You’ve already done enough damage,

and my rental has been finishing repairs.

I love the reconstruction, honestly.

I’m finally being booked at a higher price, 

the one I should’ve charged for you.

My love met me at the office and you shook his hand.

You watched us leave and I looked back.

I smiled, and could feel my hand grip his a little tighter.

The healing, the growth, the success, the unconditional love, and the value…

I have that. I did that.

Everything you once told me that I couldn’t be or couldn’t have…

here I am, and I have it all.

You’ve crept in the background, 

and don’t feel surprised,

because I saw you.

This dream granted you full visibility.

For once, we shared true transparency.

It was invigorating.

It was powerful.

After all this time, I’ve still held a small amount of pain and anger.

Not necessarily because I’m thinking of you; don’t let your ego get inflated, 

but rather the situations that involved you.

The trauma showed itself in the unexpected. 

Cruel, bent, rusty nails that just wouldn’t budge.

I finally got to tell you how I worked hard to be where I’m at today.

Incredibly hard.

I deserve this life, this love, and this healing.

I deserve to walk away with this smile.

I earned it.

I hope you’re in a similar place, truly.

I think that was the point of the dream.

I’m finally strong enough to wish you well.

Vacancy

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I started writing this way back in January of this year. I finally finished it not too long ago, in June. Honestly, the delay is very fitting considering the theme of this poem. It’s been a struggle to declutter my head and the detrimental negativity that’s clouded my life. I’m here. It’s getting better. More rooms are opening up for bigger and brighter things, and the anticipation is extraordinary.

Cheers.

I’m in need of some vacancy.

My mind has been too full lately.

My trauma hasn’t paid a dime.

He’s committing theft, amongst other crimes.

My tenants have tunnel vision.

Endless sorrow, that’s their mission.

Depression occupies the big suite.

Anxiety rests on the balcony.

Paranoia guards the front doors,

with desperation as its floors.

Joy has been begging to come in.

The other tenants simply won’t let him.

They fear he’ll set the house on fire,

and he will leave no survivors.

What can I do to sneak him in?

I’d light the match and start over again.

I’d have love stay in the big suite;

creativity on the balcony.

Aspiration guards the front doors,

with motivation as its floors.

Joy fills the air in every room.

Finally, my soul will begin to bloom.

The fire that caused death,

bore life.

Jink

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It’s time.

Jink: a sudden quick change of direction.

Writing a song for this blog. I filmed myself on my laptop while writing this. It took 40 minutes. This is an anthem for me. I make “quick changes of direction” often. I am glad I do. Watching the video back, I am able to witness myself singing words straight from my heart. Words that I’m sharing with all of you. I’m happy I documented it. Here is my song, Jink.

Enjoy.

JINK

V1:

lying down on the bed,

another restless night

am i better off dead

how can i still fight

those battles I’m losing

the choices I’m choosing

will it settle my mind

will i sleep tonight

V2:

bottle of pills in hand

all the doubts are clouding

drift to a better land

my smiles are frowning

nauseous by the facade

time is low on the clock

have no time for pouting

time to make it stop

Chorus:

happy in the light, no one sees the dark

making all the appearances

joking over the seriousness

i can’t lie anymore

i can’t force open the door

asking for help is never my answer

always the advice

but it spreads like cancer

living in denial

living in fear

living in spite

of the loved ones i hold dear

i can’t help the feelings that i have

i can’t help that your help makes me mad

makes me mad

V3:

you don’t live through this

you just can’t understand

and now my pain is bliss

from drugs in my hand

should i go and swallow

my poor heart is hollow

is quitting really grand

tonight the pills drop

*Chorus*

V4:

i’ll pray another day

in the morning i’ll wake

there’s still fight left in me

it’s all up to me

one day i’ll become free

maybe it’s not the way

drugs shouldn’t be my escape

tonight i am safe

tonight, i am safe.

i am safe.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

Until next time,

Lo.