Category: Writings

Blue (from Blue’s thoughts)

I know how it feels to be scared. I have spent most of my life being scared. I have felt like there was no-one to trust but many to fear. The ones who were suppose to help me and keep me safe, are the main ones responsible for the fear I have inside. I do cope, if you could say that. Sometimes I relive things and sometimes I imagine things . Using different scenarios I will let my own mind move through it all, until I see what lies at the end of that particular scenario. I have always felt like that is what keeps me from totally cracking or falling apart. If somehow I could imagine things and have myself deal with those imaginations, of worse case scenarios, I would be more prepared and equipped to deal with them should they become a reality. I guess.

A lot of things have happened to me that only I know. As is the case with others, I’m sure. I remember lots of things but never really all in one sitting. The remembered parts of my life, come in segments , sometimes at different months, years, or days. Nothing really has to “set them off”. The thoughts of remembering, just happen when they want , usually. I don’t think anyone could really understand the way my life has truly felt for me. I doubt anyone has a decent clue, even. I have talked about things at various times and those listening will sometimes just nod. Sometimes, those listening to my stories, will comment on what I have told them. None listening or commenting really help me to feel better. In fact seeing their expressions make me feel more isolated, more misunderstood. It is a vicious cycle. I want others to know, to hear, to feel what I did, but how can they, really? Is it even possible?

There has always been that voice inside my head that tells me, “Maybe you have made up half of the stuff you think or say has happened.” It eats away at my mind’s sanity. I mean it could be possible, couldn’t it? Then there is the pain and feelings I felt that flood into my everyday life, into my reasonings, my thoughts, my pain. That would have to be real, right? I mean I have seen or read about someone making up things that they truly believe has occurred or been done to them. They believe in what they have said and feel so much, perhaps they have unannounced to them, convinced themselves of something that is erroneous. I have no doubt that our minds are very powerful motivators for things we do and the actions we do as well.

Why was I put in the life I find myself in? Why must I constantly doubt that true love is something I have, will have, or is even meant for me? I constantly doubt the sincerity of people’s actions, and I question their motives. This comes from the fatherly betrayal and from my own mother’s problems with me, and in dealing with her own life. I find it hard to let myself just relax and lean on another person. It is and has always been a long and strenuous journey for me to come to terms with. However, I must keep going through it, trying to understand it, and keep love in my heart. It would be so easy to not care for anyone, or even myself. I must constantly tell myself I am worthy of love, real love. I must also tell myself that there are genuine people out there with genuine feelings for me. I must never stop believing in faith and hope and charity. Never!

MwsR

Author’s note-

My journey is not the most terrible one that has ever occurred. There are people that have experienced extreme treatments and hurts, and have had awful lives, at the hand of another person. I believe each person is different, feels things differently, and deals with things in a fashion that is appropriate for them. For me, my home life,, has it’s share of secrets, heartaches, and sadness. It is not however without good times, happiness, and love. This has always been my own story, my own life. Being Blue has been one of the hardest burden, to bear. I hope that one day I can help others, the way a few have helped me, by telling the story, so many live and know, as well. I hope in sharing my life that others will find the strength and the courage, for whatever battle they find themselves facing.

The Love Of A Good Dog…by MwsR

I will always smell, for your smell

And always check on you, to make sure you are well

If you don’t mind I would like to lay in your lap a moment or two

To show you all the love I have for you

We will go for walks

We will have our ”talks”

Friends that became family is what we will be

Nothing will be able to separate us, not even a sea

I hope you always see

How inseparable we will be

Just you and me.

Poem

Zero…that’s you

By me…MwsR

You can keep your distance

That distance protects me.

You can avoid my questions

But it sends an unsaid answer you see.

Trade in the old life and start a new

But that won’t change the blood that flows in us the same.

Don’t mention my name in family situations

It doesn’t change the fact, we share a name.

When talking about the past and I’m left out

There’s still going to be the unspoken.

Like all of us from time of our birth

The bond cannot be broken.

Time will just keep happening

And you will stay the same…inside.

But nightmares at night

You cannot hide.

A seldom encounter….

A similar place

A once in a while glance

When we’re near face to face.

Explains everything but nothing

Expresses too much but too little also.

A look in your mirror

Tells who is the ZERO!

Poem Podcast

www.podbean.com/ei/pb-h5spv-cf3dc8

Podcast poem by MwsR, me

Poem

Perspective, By MwsR

There is a time to be present

And a time to be silent.

A time to think first

And a time to resist the urge.

There is a time to be sad

And a time we should be mad,

A time to shout

And a time to figure it out.

There is a season to change

And a season to re-arrange things.

A time comes, to dance around

And a time comes, to escape from our bounds.

A season to mourn for a loss we have had

And a reason to remember the good times that made us glad.

There are risks worth taking

And memories worth making.

For every heartache we share

We should empathize and care

For every thought that crosses our mind

We should watch our words and try to be kind.

There is a time to be proud

And times when we should not be loud.

Every thought, word, action, and event has a place

We all share this with one another in one way and shape.

Lets put things where they ought to be,

It starts with you and me.

Poem

I See This Space
by Me…MwsR

There is so much to remember
So much that it makes me limber
It was another time
It was another place
With different things
With different faces
A mere shadow of me to come
The one who chanced to love someone
The part that made me dance
The one others gave no second glance
No second chance
Strange yet all to close
Nothing will ever rid me of all those ghosts
A train track without an end
Tracing steps like they’re an old friend
Walking alone but really I’m never
Seems it’s common for me to weather.
Glass with a small crack
The crack is always seen but never fixed
I see this space
It’s familiar
It’s large enough to hold
All I am
It’s truly bold
But its never released me.
Not sure if I want to be.
Staying in this space until all eternity.

My Aunt…poem- Camille

Camille….by MwsR(Alzheimer’s)

I watched helplessly as a vibrant smart intelligent woman turned into a whole different person. This was over 20 years ago.

I really had watched this lady my whole life read her Bible every day, do crossword puzzles ridiculously fast, and she had a great personality.

She cooked some of the best breakfast. I loved how she put saltines in her coffee and claimed it took the bitter taste away. She had blondish red hair with curls that she imposed every night from rolling her hair in those foam curlers. She was tall and slender. She wore glasses that she hung on her neck with a chain. She was a modest dresser and loved wearing her socks over her pants while working in the garden. She said that would keep bugs from going up to her pants. Haha.

It seemed like in a blink of an eye that all that changed. Her ALZHEIMERS was a fast progressive kind. I watched her go from praising God to cussing like a sailor. I watched her ability to read, cook, garden and such things diminish away.

She went from being independent to being dependent.

Her Bible laid now, next to a portable potty chair. Her crossword puzzle books would now be torn and thrown around the room from one of her latest fits.

She was no longer kind and acted like a child. Never satisfied and turning on those who loved her most.

I remember her this way…and many other ways too.

It got worse the longer she went through this.

I miss my Great Aunt CAMILLE. I cared for her when no-one else could anymore. She impacted my life then more than I knew ay the time. She kept ALZHEIMERS for many years until one day her souls were at peace. I believe God took her to be with him. I was pregnant with my first child when I said my last goodbyes to her.

Someone mentioned God takes a person when replaced by another soul. I am not sure of this but it reminded me of Aunt CAMILLE. My firstborn came into the world a month after CAMILLE died. So who knows…

Poem (that flows to the tune of the song, ”The Sound of Silence”.

Hello memory, my old friend

I see you came to haunt again

I’ve broken heartstrings and a shaken soul

Took so much effort just to stand the cold

And the wheels ,of my brain, are seemingly strained,

But they still remain

Within the time spent… in silence.

Silence by MwsR