When you hold me Hold me so close our hearts blend. If you care for me at all Make me believe without having to ask. Whenever you desire to be with me Show me like a poem written in visual words. If you want me to be in your life, Show me you do, like a puzzle piece knows it fits in its place. Make me see what you see when you think of me With all the purpose that special meaning can be. Loving should come without hesitation And it should serve as a privileged obligation. When giving me your self Help me feel like you have nothing left to give If you can’t Disappear to whence you came.
When I think back on my life, the fifty some years I have been alive on this earth, I have many things that I hold in thought. I think of being adopted, first and foremost. I would not say being adopted made me, but it sure shaped my opinions, my ideas, my motives, at times, and so forth.
One of the reasons I write is because i have a lot of things inside this brunette haired head. I have always used my writing be it by pen and paper, or by typing, as a form of therapy. I have never been to someone for therapy and frankly I am not in favor of doing that, as it pertains to me, I have however, seen those who are so much happier and better for going to see someone in the therapy business. I do believe it can and does help some. I for myself, choose to let God and myself deal with my own issues.
Thinking of my life, I mentioned being adopted. Adoption has many outcomes. Some are painful, some are great, and some adoptions are just so-so. Like with everything in life, adoption is not a guarantee that a person will be happy or fulfilled. It does not discriminate between person’s of any particular race or creed. I believe adoption is like either a means to better predicament, or perhaps someone’s dream in that they wished to be adopted, or maybe it gives hope where hope was lost. If adoption is done right and with open minds, I believe there is much potential for a better life, a more loving one, and a more stable future. I’m not here to just write about adoption, all though to know some of the reason’s why I write, one might need to understand, that I was adopted.
For me pain was a pen. It was the means to get things off of my chest, from around my heart, and out from inside my mind. My pen has always been emotion. I write because I am empathetic and a very sensitive person. I can almost feel another’s plight o their pain. Sometimes it is because I too, have lived their way. Maybe I have contemplated some of their same emotions before. I am not sure that it is just pain that keeps me writing. I think I write because I want to help others. I want others not to feel alone in the emotions they have. Although we all are individuals, we are also emotional human beings.
If you have pain in your past, in your life, in this moment, how can you turn that into something else, maybe something positive? I write sometimes of things I see, sometimes it is things I feel. More than not it something I have lived before that pushes me to write. I do not dwell on what I write, and honestly half of the time I don’t even re-read it. I feel that when I am writing it is coming as it is laid upon my heart. If I were to re-read most of it, I would see flaws, see errors, and if I correct those, I would miss the emotion that led me write it. I don’t know if that makes sense to you. I hope you are following me.
I know people that plan their writings, plan their poems, plan their posts carefully and to a “T”. I do not. I write poems especially as they come in my head. See, that is why it is therapy. You don’t plan what you are going to say in aa therapy session, do you? You just let emotions come as they come. I like rhyming and although poems don’t have to rhyme, I like the flow of rhyming. I like the correlation, like it connects the first line to the next. It is easy to read. It makes things stick in your mind. Like a favorite song verse or a saying that you’ve heard on the radio or someone has “YouTubed”.
Another thing I think about is, what my life will be in the remaining years I have left on this earth. I worry over things that have never happened, but could. I am sometimes a worrywart. I think of scenarios before they actually occur. I use my thinking to come up with a solution or way to handle things. I bet you all do that to.
I love to be able to express myself, express my thoughts, and share something that I think is important. Pain is the pen that helps me write. The point that it read by countless others, and perhaps shared with others, makes me feel blessed. We are given certain opportunities in this world. We can help others, we can hurt others, or we can hurt and damage others. What does your writing do?
There are so many facets of a person’s life. We can either deal with those facets or keep them or ignore them. Either way they will find a way to reveal the issues, or problems we all have. You can write or dance, or create, or do anything that will help you. We should not keep things locked up inside where it will cause damage. Then again, not everything is to be set free from inside either. We are complex creatures and our minds produce alot of funk that might be disturbing or scary to others. Our minds also connect with our feelings and not everyone will understand or accept your thoughts. That doesn’t mean you are not allowed to do whatever means you feels to help yourself. You should, because sometimes we are the only ones who can help us. Sometimes it is a necessary thing for us to take care of us.
As my life has had many ups and downs, many turn arounds, many smiles and frowns, your life does too. Give each moment of your life credit, give yourself a full life. Live and let live. Love and be loved. Where pain has been my pen, I am still happy in the end. I am still having a good life. I made it through many storms of life but I freed myself, God loved me more than I loved myself. That has been enough.
I shall see you all on the other side of the rainbow! MwsR
It is sad sometimes But it is so real. The life we live all the time. When there is doubt or fear, or pain We go back to where we once were. Finding comfort from the same. It’s scary to think For us to move on we need to collect our memories Before they sink. Often blinded by the once was Too much can cloud our today’s. But if you have to, to move ahead, or just because… Then collect your memories Express their feelings as best you can. Be it in song, writing, or whatever sensories.
Today, I felt pain. I felt it surround my heart and once again, I tried to stop it. Why is it that the things we love the most, put such hurt within our souls. I went and poured out my heart, and was shut down by someone’s own perceptions. It was hard to bare my feelings but I had no choice, I had to. The stress between us both has encompassed my life. It has left me feeling inadequate, bruised, and useless. Still, I tried. I laid it out and asked my poignant questions. I felt it needed to be heard. Of course, they did not agree. Like a clam, they shut their heart and closed their ears. They could not see past the past. Are they ever going to?
A part of me wanted to run…run somewhere, run fast, and run hard. But where? I have no answers, perhaps it is a fight or flight response. I wasn’t looking to fight, but it ended up that way, in some regard. Nothing, not even my tears, could calm that stubborn heart I was trying to get through to. I gave in to the pressure of trying to defend myself, against God knows what, for whatever reason, and nothing was accomplished. If anything, it made the other person meaner. As if I had asked them for a “lung”, they thought I was crazy. They refused to talk, heal, or forgive. For which I am not sure what there was to forgive. All I know is that they were determined not to discuss, deal with, or listen anymore, today.
How in the heck did my love for someone get so complicated? How is that they, the one who I built a better part of my world around, has come to be so bitter and so angry. Why? And instead of getting “points” for the good and goodwill done towards them all these years, a disagreement, conflict if you will, keeps a huge wedge filled with distrust and disdain against me. I feel like a failure. I feel like I did not express myself well enough. I feel hurt. I feel broken.
I am sure we all have situations like this. I am sure there are circumstances we cannot control. I am sure of that. What kills me though is the fact that nothing else matters to this person, and they cannot see the uncountable good and love they have been given. Why? Perhaps I should remember the mean people in my life, just so I feel better about myself. Nah, I don’t want to waste my thoughts on those kind of people. I want to do as I always have, forgive and love. I don’t want any other characteristic to be seen but those two. I want to love and love some more. Despite the pain, heartache, and turmoil. I want it to be known that I will never give up on the things that matter in my life. I certainly will never be perfect, but I will do my darndest in trying.
Far from perfect, hurting to the depths of my soul, I will try. I may want to run, may want to fight, but let me never stop caring, feeling, and loving. I want to always keep hope. Don’t you?
She smiled, to keep up the pretense Though she had herself, felt sad and intense. She walked, not into a new day Yet she ran into chaos, from every which way. Her heart had let her down, Still, her mind would not let her drown. She cried, not really for letting others down They were not the reasons she carried a frown. She wished that she could just run away Yet nothing made her demons stay at bay. The dreams and wishes she once had Now, they only make her sad. She smiled to keep up the pretense But what she needed was immense.
Mws R Writings 