World Poetry Day…

Happy World Poetry Day

For Much Deliberation

Declared by UNESCO in 1999, World Poetry Day is observed on March 21st:

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Two Peas in a Pod

***First time I used the phrase ‘two peas in a pod’ to T he asked what it meant?I explained that it meant two people were identical. He informed me that we were not identical as my one toe is longer than my big toe and his is not.***
Yesterday morning T was annoyed with me. He tried to be sneaky, first time ever. I came out of the bathroom ready to go and see that T is not wearing his jacket. My eyes do a quick check and spot it under his blanket on his couch. I told him that he had to put it on. That it was not yet warm enough for him to go without. He put his jacket on and stomped up the stairs and out the door.
We both got into the car. Sat down. Slammed the door shut. Than did a bounce back so we were in the seat all the way back. Grabbed our seatbelts and buckled them in.  I began to laugh. T is looking at me and I tell him we do the exact same thing when we get into the car. It was like watching a mirror image of myself. I had never noticed this before.
I wonder if I am noticing because I am spending so much more time with him. We are usually apart 2 week out of the month. During those times, he is growing and learning. Changing. I miss seeing the little traits and habits he picks up, unless he happens to do them in front of me.
More and more, I hear myself coming out of T’s mouth. That is okay though, yesterday when I asked T about something mom came flying out of my mouth. Happened again when asking T ‘if he was fibbing’ when he said he text chichi this morning. She came right out there. With T it is a phrase that I use often. I’m not the biggest fan of…..insert whatever you dislike at the moment here. Listening to T say it, I struggle not to giggle at him. That would just make him so very very mad.
I love having him here with me. We have been laughing a lot lately. Yesterday I got my hair trimmed and thinned. It feels wonderfully light. T arrived a little early and asked to play Farming Simulator. I said sure why not. He was complaining to me about the narrow roads when I look up and see a vehicle heading directly at him. I holler you are on the wrong side of the road. This map is in Ireland. T retorts I am use to Canada driving.
Finally I asked T if he noticed anything different about me. He looks over and says no. I roll my eyes and ask how he could not have noticed my hair. For one it was not in a shaggy mess around my head, it was poker straight. He said oh yeah I noticed. Well why didn’t you say anything? Because I thought you would be mad. Mad because you notice my hair. Why would I be mad? It shows that you are paying attention. Mom do I have to pay attention? Of course you do. One day when you start dating you will thank me. Who says I am going to date anyone?
This lead to a conversation about him being an adult. And not dating. I wondered that he would not get lonely?  He would get a dog. Or two. A pig. I suggested that he might want companionship. His answer, he would visit either myself or the Ex every day so we could hang out. I stared at him and said no way, I am not hanging out with you all that time when you are an adult. He fake cried. And I begin to giggle
In a previous post I mentioned a conversation we had about winning the lottery. How I would follow him around everywhere. That this was the same. I sat here, laughing until I had tears and T was a blurry image. I could barely explain to him why I was laughing. I offered him these terms: Should I win the lottery I get to follow him around everywhere and in return he can come and hang out with me whenever not every day but often. He was perturbed by my line of thinking and he informed me that I may not win the lottery. Of course not odds are 50/50.but I would take that wager. Either way I win. I get to spend more time with T. 💞😊💞

Don’t Doubt Yourself

Once more the words reach into the core of me and another light bulb goes off. I am learning to believe I am worth my own happiness. 😊

Discovering Your Happiness

Hello loves ❤

You’re happy. Genuinely happy after what feels like ages. And you’re finally getting the stability you’ve been craving for absolutely ages. You’re finally beginning to get the things you need from your life and everything feels blissful after a very, very long time. But for some reason, you simply cannot shake the feeling that you don’t deserve it. There is a little voice inside you that just keeps saying “Nah, this new job, this new house, this new life, this is all going to go wrong soon. Just wait.”

Fear of happiness is actually a very real fear. It strikes those of us who have always found ourselves exuberant until “the other shoe fell” and suddenly everything we thought would be there for us was suddenly gone, without warning. Fear of happiness affects perfectionists, workaholics, longterm abuse survivors for a range of different reasons, but all of…

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opaque shadows
skitting across my consciousness,
a scene caught from the corner of my mind.
Wondering if what I see,
what I remember
is the truth?
The fear,
the constant refusal of my mind
to acknowledge what I cannot find,
memories of a time long past.
Black holes exist
and the memories I do carry
are stories repeated
until they have become a steady verse.
Over the edge of the abyss I peer
seeking comfort
seeking the bottom where one cannot exist
holding onto the hope
that things can become
steady and true
and no longer will I have to fear
the ghosts that haunt me.
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
 January 29/18

To Pretend or Not Pretend?

I have this uncontrollable urge to pretend that I am okay. That everything is fine. No one is wanting to hear day after day that I am only meh. In 23 days I have had 7 good days and 14 meh days and 2 bad bad days. Which means at the moment I have a 75/25 split between meh and good days. Better than 100% meh.
The urge to pretend comes from the fact that I know how I sound. Like a broken record. When asked how I am, I weigh the pros and cons of telling the truth or to lie. Who wants to sit through another boring litany of my sorry life. How I am having anxiety attacks. How for last 18 hours I again have not been able to stop crying. Lucky is driving me insane with her need to be right on top of me. At the moment she is sitting as close to me as she can without actually being on top of the keyboard. Even in this I sound like I am whining.
I put up a front. When I am alone it is easy to just remove myself by watching t.v. or playing games on the computer. When T is here I have to be present, push myself to look after him and I can do it. I live for when he comes home. I have been lax in the meal department. Well vegetables anyways. T will not eat my salad and I eat salad with everything so Sunday he only had farmer burgers for supper and last night chicken burgers. I had oatmeal.
It is easier not to burden people with how I feel. For when I am like this, when I feel like all I am doing is annoying everyone, I pretend. Pretend that everything is okay. Pretend that I am happy. I vacillate between being high and falling low. I am so all over with my emotions some times I do not know which what is up. I would give anything to not be like this. Everything I write is negative sounding. I reread what I have typed and it sounds like I am ungrateful for the people around me. I am not. I do not want to hurt them which is why I carefully consider what I am going to answer with.
Do I tell you I am having a rough morning? Or do I lie and say ok? I no longer know. I only know that if feels to me as though when I tell someone things are not that great, suddenly there are no more texts. So I am beginning to believe that I should just remain quiet. That my sadness, my pain is my own.
And it is my own.  No one can share it with me. No one can shovel it away to ease my burden.
To pretend or not to pretend? That is the question.

Not his Responsibility

I was sitting here late yesterday afternoon when I received a text from the Ex. Not that this is unusual, he has been checking in on me every couple of days. Asking if I am okay, how my week went. Giving me the encouragement that I need to make it through. I don’t deserve him doing this, I was so brutal to him when we first split up, but that is a story for another day. Back to yesterday, this was actually the second text I received from him. The first was to ask if I would take T for nights during his week while he and K3 (I may need to write myself a K list) are working. So wohoooo extra time for me.  The second text was to tell me that T wanted to come home early. (We have switched from Sunday to Sunday to Monday to Monday so the Ex  has an extra full day with T.
I was a little shocked and asked if everything was alright? I was thinking they had had an  argument or fight. Wanting to have a handle of what I was going to be walking into. The Ex reassured me that everything was alright. And than, he said those words that cut me to my very soul. T wants to come home and cheer you up. I immediately fired back that I was okay and T could stay with his dad for the night. No, he was coming home. T was worried about me.
I text the Ex back and tell him that I have told T that he is not responsible for making me happy. That my depression makes me sad sometimes, but I will always come out at the other end of the tunnel. I probably should have said ‘could you please reiterate to T that he is not responsible for making me happy’ but I assumed that the Ex would know my shorthand solely because he is the Ex. Completely unrealistic as he never got my short handed way of speaking when we were married, why would I think that he would get it now? This is not a him fault, but a me fault. I do it to everyone.
When T got home, he introduced me to Mr. Tuna and the Granola Brothers. He drew faces on the tin and the packaging. I laughed. He sat here and talked and talked to me. His friend had phoned Saturday evening, so T called him back to see what was up. His friend, C, wanted him to come over for a bit and hang out. This does not happen often as usually C is not home on weekends. T comes out of his room, it has begun already, hands me my phone and begins to talk again. I asked what was what ? Oh C had wanted him to come over and hang out but T had felt that it was better to stay home with me. He wanted to be home with me.
As much as I reassured him that I was fine and he could go, T was adamant that he was not going anywhere. He was staying glued to my side.
I again stated to him that it was not up to him to make me happy. That that was my responsibility. His was to be my son and have fun with his friends. While I molded him into a decent human being. He completely ignored me and said, ‘Of course it is mom, who else is going to make you happy.’
Is this what I have done to him? I work so hard not to have him feel this way. Even when I am crying I talk to him and explain that there is nothing that he has done. There is nothing that anyone has done. That I have to let the tears work their way through my system. But I guess he notices those small cues that I cannot hide. The ones that give away that I am not 100% myself.
I am feeling guilt. I want T to be a child for as long as possible. To have that innocence (not the same innocence a child of the ’70’s had but the version that exists now) and not be burdened with the cares of adulthood and the outside world. Yes, things are very different and kids grow up unbelievable fast in today’s world, but one thing remains the same, we do not want to thrust our children into adult situations. And yet, it appears that I am doing so.
I have written before how I make a concentrated effort when T is here. Doing the dishes, tidying up (I am still putting off cleaning apartment with the ‘well V isn’t here until tomorrow it is okay to do it tomorrow morning.’ excuse is the one I am using.) I make sure they are done. Bed being made. Little things as we both settle into our weekly routine. He is smarter than the average bear is T, and he catches the small things most would not even spot.
Today, he is not his bouncing self. Not feeling well, tummy hurts and he has a headache, covering the top of his head. I asked him if he was hungry? No definitely not that, he does not want to eat. I asked if he was saying he was sick so that he could stay home with me? No, he really does not feel well. So as I write this, I am debating whether or not to send him to school. Am I caving into and reaffirming to him that I need him if I allow him to stay home, or is he truly not feeling well and I am making a mountain out of a mole hill?
I have until 8:30 a.m. to make my decision. At the moment T is laying on the couch wrapped in his blanket, Thomas draped across his lap. He has no fever but is clammy despite having taken his shower already.
I will debate the pros and cons of keeping him home from school today. And I am going to figure out a way to ensure that my 9 year old son does not feel that he is responsible for my emotional well being.

Not To Be

****Written and posted last year on FB showed up on my memories. Hard to realize that I was in the midst of my depression at that time and could not see it.***

I work really hard not to be that woman
that friend,
that family member,
that person…..
the one everyone speaks about in whispered tones;
the one who seems to be so needy.

Did I tell you about my shitty week?
I held it in as I listened to your day,
as I held your hand when you cried with fear.
I smiled and nodded
and swore it would be alright;
never once letting you see my pain.

I cried myself to sleep again….
I am strong.
I am independent.
I can take care of myself.
But there are times…not many, but some
where I am the one who needs to be held.

I smile coyly,
my tone so snide
driving you away so that burning tide…
I can ignore it…
I can pretend…

That like always I am okay…

Jay-lyn Doerksen
December 23/16