Choices

This is a continuation of River Styx, Desert Red, Waste/Safe Land, Harlequin and My Knight.
We travelled
mostly in silence
chirps of birds
chittering of squirrels
sometimes the only sound I heard.
I sensed
felt
knew
that somehow I disappointed
this gentle giant.
I did not know how
nor what I could do
to rectify my mistakes.
We avoided cities
towns
any sign of civilization
until the abuse done to me
physical abuse
had healed.
The scars on my mind
woke me
screaming in the night
from nightmares
where Harlequin still ruled.
He began to train me.
Sword.
Knife.
Skulking.
Shadow hopping.
Every conceiveable way
I could now
protect myself from harm.
I woke one morning
to find him gone
disappeared
into the mists of my past.
I walked alone
ruing my mentor‘s departure
for I still did not know……
where I was?
who I was?
what journey
what choices must I make?
Sept. 18/18
Photo by Anders Nord on Unsplash
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Harlequin

***This poem is a continuation from River Styx, Desert Red and Waste/Safe Land
Peddler man
left me at the edge of the grassland
indicating
I was to meet the next guardian
through my travels
in this blindingly green world.
Abraded
flesh
soul
reborn
my heart was light
joyous even
as I followed the path.
I saw them before they saw me.
Soldiers gleaming gold
in burnished armour.
Squinting I move forward
to find myself surrounded
by men with pikes
with swords
desperation vivid on their faces
as they took me into custody.
Forced to kneel
before the Harlequin
believing
he was to be my next guide
I was caged
jailed
forgotten
for a small time.
Imperious Harlequin
an intricate dance for two
chained by his side
I sink into disrepair.
Sept. 16/17
Photo by elen aivali on Unsplash

Waste/Safe Land

***This poem is a continuation from River Styx and Desert Red
Travelling the desert
a hundred days
I felt sand
scouring
flaying
devouring
flesh from my bones
molding
forming
another me.
Peddlar man
quiet
plodding along
but inherently
seeking oasis after oasis
as I needed rest.
he refused to answer
any
all
cajoling
questions.
Shaking his head
not in annoyance
more like a parent indulging their child.
We crested that last sandhill
my mouth fell open
a silent o
as before us
spread out
a verdant sea
tears spilling down my face.
Sept. 15/18
Photo by Robert Lukeman on Unsplash

Desert Red

***This is a continuation from the poem River Styx.***
I climb
over burnt amber sands
piled high
reminescent
of snow hills
I played on as a child.
Glaring sun
no respite
I stumble along
unsure
where I am going
what I will find at the end.
Moving one foot before the other
cracked lips
I can feel the skin on my face
blistered
charred
no agony
no pain
Is this trial by fire?
Will the sins staining my soul
finally be erased?
An oasis I seek
mirage
what I find
until finally I fall
unable to move further on.
finds me
face down
covered partly by sand.
With surprising strength
he picks me up
placing me on his wagon.
‘Rest little one.
I am the next to carry you further.’
Sept. 13/18
Photo by Mason Field on Unsplash

Mask Be Gone

Today will be another 2 post day but I will leave the second one for later on. It is a fun filled one about T and me last night.
I need to give credit where credit is due with regards to the posts where I have a lightening strikes moment and insight happens.  All of them, at the very least 99.9% of the time they evolve out of conversations that I am having with friends. They will make a statement or ask a question and suddenly boom there it is. And I talk it out with whomever I am talking to at the moment. The vast majority of them are broken down between two people of whom K is one of.
Today she is going to make cold calls for the company that she is working for. Dropping off flyers/information packets at the business around the area. When in the office for the most part she can go casual. Today though, she was not sure if it would be okay to wear casual or make a better impression if she dressed up. What did I think. And I thought about it.
Sales Person=Professional look=suits/slacks w/dress shirt for men. Pantyhose/skirt/slip/blouse/dress pants/blazer/dress/heels/flats/purse
for women. Damn uncomfortable being dressed up like that all the time. I have done it in the past and best place I have ever worked was for a company that was in production. I was in Customer Service but could handle this because I dealt with the salesmen not actual customers and I  could wear jeans and sweatshrits to work. I was in my glory. (To be honest the first day I started I wore dress pants in and was told I was dressed up too much.)
I explained that that was my definition of a sales person’s dressware and K agreed. She is going to throw her flair into it though and come out looking awesome. I began to think though as we are talking about what facades we put on. We are programmed to think and feel about certain people and careers solely based on how they are dressed.
Ex: A meeting is taking place between 2 competitors with a company. Person A arrives for the meeting casually dressed because he/she knows that the product they are selling is exactly what the companny requires and at a fraction of the cost even with a few bells and whistles thrown in of their competitor. Person B arrives for the meeting in business attire. Their product essentially the same as Person A’s but with extras that the company does not need nor will they ever use. And it costs triple the price. In the end despite the fact that Person A’s product is what they need for a great cost the company choses to go with Person B.
We immediately disregard people if they do not fulfill our preconcieved notions of how they should look. How does one know that the lawyer who wears jeans and tee shirts to the office did not graduate at the top of his law class while the lawyer in the $1000 suits who charges hourly did not? We give so much creedence to how we present ourselves to the world, that we forget who we are.
At work I have a facade. Chipper. Always happy. Smile on my face. Flying around here there and everywhere. Stopping to talk to people. Helping customers find what they need. This is the face that I wear day in and day out, 40 hours a week whether or not I feel like it.
Before Dec. 23rd, my entire being was a facade. I smiled and pretended I was happy. I laughed and talked and tried to be the world’s best problem solver. As I type this I recalled a moment just before that saturday which made me realize how much my facade was me.
I had been helping a customer and chatting away with them. When done I went over to another till to bag for one of my cashiers and her customer. All of us are chatting away and both of them mention that I am always happy. My mask slipped for a brief moment when I admitted that I was not really 100% me. And both of them told me that they never would have known. That I certainly did not show that things were not quite right.
Maybe if I had not been so intent on presenting myself as a strong and capable woman who required no assistance someone might have noticed a little earlier as the cracks began to appear. Maybe if I had been willing to be truthful with myself, I could have, no there is no could have. My facade had become me. I had become my facade.
Now I can look in the mirror and see me. This morning after I put cream on my face and set my glasses on my nose I took a really good look at myself in the mirror. And I saw me. The real me. The one who’s eyes are sparkling, clear, not fogged and drug numbed. I no longer look haggard and tired. I am still sleeping the same but again, there are no drugs at play deadening my sleep. I feel good. My hair is not looking brittle and ready to crack. Nor is it falling out in handfuls any longer. My skin is clearer and smoother as well.
There is another part of me that fell beneath the illusion of my facade and the role I was playing. That was my brain. My brain has been fooled and stupified and drug numbed for so many years I am damn surprised that it still functions. But it is there. With ideas and knowledge and truths that I fought to hide from for so long. I am open to the changes that are tearing down the ugliness that I wore to fool the world and replacing it with me. The real me.
I began thinking this was going to be a random reflection based on what K and me were talking about. Instead it opened my eyes further to the changes that I have wrought both inside and out. I am not going to wear masks any longer. What you see is who I am. I want to be accepted for the person that I am, not the person that society expects me to present to the world at large.

Pain & Joy

Pain

rippling and folding

into every part of me.

Wrapping

chains of horror

around my soul.

Warping

my bemused mind

as I let go.

I now understand the root of my addiction.

I feel too much. I love too much. I give too much.

And when it falls,

when beneath the burden of my too muchness

it disintegrates,

that backlash of pain is overwhelming.

I recall now

the tears, the rage, the everything

that comes from this all absorbing pain of…..

Failure.

Not being enough.

Not believing enough.

From loving too much.

From giving everything.

From my own fantasies.

Silly girl that I can be.

Yet as I stand within this maelstrom of sorrow

I begin to understand my strength.

I do love.

I do give.

I do feel.

I do not need to hide from these emotions.

For within them is the true me

the girl who still dances with butterflies

and loves with all her heart.

The woman who can finally accept

the joy that comes from giving her all

and embraces,

rather than fights it.

©Jay-lyn Doerksen

Oct. 30/17

 

My Ex

A while back I wrote about how my ex and me were getting along and I realized how much I had matured. Well today I took that one step further. Today I looked passed the man who made me unhappy and spoke to my friend.

This is a man who at one point and time I loved. It is not his fault nor is it mine that in the end we just were not happy together. We are such very different people with little in common. 

Today was the first time that we had a conversation in a long time. And we both laughed. Not the fake ‘yeah get out of my face you are annoying me’ laugh but a real laugh. One that sets the other to laughing. 

We also still have inside jokes and can say things to one another that we are unable to say to anyone else. There have been a few times, where I have been spitting mad and the only one I can vent to is him.

In talking with a girl friend today, she informed me that I was taking the mature route with him. All I had said was his girlfriend was good for him.

And I no longer had to take care of him.

This man is helpless as a baby attempting to organize a tea party. I sent him numerous texts regarding the dates he had T over the summer. I also sent him several screen shots of my calender so he had it. Finally his girlfriend messaged me asking what the dates were. 

That is only one example. 

I can afford to be nice and decent to him. I am happy and in a great place in my life. And I really am working hard to let go of negativity.

It was easy to be angry with my ex when I left. I was blaming him for my unhappiness. Which really is unfair because I had a hand in my own unhappiness. I could have stood firm when I tried to leave three months prior to everything imploding. 

Now though…I am in my own space. I am writing daily. My relationship with my son and mom are amazing. 

So yes, I can afford to be kind with M2. And I even like his girlfriend even though we have not really spoken. But she is excellent with T and that more than anything makes me like K3.(Lol too many K’s- best friend, Auntie and now M2’s girl friend. M1 being my bestie.)

M2 loves T with all his heart. And at the end of the day that is all that is important. He is doing his best to be a great dad. Our failure to make our marriage last aside he will always be my friend.