I knew what I wanted to be as a teenager, when I grew up. I knew it in Grade One when I wrote my first story.
I wanted to be a writer.
What I did not know than, there is no wanting to be a writer, it is who I am.
***I wrote this while I was writing a journal entry. I had goose bumps when I realized the validity of that statement.****
***Image via Cartoon Network found on Internet.
I am a bunny
hear me roar.
You say that I cannot roar?
That I am too tiny and too cute?
Do you not see the fierceness
with which I protect my heart?
Do you not see
that I am the provider of my family?
I am a bunny
see me soar.
Why do you say I cannot soar?
That I am meant to stay rooted to the ground?
Do you not see the dreams
that I create within this harsh world?
Do you not understand the hope
that I watch each day unfurl with?
I am a bunny
tiny and cute
fierce and determined
ready to embrace
the differences that life will share.
*Photo is mine taken today.
I watched the sunrise today
with silent tears on my cheeks
not from sadness you see
but for all the opportunities.
How many sunrises have I missed?
Because of time needed elsewhere
of responsibility and
well, just life.
I am also crying tears-
Tears for the girl I was,
for the woman I thought I would be.
Tears for the woman I became
and tears for the woman I am becoming.
Tears of sadness,
Tears that cleanse my heart
and my soul
allowing me to embrace
all my opportunities.
Today is August 28th. In slightly more than 24 hours I will be 45 years old. I did not actually arrive in the world until 8:20 p.m. so am not “really” 45 ’til than.
I am looking forward to turning 45. I am not the same woman I was when I turned 44 last year. I am by far a much better and stronger version of her. I have taken my life and where I could have continued along the path of destruction I was on I changed. Slowly at first. But as the changes became good changes, as my outlook and feelings became harmonized and less disjointed I welcomed the changes.
I have documented my cycle of depression and how I had to claw my way back. I have an amazing support group who have been with me since I started on the new journey to me.
A journey that has seen me rise high enough to realize I was in an unhappy marriage and find the strength to leave. To my mistakenly believing all my problems were solved by the dissolution of my marriage and I went off my meds. I began to rely on alcohol to get me through the days.
My crash, which scared me so badly because I had allowed myself to be tricked into believing I was okay. Our brains are wicked when presenting one with deceptive illusions.
Even after I resumed taking my meds I still continued to self-medicate with alcohol. Finally July 1st I decided to stop. I went six weeks without drinking. And when I did, I woke the next morning disappointed in myself.
I have had some again but there is a difference. One that I can see and feel. It is no longer a need. There is no desire to negate the feelings I did not want to face.
So tomorrow I am turning 45.
I am eating better. I am sleeping better. I am exercising. I have quit drinking to self-medicate and find that I do not miss it.
Best of all I am writing again. I am more secure in the voice I have. I am letting those wonderful words combine and emerge like a waterfall from my finger tips. I believe in magic again.
At 45 I am beginning to emerge from the cocoon of the past. I can see my present but the future….that is a dream still waiting to be dreamed.
I walk through the greying mists
seeing vague shapes
to the right and left of me.
But when I call out
my voice becomes a mere whisper,
slighter than the flutter,
of a Monarch’s wings.
My tears are but shards of silver
pecking away at my heart
Uncovering hidden losses
and the pain I try to hide.
One day there may be comfort.
One day I may be free.
But until that day I shall fight,
to come back from the albatross
that hangs around my neck.
Each step forward is a struggle.
It feels as though I am wading
wading through life, emotions
without truly connecting.
You ask me if I am okay,
I can see your mouth moving
and I am fairly certain,
certain that I give the standard answer
the one that says ‘I am alright.’
Look a little closer
and you will see;
the tears in my eyes
the fear that I will be discovered as false.
The shattered loneliness I dwell in
all the time.
The black shadows reach forth
capturing me in their fingers
I struggle to break free
only to become submerged again.