Come to Me

The darkness was supposed to have lifted.
And maybe it did.
But I could not see it because I was still screaming.
In the fetal position on the floor with my hands covering my eyes and my ears.
Screaming like no one has ever heard someone scream before.
Feeling every tendril of despair wrapping around me.
Bits of my heart being sucked through my skin to fly off into the outside.
It was like a tornado inside out screaming red blood into space without stars.
Screaming until air ran out.
Then and only then I was shaking,
Shaking like leaves in the rain or a body seizing with a brain bleed.
Hairs up on end.
Terrified for me.
Fight or flight after we already fought and flew.
“Please God make it stop, Help me survive!”
But He already did.

Then someone touches my shoulder tenderly.
I ignore it at first but it stays.
“Oh God, am I alive?”
My lungs tear out to meet the stranger,
Erotically I wrap myself around it, or him.
Come inside me, give me every inch of you.
What is this monstrous lust(?) inside me?
Come to me!

Burdened suddenly by desire my breath ceases.
Enter me.
The darkness seeps between my lips
Yanking my head back and sending my arms back in acceptance,
Surrender to my hearts last beat.
I breathe tar into me,
Pulling at it with something from deep inside me.
Eating it without chewing for a moment.
Consuming it until it is all in me,
Choking me, taking me, killing me, eating me.
Being me inside out.

Motherhood DID Ruin My Life

I keep seeing all these posts from other women that are supposed to be jabs at “the liberals” for talking about how miserable having lots of kids makes them.(I know I know Stereotype but it’s not my stereotype it’s theirs!) Instead it just makes me feel like they are showing off how awesome their life is.

Now I know they aren’t doing this on purpose, but having kids has been the most miserable experience of my life. For 26 years I looked forward to being married. I was so excited for everything about it but a big part of how excited I was was the sex! So obviously hubby and I had sex every chance we got when we first got married. 9 times the first day, and at least once after that.

Until we lost Emma. Now, losing Emma was not as simple as it looks in the movies. I gave up a job I had been working for for 2 years to keep her safe, Hubby and I worried constantly and panicked about the insurance and taking care of her and where she was going to live, I was miserably tired and sick the entire time I was pregnant and SO fat. I gained a whole size the 9 weeks I was pregnant with her.

Then actually losing her was the most horrifying thing you can imagine. Huge blood clots, blood constantly steaming out of me, so much blood it just constantly streamed even when I was the shower, insane cramps, and panic attacks so severe you can’t imagine. Even most of the women I know who’ve had miscarriages don’t seem to have panicked as severely as I did. I was sure I was going to die.

Then she was gone. I did not even get to hold a beautiful baby girl at the end of it. I got nothing good, just loss and utter misery. And worse, now sex, which I looked forward to for 26 years, became a nightmare. Every time we are together it becomes about avoiding a baby, no simple love anymore. Charting, dating, recording, timing. All conspiring to make it really hard to just enjoy each other.

Then I got sick of it. We tried again. Lost Charlie at 3 or 4 weeks. I didn’t even get far enough to feel like I can grieve him. But I know he was there, and that was a miscarriage clot. I NEVER have clots at the time of the month, and that time of the month was way too early to not be losing my baby boy. That was followed by quite a panic attack.

Then, I find out that my religion forbids oral sex. I asked priests for 2 years if they did, but I don’t find out they forbid until it becomes the only way I survive our time avoiding. So my religion is in tatters and has become a weapon against my survival.

Now if I go to Church I have to listen to them talk about how great women are if they have lots of babies. And if I go to a Catholic young adults group my husband and I get stares, and glares, and other couples boasting about getting pregnant after “only 3 months” of being married. Well, I TRIED. I did not want to have kids, but I gave it a chance because I love my husband and my Church wanted us to have kids, and I did not want to do NFP. And only 3 months? We were pregnant within a week. And in that week we lost our chances for a blissful first year of being newlyweds.

And that is just a taste of everything motherhood has done to me.

So, motherhood didn’t ruin your life? Great. Good for you. I am glad you got so fucking lucky. But I didn’t. Motherhood ruined me. I am a completely different person now, and I don’t want to be her. This isn’t who I am. But now it is.

Gone Girl

Sitting at the coffee table, modernized by the reflection his laptop made upon my eye, was a quietly made man. Not necessarily quiet as a self, though I hadn’t heard him speak. There was just something quiet about his appearance, his very existence. He had glasses or maybe he didn’t. But he was thinking about writing, in that way only writers with a past do. Life was weighing on him and it had almost taken him away.
Did you ever wish that when someone was truly suffering you could see their lifeforce fading? So that all they were going through was visual? I wish that for myself. Sometimes I’m dying and no one can see it on the outside. If one could just see me fading, maybe they could touch that part that’s not breathing, and breath would face me again.
So I approached him. I couldn’t fully. His fading had gone too far. Standing at the very edge I watched him. Maybe I guarded him from something, but I felt a slight tremble in the air around him. His eyes closed, making me think whatever had just happened, had actually happened. Then color slowly, almost imperceptibly, faded into his lifeless existence. His burgundy sweater hid a gingham button up, leashed in with a tie that he couldn’t keep bound up. Then, brown slacks sat beneath him, and a pale neck rose from the loosed tie,into a calm, worn face. Finally, his gaze fixed through his glasses onto his laptop, and he wrote.

Love’s Choice

I think my biggest worry is what I don’t really love you,
What if I hid it from myself again and I’m in a delusion once more,
How could I do this to myself again? Could I?
I did it before.

I don’t care this time.
I don’t care about my doubts, I want to marry you.
I know there will be doubts in my head about anyone,
But you will take care of me.

You will hold me better than anyone I have ever known,
You love me better than I have ever seen,
You look at me with every tender beating heart stroke,
You’ll be there for me through every cross and crown.

I know it beyond any doubt I have in me,
I know it, when I beg you to take me to the sea,
I know it when you hold me and caress me full and whole,
Hold me for the rest of my life.

I will see you tell our daughters they are beautiful,
And hold them with the strength of 1000 men,
I will see you hold them and leave me to my rest,
And come back to me and read to me in bed.

I will make you dinner each night while you’re away,
I’ll wake naked so you can see what all is yours,
We will find a way through every financial burden,
And cling to one another in our pain. 

So maybe it doesn’t matter if I love you,
Because maybe every day I’ll chose to be yours,
And maybe the emotions I feel sometimes
Will find themselves in every time I choose.

For a Moment of Time

Weeks have gone by since this cup has flowed out,
And in that time i paced in paths unknown,
But carefully I came to ny aetern shout,
And waited at the feet to see what’s shown.

A figure passed whose form I nigh embraced,
Another met in heartrooms corridor,
The latter met and kissed my hidden face,
While the former brought my outward to fore.

While in the tenderness of one I wait,
The other kindled flame of soon to come,
Nerves within my heart, you, dear one, plait,
While he encompasses to bring me home.

May I find in him no satisfaction,
If you will be for me, for one fraction.

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