Tag Archives: pride

Journal – On Overcoming Fears

 

When I was a kid

I was afraid of the dark.

I used to make myself walk down the hallways in the dead of night

With the lights off

Just to prove … I don’t remember what

Maybe it was pride.

Maybe I despised my own cowardice.

So I just looked at the light switch

Then stared down the demons in the dark.

 

I hadn’t gone to the dentist in eight years

A lost filling finally drove me to the waiting room

Where I sat, my stomach knotty with fear.

After that I kept up with my dentist visits

Through crowns and drills and fillings lost and gained

And stainless steel needles the size of Montana

Culminating in my most recent visit

A small filling restored with,

By my own request,

No numbing agent.

I found it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

Now when I go, I marvel

At my lack of fear.

 

I never allowed myself the luxury of feelings

Afraid that they would hurt others.

This has been the worst fear to overcome.

I have progressed from exploring my emotions,

To writing them out,

To showing them to the world

My family

And hardest of all, my dad.

Because I loved him the most

I hid the most from him.

Protecting him from my unhappiness

Afraid he would blame himself

Or worry about me.

Today he called me

Asked if I was feeling okay

He’d read my bleak poem

And worried.

I reassured him, the poem was old.

When I hung up the phone

I wondered

At my stability in the face

Of what had just happened.

Dad had seen one of my darkest pieces.

And he had worried.

But things are different now.

I can be honest with him.

His humanity doesn’t break me.

My own humanity doesn’t break me.

The self-loathing spiral

Never came.

 

Now I have to keep posting

As if I didn’t know he was keeping up on the blog.

Or rather, I know that he is,

But I am able to be honest now.

Sometimes I want to die

Sometimes I want to stab something

But mostly I love my life

And although I still cherish my family,

I no longer idolize them,

Or feel the need to protect them.

 

I have always considered myself uncommonly lucky

In family and friends.

Today I can feel lucky

And not feel guilty too.

I can feel grief and pain

Just as easily as I can feel love.

 

But most of all,

I can feel.

 

And I feel grateful.

And I feel free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Proud

 

Dad said he’s proud of me.

I well up inside at the words.

What the hell is he proud of me for.

And why should it matter?

I’m fucking thirty.

Part of me thinks, oh Dad, I don’t need that anymore.

Part of me thinks, what have I done that’s any good?

Part of me thinks, I really am something, aren’t I.

And part of me deep down

A very early, primal part

Starts jumping up and down and clapping her hands.

 

I have no success in work

I have no success in art

I have no success in home making

I have no successful mate

I have no success in health or beauty.

I do moderately well in most things.

Proud?

Of me?

Just… generally?

How does a parent think?

Why does he feel proud?

Maybe he’s just happy I turned out okay

Maybe that’s all a good parent really hopes for.

And he was a good parent.

He still is.

A really wonderful parent.

I’m proud of him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

A Study of Denial

One from the archives. Witness the crazy of my previous self.

 


 

 

 

Don’t touch it

It’s poison

It’s a lethal little snake

And it will bite you

With its nasty fangs

And you will die

And I will cry

And wonder why

And bake a pie

Or a ham

But either way

I’ll gain weight

And lose money

And be lonely

And lose a friend

And lose a little piece

Of my heart

So stay away

From that nasty little snake

For my sake

If not

For yours.

 

When I first heard

That Santa was coming

I swallowed it whole

When I second heard

That Santa was coming

I let it slide

When I third heard

That Santa was coming

I scoffed

And went back to the kitchen

And ate up all of the cookies

That the children had saved for him.

Because I’m a bitch.

 

Sometimes you just have to run

Run run run

And don’t look back

And don’t look forward

And don’t think

And don’t feel

And scream away any thoughts you may have

Because at your ankles nips destruction

And in your mind despair is whispering

And in front of you yawns

A long, long life

Which is better left

Unexamined

 

“An unexamined life is not worth living”

 

Tell that to the miserable, the half dead, the crack whores, the ingrates, the shit of society who have thrown everything away. Tell that to the cruel and the heartless and the murderers and the pedophiles and the filthy sin wallowers. Tell them to examine their lives. Watch them wilt. Watch them find bridges from which to leap. Watch them push the examination away in denial.

 

A study of denial

When everyone sees what you won’t

You are protecting yourself from pain

You are defending your precious identity

You refuse to admit you were wrong

Because what if you were wrong?

At what point does denial first set in

When it starts small

And can be easily corrected

When it’s only a small worm in your consciousness

If it got caught and excised then

Nothing would happen

But if it is allowed to remain

It will feed on your common sense and perspective

It will grow to outrageous proportions

Take over and block out an entire lobe of your brain

Until you are simply babbling lies

Which a year ago you would have caught in an instant

And you are laboring over something so stupid

And have been laboring over it for so long

That you can’t even see it for the bullshit it is

And your friends and your family

Have given up on telling you

Because you freak out so badly when faced with the truth

That they’re afraid you’ll choose your mountain of bullshit over them

Some even get dragged into it themselves

And lose their sense to it

This is insanity

This is reality

This happens all of the time

We are all fighting to keep

Our mountains of bullshit

Because we don’t want to admit our wrong

It’s all about fucking pride

Why don’t we have the intestinal fortitude

To take a hit to our pride?

What are we

We build identities

We make them up

Based on what people tell us

Based on what we tell ourselves

And then we fight to protect this construct

Sometimes at the expense of our loved ones

Sometimes at the expense of ourselves

Jesus fucking Christ

We are so deluded