I seem to be
walking away
from triggers
walking away from people
who trigger me
make me angry.
I seem to be
finding a way
Feet carrying me on warm summer nights
now
over new terrain
exploring new places
cool shady trees
and different water features,
thoughts – none,
only peace
Who I used to be – she died back at the end of May.
————-
Sometimes
it is just too much
and I cry.
Sometimes
it is just too much
and I get angry.
but for a moment today
when the dental office assistant
walked out
without making my next appointment or letting me pay
saying i she would call me tomorrow
I just stood there…
then followed her out
to the hot street
in the summer evening
thinking how
we are all broken
how professionalism
has disappeared
and
startling myself
by not caring too much
proving only
to myself
that I am indeed changing
that I have indeed
Become someone else
I just don’t know
how this new version of me
will earn a living
yet.
sometimes I am frightened
by I am already on the path
already walking
already learning
how to be someone
I cannot define
but I am sure
she is a less
traumatized
less damaged
less anxious or insecure
Less cruel
less cutting or cold
version of me
During the process
in the change
Comes the grief
the loss
the longing for that place
the person we
no longer are.
As we learn to rise
as we become
more than we used to be
Sifting through broken pieces
the only way is through
no matter how hard,
how painful
how much time it takes…
Trying to find where the anger all started.
Trying to find a way to get free of it.
Thinking how
past
lived experiences shaped me
to become
who I am
how I act, react, what I expect and all I learned not to.
Champion of the underdogs
always trying to find ways to lift others up
because
I know how it is
to be at the bottom
tired and fighting against the overwhelming, the insurmountable
at least without help.
Perhaps my up bringing
as I sift through
what I find soothing
laying on the shop couch evenings
watching him work
fixing something, always…
is somehow soothing
and what makes me so darn angry
I can’t stand to look at it
or go off on an angry rant about something.
Soothingly familiar pieces
the jagged edged ones
the wreckages broken beyond repair
trying to let it all go.
These days I can’t stand demands of others on my time
hate being pinned down,
stare at what is falling apart
angry only that we kept and keep alive
so long
so woefully unmanaged
The terminally restless, agitated dementia patients
or the brain injury ones
or the ones that have such severe mental health issues
they are violent, chaotic, dangerous to have to deal with.
Yet we did
every shift
and I
don’t know how
I did that
got hardened by the abuse
developed thick skin, a tough outer shell
protection against
years
of onslaught.
How could I not?
did it to survive.
but the anger these days
that stays
that runs deeper still
Back to a time
I had no recourse, no justice, just as now,
and back then I had no protection
was soft, anxious, young, insecure,
so vulnerable
and got wrecked by it
sinking
while struggling to learn
how to swim
how to endure
how to play the game
the rules constantly changing,
the games stacking one after another on top of each other
coming in so hard and fast
hitting before you barely draw the next breath.
Now is time to learn to breathe,
to be free,
to stay suspended
weightless
taking stock.
waiting for the next thing
having no idea what that will be
Painted love affair 