a beautiful mind – Page 3 – The Whole Cookie

Her path of authenticity

She thanked her profusely for never following through with her suicidal thoughts. She couldn’t bring herself to ask if there were actual attempts. She just let her brain assume so, but prayed there weren’t and won’t be anymore.
Fear…

These two are so freakishly alike it’s a beautiful harmonious connection. They’ve shared those thoughts as if these were good bonding moments. Really what it says is, “I know better than anyone, and understand your heavy heart, the devastating pain and deepest hurts you’re feeling”. Her mama couldn’t possibly know how she felt exactly, but the agony resonated. The feelings of complete despair and just a desire for the pain to stop. Yeah, that she gets.
Confusion…

Mama sits with her, she’s learning to listen, really hear her child’s anguish, obstacles, fears and all the past that floods her head and it all pours out. Sometimes her words are accompanied with anger and outbursts still, almost always with tears and probably for a long while still with confusion of what to do next. “Take it slow, but definitely at your pace”, she encourages her.
Processing…

Let her just vomit her words so the poison is extracted. “It’s ok”, she tells her, “I can hold it for you sweetie, I can take it”. Mama knows her frustration isn’t about her necessarily. She can be her sounding board, but not her punching bag or doormat. She’s learned that part of detachment pretty well. It’s not without difficulty when it’s your own child.
Unconditional…

Ever since she was 12 her favorite expression was, “I got this mom”. And you know, she always has. Mama smiles intently at her, “I know baby, but it’s ok not to have it all figured out right here right now. Give time time and let things come to you naturally when you can. Forcing solutions can be frustrating as hell, as can sitting still, I know”.
Wisdom…

Their talks are more frequent now and her mama is grateful for the relief she sees in her child’s face more often, now and then, here and there. This is only the beginning of all the transitions ahead, yet the only thing that ever matters to her mama is her children’s happiness, contentment and feeling loved, all of them.
Closeness…

She gave birth to her and her brothers, she has them all on borrowed time and she knows this too well. Time is fleeting and life is precious. How quickly it can disappear, how fragile it actually is. Guilt consumes her some days. The “if only’s” play out in her head and she cries. Sadness overwhelms her at times and she makes time to call her child just to say I love you. She can’t seem to hug her tight enough when she sees her. Never again will she ever feel her mama’s absence, nor will her brothers.
Available…

She thinks they still need her as they always have, but really it’s mama who’s needing them more.
Present…

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

An expression of genuine love

He was two, his vocabulary off the charts. A beautiful little child, expressive with a smile that sparked her mama’s heart, yet in the same breath, an unexplainable sadness about him. The frustrations were more frequent and the ability to comfort and soothe him were becoming increasingly difficult. At times he was inconsolable.

He was the middle child with a brother on either side. While the games they played were rough and tumble, he never much enjoyed them. As he grew, so did his sensitivity level. Mama became increasingly concerned. She began to wonder if her sweet little one needed therapy, for a toddler, a preschooler and eventually an adolescent? She was tormented and torn by his unexplainable agony, but this paled in comparison to what her child was dealing with, severe emotional pain, trauma, inner turmoil and self abuse with increasing suicidal tendencies.

She blamed the father of their three children. After all, he was the more broken one, the one who drank too much and often didn’t come home. Of course this child felt the tension and abandonment repeatedly. She missed the clues, they were so blatant, but only in retrospect.

Guilt washed over her, protect her babies from suffering was her obsession. Her focus had become tunneled, her energy consumed by what he was and was not doing for her, for them. Divorce became inevitable and so it came.

These three were the center of mama’s universe. Her sole purpose for being and now, she was all they had. With two tweens and a teen, they embarked with a fresh start, but it was becoming increasingly more challenging.

They were finding their footing, though mama was very strict, she was highly encouraging and supportive of their individuality. This same child seemed more devastated with every passing year, constantly testing her patience, he was heightened by his emotions, defiant yet fragile, sensitive and loving, with such rage and anger. He had become hell bent on breaking out and fighting for independence. Life was hard at times, but they were a team, the four of them. They always found their way, together.

Mama taught them about choices, they were theirs to make, but to know, the consequences also belonged to them, regardless, so try to choose wisely.

Her then 16 year old came home one day, his girlfriend beside him to announce they were having a baby. Six weeks after they graduated high school, a beautiful baby girl blessed all our lives, drawing them even closer as a family. This precious little girl was the joy that his mama thought was beginning to ground him, bring him a new purpose and a reason for living a wonderful life. Though it made a new set of challenges and difficulties, he took his role as a daddy very seriously and still does.

By age 27, this amazing person found a new sense of courage. A brave stand that would allow him the freedom to get very real and honest with himself after a lifetime of denying his true identity. The words he braced mama for, the ones that took four hours that night to find the courage to speak, four hours and nearly 27 years. With tears of relief streaming down his eyes, he blurted them out, “Mom, I’m a woman.”

And her mama sat there just listening to the words as they washed over her. A smile emerged from her lips, while a single tear rolled down her cheek and a sigh of relief escaped her breath. In that moment, “I love you sweetie” was all her child needed to hear as she herself melted for the acceptance from the woman who raised her…

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

Relearning how to breathe

My assignment she gave me, a grief letter with instructions what to do
Write it out on paper like somehow that will help me get over you

She hears my heart and knows I’ve been drifting awhile
Angrily I told her, please help me to stop obsessing so I can once again find my smile

The opener would say, no one ever fought for me, but I never stopped swinging, fighting for that love
A broken little girl who just desired to be wanted and cherished simply for who I was

I know my daddy loves me, the 20 times I saw him he told me this as so
You reminded me of the same, in fact the words went like this, “I said that I love you, once was enough for you to know”

All these years I’ve been working on my insides, mending what needs fixing, soothing what needs comfort, fighting for what ought to be freely given
I can see it in the distance, how life is supposed to go and I am choosing the path that shows me what it’s like to be living

Coulda shoulda woulda such a tormented little game
I’ll start to leave those phrases out, the ones which lay forth all the blame

Grief is like a party for us who show up to play the part
But really for me, all it does is remind me of my hurting, fractured heart

The conclusion might read something along these blurred lines and such
We are all a little flawed, imperfect little humans, but for me, I don’t ask for much

I can articulate my pain, sadness and struggles better than most
But for you all, no no, pour another round, raise your glass high to give yourself a toast

Thank God for my journey and path where it has led
I lay myself down at night, taking it all in as I curl up in my bed

I pray for the lost, the weary and weak
For those who still suffer looking at life as it were bleak

Each and every one who has taken something from me
I am being restored by grace and honor and even with a little more dignity

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

Your influence murdered my spirit

He needed me desperately so. The way a child cries out though grown now, his suffering remains and you said no.

How could I know what was lying in wait? Then you came along, pretending like I mattered, you actually told me I did, I was stupid and took the bait.

She was lost and sinking below, her hand stretching out, please don’t let me fall.

Lock all the doors and close the windows tight. If she comes by to get in, she’ll find it a colder dark night.

You cruel heartless man I let into my life. How dare you make me choose between you and my children causing nothing but strife.

You fooled me every step of your dark way. How I cried and caved in to your insidious hurtfulness.
I was nothing more than your prey.

My spirit was shattered believing the promises that were spoken. It took valuable time and hard lessons to learn I was nothing more than a token.

So much time has passed and been forgotten but not for me, reliving the homicide to my
soul that was broken.

Resurrection takes place a little at a time, restoration precludes all the damage that’s done, repairing the splinters I hold in my hand.

They all forgave me without a moment to think. Each understood the callous contempt, yet unforgiveness darkens their heart.

I’m what matters most in their world, you were a mere space in time, evoking from me every pound of flesh you could possibly grind.

I dare to be overdramatic, but true. Be gone with you my love, no more. I turned around to see that I’ve finally closed the God damned door…

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

This is how life goes it ebbs and it flows

What is right or even wrong, it’s all in a song

An angry little girl searching where she fits in
Her teenage self not so gangly yet thin

Boys attracted by her flirtatious smile and blue eyes
What they don’t see are the walls of her disguise

She learned early on how invisible she can be
Colors change with the wind and so could she

Who you need is what she will become
Transformation is how it’s all done

Submission was taught and equally expected
Relinquish all control or she would be rejected

At least then she felt a sense of belonging at last
To whom was the question quickly becoming her past

So much to think about, reflect and discern
A variety of things have helped her to learn

When does it stop, this death sentence lives on
Flip the music on, the answers are in that song

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

RIP to her former self

Human rights validated by the One Who Created us all… 🏳️‍⚧️

The struggle she faces so torn up inside
They knew from the beginning how to divide

This upheaval of emotions riddled in fear
She couldn’t find the words so her secret she held near

As she grew up to question her true value and self
She learned to conform with her feelings on the shelf

The rage burned within while she cried and she screamed
Life was getting harder than she could have dreamed

Since the day she was born it was known only to her
The truth of the matter was more than a blur

Her pain continued to grow with every passing day
Nothing ever felt quite right but how could she stray

Amongst the many battles she had to dread
None of them compare to the one inside her head

The worst part of all that rips at her heart
Is the lack of acceptance that tears her life apart

This road she travels has been worn by others shoes
They’ve trekked long before and still they fight to prove

Get over your fucking selves you judgmental, close minded, ignorant ones
Human race filled with indifferences, these are our daughters and these are our sons

Intolerance will start a war blatantly with hate
At the end of our lives who’ll be the ones standing at the gate

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

The architect of my own nightmare

Sleep the illusive one why must I chase you down
Trap and wrestle you to the ground

My heart it feels every crack, fracture and break
Isn’t it enough for my unsettled mind to escape

Every bait and switch was a work of art
You had me going right from the start

Today is just another wrecking ball sized blow
These fucking memories simmer and glow

Once twisted inside like tangled up knots
Have now become my everyday thoughts

They beckon and howl like a wolf in the night
Come play it out with me until we get it right

I saddled and rode this mystery out to the end
We lost more than the other was willing to bend

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

I miss loving…………(You)

Our love is at rest, i gave my very best… 💝

He didn’t open her door when she stood beside it, but only for a moment did she wait. She climbed in her seat there beside him, she seemed content and I thought of you…
(Opening my door as I skillfully slid into my space next to you while you pulled out my seatbelt so graciously handing it to me)

They arrived at the restaurant, again she exited the truck, meeting him around the back where they made small talk heading to their destination and
I thought of you…
(I remained still, grinning as you walked over to my side once more, opening my door, offering your hand, I emerged as we made our way)

She stood outside the door looking at the sign, he said, “Allow me” as he grabbed the handle to the door, she stepped inside and
I thought of you…
(My hand never touched a door as long as I was with you)

They were seated, the menus presented and the question, “can I start you off with a drink” and
I thought of you…
(One menu was all that was required, my drink was chosen along with my meal, handled with care)

He picked up the check not a word was exchanged except when she offered to pay her share. He reached for his wallet thanking her, then stating he’d have to give up his man card while handing it off to the server without hesitation and
I thought of you…
(One of our first dates I noticed the price and you thanked me for being thoughtful then assured me it would be alright, the cost wasn’t an issue. I relaxed, feeling special)

She thanked him for treating her to a pleasant evening and wondered what to do next so they left out the door and she casually laced her hand through the bend in his arm and
I thought of you…
(Next to you I felt taken care of, protected and safe, looked after and thought, I felt loved)

There was the truck, the one they open their own doors for, the one they return home in, to the house they reside and
I thought of you…
(Again you pull open the door, buckle me in, my hand on your knee as it slides up your thigh, a peck on the cheek, with a twinkle in my eye. I thank you for a lovely evening, for treating me like your queen, I can hardly wait to get home to show you all the love in my heart)

He flips on the TV and she checks her phone. Divided by some walls, back to their own separate interests and distractions, it’s like the spark and the magic were left somewhere far behind and
I thought of you…
(We barely made inside with our hearts beating deeply, your hands all up in my hair, the door closes quickly as clothes fall to the floor)

She makes her way to the chilly room where she lays her head. At some point he will take his place beside her all cozied up in their bed. She’s fast asleep and he’s quiet while he slips between the sheets and
I thought you…
(We walk together down the darkened hallway to find that safe, familiar place, the warmth of your body comforts me while mine stirs up all your deepest desires)

They closed the door to the wonderful night without another word, he turned off the light, she rolled over, her back turned to him, now he lies there staring at the ceiling asking himself where have you been and
I thought of you…
(Engulfed in your arms I feel your hot breath, it smells like tequila, I smile to myself being pulled in closer, I don’t want to breathe if it means loosening your grip, I exhale, we are immersed, becoming just one, please don’t let me wake. I know you feel loved and I do too) and
I thought of only you…

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

It’s done, it’s over, it’s in the past

She sits alone in her web of hope that once was her destruction yet his to spin. They never understood how she could stay, but stay she did far past the expiration day.

The song played faint in the background. Dance with me please just one time before we go. He looked through her like a ghost reaching behind as she sunk so low.

In the light of day he still posed as her lover but the reality was he was just another thief in the night roaming the streets undercover.

Her thoughts were more clear when he crossed over into her mind. Who was he now and where had he gone? The man she waited and prayed for hoping he would come to find.

It took many years of trials and even an unsavory reason. She watched and she listened, observed and blew wishes when she finally understood, it was only for one long season.

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

Though my light was dimmed

“You can’t be a beacon if your light don’t shine…”

It’s that 2am shiver that used to make me quiver

I’d drift away praying you’d stay

Morning would come and let me wonder is he done

Where was my shine once so divine

Everyday a little less love forgetting to look above

Why are you with me I never felt free

This was a nightmare dressed like a daydream

Something was true I was feeling brand new

This fire began to glow as I started to grow

There’s that spark I thought went dark

Here I will remain never again to be the same

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

Her inner turmoil

Baby girl, you possess power, strength and courage… let them ignite from within 🔥💗

Her pain, her anguish, her depletion, there is nothing I can do for her except to pray.

I can’t console her when the fire in her belly is ignited by rage.

“Can you rest, allowing your mind to slowly unwind while your body shuts itself down?”, I ask.

She stirs and mumbles something incoherent just as the rant awakens once more.

Relax is not in her vocabulary, only anxiety is the skill set she has acquired.

The uncomfortableness she feels in her own skin, it ravages her soul.

I shower just to find her gone when I appear from the steamed up bath.

A quick phone call to inquire are you alright, shall I keep on the light?

I hear my best friend’s voice in my head, “just let her vomit those eroding thoughts that haunt her”.

She doesn’t want you to fix her, just listen to her heart.

The words shoot through me like bullets loaded with her venom.

She’s not attacking me and she doesn’t mean to raise her voice, but it feels unbearable as I be still.

Wouldn’t you know, the less I speak, the calmer she becomes.

The thread began to wear to the end as did she from beginning to not quite the end.

Tomorrow might be the same or even a little bit different, who knows?

One thing is sure, this child struggles and suffers devastatingly so.

Yet no matter how near, far or out of touch, I will never leave her side because I simply love her that much.

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️TK

The pieces of me

**Kintsugi is** the Japanese art of putting broken pottery pieces back together with gold — built on the idea that in embracing flaws and imperfections, you **can** create an even stronger, more beautiful piece of art.

We break up just to make up, but the truth is I never knew I could love so deeply and be broken so completely.

At 14 he began to steal my innocence, but I didn’t understand. I learned to be invisible not to take his brand.

Manipulation was the name of the game, but it was never myself that was to blame.

Insidiously he took from me every bit of trust, but it wasn’t my fault it was his lust.

My insides eroded as I seethed with anger and rage, but still I was trapped within my cage.

I chased love like a marathon runner who lost, but I kept up the pace no matter the cost.

It was at my own expense and deprivation that drove me straight to you, but I was convinced from the start I could see right through.

Dance with me was my wish, pull me close, never let me go to grieve, but you wouldn’t give instead you chose to leave.

Our agreement established by the one called master became null and void with the final slap, but had it not, forever I would’ve been snared in your most dangerous trap.

See your marks, how they still remain, the ones you said I deserve and had to earn, but once I thought, when will a good girl such as me ever learn?

You chose this with all your reality and truth revealed, but how would you expect me to keep it all concealed?

Manipulation, coercion, control and trickery used for destruction to tear me down, but you yourself put on my special, sparkling queen’s crown.

Every night my body poured into yours, but I was merely just one of your whores.

She must be fucked in the head, but it doesn’t matter since now she is long but dead

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

This 12×12 space

Is where I feel safe I can hide from it all

Nothing can touch my heart I won’t fall

My life is flashing quickly before my eyes

It’s taken this long for me to become wise

Regrets I work hard not to have or to hold

Lessons I choose to admire as I grow old

Thank you for sharing your secrets in my ear

I’ve been holding my fondest memories very near

I always thought I could make my heart feel better

All it’s ever truly been is a broken delicate fracture

The pain I’ve worn has shown me what I need

At times it cries out as blood trickles and I bleed

When did all this time escape and pass me right by

Why do I continue to waste it and be made to cry

Because he left when I was merely a baby girl

Then again when she died leaving me in a whirl

The door has been open wide

Waiting for you to come on inside

Those who have walked through broke me more

No one else can have me as I begin to explore

Life is becoming what I make it up to be

The best thing I know is that I’m finally feeling free

✍🏼🧖🏼‍♀️

Don’t let me fall

I sat there on the couch, feet up, cuddled by the warmth of my favorite blanket watching nothing in particular on the tv, apparently it was for the background noise . The quietness outside competed with the sound of your car as you pulled into the drive. I took a semi deep breath and remained calm, both of which have been difficult to accomplish these days.

Typically you come by, with your usual demeanor, the inability to just be. I feel the energy coming at me before you enter the door, but this time you remained in your car. Curious as to what you were doing, I casually strolled past the window a time or two to take a glance, ah, you’re on the phone. This could be awhile, and it was. I took notice as I confirmed what had your attention. There was something different about you, but I’ll wait I thought. My intuition is pretty strong and my emotional intellect even higher. After all, you are my child, grown or not, I carried you in my body for 9 months. Little gets past me and even less surprises me.

Finally you made your way through the door and I was correct about your person although I wasn’t quite sure what it was, not yet. We got beyond the formalities of hi’s and hugs and found ourselves sitting now, a little awkwardly and I was eager to know why. Clearly you have a heavy heart, a burden you’re struggling to balance and even hold. You’d begin talking incessantly, this is never new to me, but there was a nervousness about you and I just listened. This has become our routine. You talk, I listen and soon it turns into a long threaded rant on nearly every topic from childhood to current time. Whew. Catch a wave pal, you’re drifting. I remain quiet, taking in what I can, paying attention to my own breath, facial expressions arms and body language. This child is working up to something heavy and deep as the words keep flying, but not much is being said.

There’s that moment when someone is trying desperately to unload something, but fear has stymied what is needing to be shared and so the conversation goes in circles and backtracks, then the trickles begin. The questions fly, do you remember when I was such and such and age and this and that happened? I’m trying to keep up, really focus on what’s being said or rather what’s being eluded to but not fully comprehending the message. I’m working on my patience. My unconditional love for this grown child pouring out from me while the fumbling keeps happening. This went on for 4 hours. God have mercy on this child and help the words just flow, please Lord.

At last the personal revelation and truth emerged from this poor child’s lips. I sit silently as I feel my shoulders relax and I grin, hoping my quiet response was loving and supportive. I nodded in agreement or maybe it was acceptance, but either way, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. At last we have a reason, the reason for all the peculiar, relentless, angry behavior that has consumed this child for nearly 25 years.

TBC…

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️

Delicate

I turned my head for just a moment and you were gone. A panic washed over me as I frantically called your name. Pushing garments of ladies apparel aside, rack by rack, I could hear a faint giggle. You were only 2 and you loved to play games like that. Unbeknownst to you, the fear that arose in my chest, as you would grow accustomed to saying, “I got this mom”, and you always have. Somehow that would be your way of assuring me you would always be okay, no matter what.

I feel so lost without you now. You got this, right? Yet that all too familiar panic has risen up and taken residence in my heart. This time I blinked and tried again, but I don’t hear the giggling in the air. I can’t see your face. I can’t find you anywhere.

Before you could form sentences or even threw your binky away, I could tell there was a mystery about you. Over time it was the little things that made you cry, often inconsolably and I couldn’t figure out why, but you knew.

Years would pass. You were growing up, trying to find the place where you belong. Never feeling liked by the kids on the school ground, not knowing how much you actually were. Was it your hyper activity that kept you moving? Sports became an outlet, baseball, soccer, dirt bikes, skateboards, bikes and scooters. Anything that would occupy your energy and free your spirit, but still, you sought after anything that would grant you acceptance. You tried basketball, even wrestling and joined the school band on drums. Then one day you asked for a bass guitar. Please mom. Happy birthday sweetie. You joined brothers, forming a band, the 3 of you, so young and talented, you were more than good, you were amazing.

Sports and all “that” began to fall away. You’d found this passion deep inside playing bass. Self taught, you wouldn’t allow me to “waste money on lessons when you could teach yourself” and you did. Yet all those years I’d watch you on stage, self conscious and insecure, as if you were still searching for that place of belonging, because you were.

Your pain continued to haunt you. I couldn’t read it, put my finger on it, then he left and you were devastated. The dad you tried so hard to please, to be like and feel included by. This was a whole new level of despair while I was desperately working to be all I could for you 3, but somehow I saw it in your heart, for you this grief of loss was affecting you in some other way. It was different and deeper.

That same 2 year old resides within, still inconsolable, try as I may. “I love you” are all the words I have, with everything I know. Life was harder back then, but we were gaining everyday as we made our way through, just us 4.

We got this, right? Wrong… “We” crumbled. My turn. You’re gone. Here I sit. Motionless. Breathless. Helpless. Guilt. Hands in the air. Heart splitting in 2. Inconsolable. I’m still searching for that place of belonging, just for you.

✍🏼🧝🏻‍♀️