| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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It aches I thought I was free and not all this angsty bullshit But here I am I sit in a different place but the pain is so tight and clear and distinct I don’t blame the circumstances but I still long for the circumstances to save me Like someone could take away this ache What is it I am here I witness Your longing for one thing, for other So much figuring and justifying and trying to reconcile in my head There is nothing to reconcile What is the illusion And thinking if I could just see the illusion I could solve it And if he would just… just, it would all be fixed. But it won’t. There is nothing to fix. My heart is broken before it can be broken It makes it good for compassion Sweetness we are all here Everyone is loving to the utmost It is a song of perfection and nothing, just for me Let go |
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so juicy. |
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that wreath on the door, books to the left stairs, slivers cds, tv, mirror, gilt chair, 9 flower pictures drum table w/ an elephant blue & ? chair w/ripped arms the beams in the ceiling 2/r table with colonial looking chairs 2 outrageous candle holders, huge mirror ugly console table coat rack, cigarette table with pomegranate coat closet, steps crazy hutch with every mustard & oil stove&pots&pasta cold medicine, tiffany silver, sleeves of dishes too many wine glasses too much wine the thai restaurant folded napkins coconut soup, snow, wine store orchid 7-eleven, girl w/ red hair, magazines sevens, wine, the 71 year old woman with the long grey coat the too expensive Italian walking up and down the hill Ruah, the taxi the book the bookstore that small room, two small windows children's feet the sound of people walking by closets, federal mirror, your suitcase clothes over the chair in the corner sheets with dots library & desk in that space the altar that bathroom my toothbrush Ambrose Bierce your face half dark my ring on your small finger |
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mommy never leaves you. what is wrong with telling your children you'll never leave them? dying isn't the same as leaving, though maybe it is to a three year old? if i die tomorrow will my daughter be ruined because i died or because i told her i would never leave her and then i died? if i die tomorrow the possibility exists that she'll be just fine. if i live to be 90 years old the possibility exists that my daughter could be ruined by some other experience. mommy never leaves you. mommy always comes back. those words are very reassuring to my anxious little girl, so can someone PLEASE PLEASE tell me, why is it wrong to say that to a child? |
Most statements aren't lies, they have unspoken bits. Maybe because they would not be understood, or maybe because of some fantastic (goddamn it, god-awful,) lesson we will get to learn. Please say you'll never leave me. |
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i am quickly approaching psychic hysteria on this subject. and yes, most communication between parents and young children has unspoken bits. if you speak every bit of it, they get lost in the words. at least mine do. they seem to comprehend better when communication is simple. noun adjective/adverb verb. OF COURSE there is a difference between being left and being separated from one another for a period of time. i'm not sure if those concepts can be differentiated for a 3.5 year old. if they can, i wonder for how long a 3.5 year old can be temporarily separated from her mother without feeling left. abandoned. and what i'm talking about isn't trying to prevent my child from feeling abandoned, physically or emotionally. i'm simply trying give her a mantra, something soothing, for when she's afraid and i'm not there for one reason or another. when she's scared i want to her know to the best of her ability, or to know in her heart, that even if i'm not there physically to comfort her, i will be there for her eventually. physically and emotionally. it seems like everything you do as a parent that your instinct tells you is the right thing, someone else is there to tell you that it will eventually ruin your kid and/or your relationship with your kid. there's no doubt that i'll end up doing something hurtful to my kids. i'm human, i'm not perfect. all parents have good and bad days, and we're all doing the best we can. but do not tell me what i should and shouldn't say to my child, especially when it feels right for both of us. i can't control her fears. i can only remind her that one comfort she can always rely on is that mommy never leaves you. mommy always comes back. in ten more years i'll be reaching psychic hysteria about the possibility of some boy coercing her into giving him a blowjob in the back of the school bus, and all this abandonment shit will seem completely banal. oh i can't wait! |
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heather, i will never leave you. |
Who told you what you should and shouldn't say? Everyone is doing their best, just stay open. |
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a pediatric occupational therapist. and thanks. i feel better already. just needed to write about it. long live the boards. robo-bee just ended. snack time! |
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"The disaster-tolerant approach means that you can focus on the upside of risk instead of obsessing about the worst possible outcome. And once you do that, the upside is more likely to occur." -- Godin |
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Holding down. I don’t know how to react much like I don’t know how to react to anything. This space right in front of me is a dog pulling against a rope. Brings tears to my eyes. And I still have no idea why. And why I’ve had it before. And why it goes. The bone slips away as if it had never been there, and what is that about. Sehnsucht Who can take the place and how can others take the place, but they do. And one day this chapter will be erased like all the others. With no connection, like all the others Why am I trying to find importance in this? Or maybe I am trying to gather up and see the importance I know. You or we tried to avoid it but it slipped in. Probably while we were laughing. You were there under there. Why does it feel like it wasn’t enough. I wrote this last October. I feel strange that I have no idea what it is about, though I clearly write with that intention. Maybe I forgot that I copied it. Plagiarism in my own computer. |