The days hit hard and heavy, and the memories come on strong. God took you before I was ready, as if I could ever prepare for you being gone. Under your protection, I could always… More
Keep Showing Up!
I’ve been out of sync the last couple of times at the gym. Today I was filled with self doubt.
I looked in the mirror and saw everything wrong with me from the back boobs to my dry legs.
I think I even said to myself, “You are 50! What the hell are you doing!?!”
Nonetheless, I add 125 to the bar and decided to go for a personal best today.
You guys, not every day is going to be your friend. And not every thought is going to be pleasant. But you have to just keep showing up!
#strongnotskinny
Victimville
Without going into much history, I’ll say that there was a dark period in my life, much like you’ve probably been through as well.
Mine was a nasty divorce. Friends chose sides, and the losses were tough. I became angry and bitter. I felt hopeless. And I was seriously depressed.
One day during my storm, I started going to the gym. And over time I noticed my depression lessened. My confidence resurfaced. And a new me evolved.
While learning to do squats with weights I never thought I could lift, I was also learning to push through my heals and dig down deep into my gut to overcome my anger, bitterness and hurts. It’s become the one thing I could always control when the world around me was spiraling out of control: My potential.
I control whether or not I can get through one more rep or not. And the feeling when I do it is nothing less than miraculous.
So eventually I got off the express lane headed to Victimville and changed my course.
The past couple of weeks I’ve had a chance to reflect on where I was and where I am now.
And where I am now is happy and at peace! But my friends, I do have to work for it – mentally and physically – every single day.
Sure I go through times where I convince myself not to go to the gym that day. And you bet, sometimes that one day turns into five or ten.
My friends, I pay for it! My thinking isn’t as sharp. My spirits are a little more downtrodden. And I feel like I am losing rather than gaining.
You see, doing something, (anything) even if it’s just 20-30 minutes is better than doing nothing.
When I commit to my workouts, I know I am moving forward instead of taking steps backwards.
So the principles of lifting have helped me lift weights off my shoulders that are not seen with the eye.
I push though my heels.
I dig down deep into my gut.
And I move forward not backwards.
It’s helped me to forgive, move past, let go and understand others and their struggles a little better. What’s more, it’s helped me smile and shine (again).
Little did I know that fitness saves the soul! And it’s saved mine.
I hope you can also get off the express lane to dismal distress to let it save you.
Like Emily
Dead when I’m discovered,
too late to know me then,
if not for these thoughts
that kept falling from my head
and landing on a pen.
Mistaken mostly in my time,
misunderstood when given no rhyme,
haunted by the what ifs and whys
of something buzzing as I die.
Eccentric at best,
old maid at worst,
rolling over in my grave
when they find my curse
and dissect my verse.
Funny, the only world I ever understood
was the one I created in my head.
These Days
I linger mostly somewhere
between what I want,
what I don’t want,
and not knowing what I want.
Confused by my tears,
I’m left exhausted
and internally withdrawn
from the pain I cannot
seem to grab hold of,
challenge and conquer.
I swallow the rising
storm, hoping
no one sees the panic
in my eyes, crying
“I am lost on this
path to nowhere,
somewhere,
anywhere.”
Incensed by my inability
to touch my reality,
make sense of it
and feel congruent,
I close my doors,
my blinds, my eyes,
only to take a peek,
when I feel it’s safe.
I shake myself as
I feel my limbs
going to sleep,
hating that tingling,
(perhaps numb is better),
knowing, however,
I cannot stand the
immobility of rest.
So these days
I giggle because the
insanity tickles;
I cry because the
losses hurt; and
I fight because the
living feels like dying.
This song I sing will mean many things. So if you find a way to feel, I’ll give to you my words, for you to hide or steal – just increments of me passed on and passed away ‘til that moment you might see all I gave was all I had today.
Both lost to the misery we choose, we sink deeper among the demons that make us hate to feel and help us lose. I’ve dipped my feet in water so cold it burns. And kissed the fruit that sours and turns. I’ve shone in the dark and faded with the light. I’ve mended my wounds and climbed to new heights. And still the moon glistens, and the sun tingles my skin. So I know my living just might not be a dying sin.
I’m here, but I’m gone. My words are all I have left to whisper or scream or not speak at all. I’ll just place them here. And make my
entrance or take my fall.
Numb
I’ve dealt with negativity all week. It makes my head hurt. I cut a friend loose and finally accepted the betrayal of the only person who could hurt me. It makes my stomach turn. It makes me mad at myself. It makes my arches ache.
So I’ve decide to become addicted. The way I have it figured – I only really have maybe 30 years left. My kids will be grown, and I’ll be retired. Why not live out those years homeless, giving BJs in some alley for my next fix and thinking my thoughts are poetry.
But numb. I wanna know numb.
Group Text
I just want out!
Let me out.
I can’t take the talk,
the mindless conversation,
the getting ignored.
So just let me go.
Let me let go
of the hope that
I belong, and that
I’m someone who matters
among the crowd.
A Poem from Susan
I keep thinking you are going to be the person I thought you were. But you aren’t.
When Time Runs Out
Priorities get slanted as I sit on the sidelines while you search for something more.
(Somehow I’ve lost myself).
And I watch you grow more restless as you look everywhere but here.
(I never thought this would be us).
Memories get lost at the sight of something new, and when time runs out, there’s just nothing more I can do.
(I know it’s over).
Fingerprints
Like fingerprints on
windows forgotten or
left to remember, your
existence lingers,
clinging to me as
if still a newborn
warm upon my chest.
I dare not wipe away
these sacred stains
within my lifeline,
your presence, your
mark on this world,
your fingerprints
clutching my soul.
Lovely reminders etched
in glass to forever mark
those who came and
those who passed.
Happy 18th, baby girl!
Love, Mom
Untitled
And see just like that it’s gone – a fleeting thought, a whisper, the twilight and the dawn. In that moment before waking and in the shadows of sleep, were you truly there beside me or somewhere beyond my reach?
Nothing Better to Do
Truth is I wouldn’t be waiting on you
if I had something better to do.
This town is bringing me down,
and too many losers keep coming around.
So I wait around on you,
’cause I got nothing better to do.
Truth is you’re only in my mind.
The man you are isn’t the man my heart defines.
They say you love who you know they can be
but fail to see what the rest of the world sees.
So here I am drinking sweet wine,
trying to figure out if you’re worth my time.
I fill another glass, say a toast to you,
’cause I got nothing better to do.
