Here’s Your Hat, What’s Your Hurry

Good-by, March. I’m not sorry to see you go, but you know that already, don’t you? I don’t know why you and I can’t get along. Maybe we’ll call a truce one of these years and leave each other in peace. I’d like that. Wouldn’t you?

The month is ending with another migraine. Windy, unsettled weather dances with wacky, unsettled hormones. I lie on the couch with the shades pulled tight against the sun, hoping tomorrow will be better. Hoping tomorrow I’ll be better.

I’ve had a recurring image in my dreams lately: I need to change my clothes, but can’t get out of whatever I’m wearing. After the third time in one week that this popped up, I realized that my dream-brain was saying I’m struggling to change. What I’m wearing is too tight, too restrictive, and no longer suitable for what comes next. It’s time to change, but I’m having trouble making it happen.

I’ve shrunk my life down to fit tightly around me. Small and restrictive feels safe, but it’s also lonely and somewhat boring. If I want my life to feel different, I’ll need to face the uncomfortable feelings that come with change. That thought is enough to send me back into the safety of the small. My dream-brain does a better job of handling it than my waking-brain. I’m just not sure the reward is worth the effort. Frankly, I’m not sure the effort results in a reward. What if things get worse? or stay the same?

Survival was my only goal in March. Make it through in one piece. I did that. Maybe April will bring fewer migraines and a lighter mood. Maybe the struggle will ease, and I’ll finally succeed in making real change.

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Lost in Patterns and Reflections

WHICH ME

which me am i
the dream? the dreamer?
smiling at the camera
or hiding my face
wearing the weight
of too many years
sad stories and broken hearts

am i the time-keeper?
the game-master?
or just another pawn
the lover? the scold?
all me, the camera too
captor and captured
depending on your point of view

which me am i
when you say you love me
and who answers
for all of us
this hologram shattered
but me here in every piece
life repeating, endless branching

am i the fractured self
self-similar? still whole?
a fractal in a hologram
i’ll never understand the math

Before the Clouds Moved In

FULL SPRING MOON

I thought I knew longing,
Then I watched the full moon
Spill her secrets into the sea,

Rising above the waves alone,
Ignored by narcissistic stars,
Full of themselves, while she

Full of us, struggled to rise.
I watched as she poured out
The gathered dreams, the hopes

So close to birth, and me
Helpless on shore, so far
From water and wave

Thought I knew longing,
Until that moon, so full,
Poured hope into the waves.

Take me with you on your
Journey. Let my arms gather
With you these dreams. Let

Me hold, as you do, the hopes
Of a weary world, while the
Stars shine bright for no one.

Just Another Tuesday

SAVE ME

save me from this life
from thoughts of death
from lack of love
and loss

save me from my fears
from thoughts of hate
from lack of hope
and tears

save me from my dreams
from thoughts of pain
from lack of joy
and peace

save me from myself
from thoughts of you
from lack of us
and grief

Spring Break?

I’m not as well as I thought I was. I know this because I’m irrationally angry at the cat. She’s staring at me, begging for food, though she’s already been fed more than enough this morning. I’m clenching my teeth. Angry, angry, angry. Wanting to yell at the cat. When I’m well, I know better. She overeats, so to keep her weight in check, we have to ignore the begging. It’s routine. Nothing to be angry about. My brain knows this, but isn’t cooperating today. It’s been stressed lately.

It started last Monday. A mild sore throat rapidly turned into a raging head cold. By Wednesday, a migraine crawled into bed with us, not displacing the cold. No, it just climbed on top, wrapped it’s horrid arms around us, and held on tight. Thursday, nausea decided to join the party. Friday morning, what little of me remained despaired of ever feeling well again.

I was surprised to wake Saturday morning with no pain. Throat, head, and stomach all felt fine again. I was still coughing and sneezing, still needed a pile of tissues, but something had shifted. My mind was clear again, even though my sinuses weren’t. I couldn’t wait to get out of the house into sunshine and fresh air. Running errands suddenly seemed like the best thing ever. It felt odd, though, that I had gone to bed Friday night certain that nothing would ever matter again, only to wake with none of those thoughts in my head. It felt like I had a bout of viral depression thrown in with everything else.

This morning I’m struggling a bit again. I pushed myself yesterday to clean the house, to make up for losing a week, and now I’m tired. I feel it in my brain. My emotions are unstable, and I’m struggling to write coherently. It’s bothering me that a spring cold took me down so completely. Yes, the migraine was a big factor, but I blame the cold. It started the whole cascade. I’m still feeling the effects.

I’ve decided I’m going to try to be nice to myself today. Take a break from beating myself up about not writing as much as I should be, not blogging as consistently as I did last year, not succeeding in my own life. I’ll let the day unfold however it wants. Nap if I need to. Clean more if I feel like it. Write if I can. Along the way, I’ll be trying to make sense of how I felt last week, how viral the depression felt, how quickly it lifted with the other symptoms. I’ll rest. Recover fully. Maybe even feed the cat.