My pain was fruitful
An agile sickness reborn
Change isn’t pretty
Agile: A Haiku
Tag: personal
Saintly Sinner
Saintly.
We use that term when we speak of good deed doers, animal rescuers and people who keep their cool in Wal-Mart. But what about the saintly sinner? You know, humans that want to beat the ever living shit out of that asshole in Wal-Mart or impale the driver doing 35 in a 55 (this happened to me on my way to work today). Then maybe played the scenario out in vivid detail, and thought, “Is this jerk really worth ten years in prison with a seven-foot cellmate named Tiny?”
Saintly sinners are people just like you and me. They are not good deed doers per say, but they aren’t rotten bastards either. Saintly sinners are average people who go about their day not necessarily keeping tabs of all the good and bad shit they have done, but know that being a decent human – or at least trying like hell – can be a full-time job all its own in this day and age.
Saintly sinners are anti-heroes.
You know, those ten-dimensional characters like John McClaine in Die Hard or Snake Plissken in Escape From New York. Sure they’re mouthy, dirty bad boys who ventured onto the left-hand path, but we love them despite their sinner ways; they’re our angels of redemption.
On the flip side of that, some people pretend to be saintly but are really demon spawn at a sickening level. The technical term for that person is the sociopathic narcissist, and though I have dealt with one version or the other in my life, the evilest combination of the two was my ex-mother-in-law. She would gorge herself on the pain of others. Some people call them emotional vampires, others call them toxic, but I just wound up calling her a crazy b***h. The woman wasn’t happy unless she was witnessing/talking about/causing someone’s pain.
I won’t go into it because she isn’t worth the weight of her memory, but she is included in my memoir. Sometimes we need to speak the devil’s name so we can put her in her proper place.
Saintly is the way
The sinners love to sleep
They gorge on your demons
With gentle little dreams
Their thoughts heavily fasten
To all that’s good and true
Then rip it from your soul
Like gorging sinners do
So wrap your dreams up tight
In a silky woven ball
Wash them in starlight
And let them gently fall
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/gorge/
*I had the wrong prompt. This post may be a lame attempt at recovery, but I had to give it a shot!
Relocate or Rearrange
There is a fresh feeling in starting over. Shucking the dead weight of the past can invigorate and inspire.
Despite moving many times into new places, or new neighborhoods and towns, it took me a while to understand that relocating didn’t change anything for me. Sometimes, it made things worse.
I finally realized that no matter where I went, there I was. Sure, things were good for a while. However, no matter how many times I paint over the bloodstain on the wall – it may be covered – it is still there. Just like my past. I didn’t learn until doing step work that holding onto all that shit was killing me and causing me to self-sabotage.
Dealing with those ugly parts properly so I didn’t have to keep moving when things got icky and uncomfortable was the key. Since I have unlocked that door, I have dealt with almost all of it that could be dealt with accordingly. Some things cannot be closed or handled. Maybe people die and so we’re left with the wreckage of our past. Sometimes, trying to amend a situation would make things worse for that person. So there are other ways to handle it. Maybe mail a letter to a bogus address with no return address. Maybe write it out and burn it, rip it up and throw it in the stream after you’ve read your letter aloud to the universe.
However it can be done, sometimes it is a necessary evil that when complete, feels like twelve pounds of dead weight had been lifted off your mind.
The last two times I have moved was not to run away from the past but to continue to build my life and my future with my husband and cat. My kids are grown now and have started lives for themselves.
It’s always okay to visit the past, just be sure not to move back there.
Blessed be.
The Zoo
Once upon a time
When I was quite little
My mother took me to the zoo
Among bark, cold and brittle
We had to bundle up
For the air was quite chilly
We were off on an adventure
None of this seemed silly
The parking lot was packed with cars
As people filed through the turnstile
When I made it to the other side
My face and eyes did smile
There were critters everywhere
Some furry and big; some scaly and small
I stopped and stood for a time
When I approached the best one of all
I noticed it lying in the brush
Its fur was spotted in many spots
I heard it meow instead of roar
It was a beautiful ocelot.
