A rhyming poem about realizing my own value, and letting go of those who don’t value me.
I hear the thoughts
In my head
Circling round and round.
No one likes you.
No one cares.
Tears roll without sound.
Stop being dramatic
I tell myself
But the evidence abounds.
When I pay the bill
They find the time
Their schedules magically free.
But calendars fill
And time dries up
When the only incentive is me.
I’m giving up
because I refuse
to beg on bended knee.
I’m there for you.
I give my time.
I give my heart and soul.
But when I ask
For a little back
Your time is now precious as gold.
I’ve played my hand
and you’ve played yours,
I think it’s time we fold.
You’re being selfish,
I tell myself
As I sit at home and cry.
But the more I say it
The angrier I get,
Because it’s a giant fucking lie.
I’m done with sorrow.
I’m done with tears.
It’s time I said goodbye.
I truly enjoyed
the time we had
but it’s coming to an end.
It takes more
than my wishful thinking
and rifts you never cared to mend
to earn the right
and the honor
of being called my friend.
For the record, I’d like to reassure everyone I am okay… I only finished this up today. I was having a bit of a pity-party when I began writing this poem, but by the time I finished it today, I had come to the startling realization that I’ve been holding on to quite a few ‘friends’ who let me go a long time past, I just wasn’t willing or able to accept it because I wasn’t ready, and I’d done nothing wrong. This was a purging of sorts.
I’ve been pondering friendship lately. Why I choose the people I choose as my friends, why I continue to call them ‘friends’ when they obviously don’t consider me to be a very important fixture in their lives…
…and I realize that for many years, I did the same, and it wasn’t because I didn’t care for them, but because I either didn’t know how, or that I was lost in my own bubble. It’s easy to get caught up in your day to day busy-ness that we forget to keep in touch with the people who matter to us, or to stay silent out of fear of rejection.
If you have someone you care about, but haven’t given them the attention that the level of your affection would indicate they deserve… call them. Text them. Email them. Hell… tag them on Facebook, Twitter or Instagram. Let them know they cross your mind.
Today, I called my dad. Of all the people I love, he is probably the most un-aware of my feelings, due to familial habits of interaction.
Who will you reach out to?
Or perhaps it’s just my brain…
Have you ever had something on the calendar that you forgot about, and when you were reminded of it, even though it’s something you know you want to do, still feel less than… enthusiastic about it?
What person needs to be reminded of why they want to hang out with their friends?
Why does unexpected change disturb me so much?
Why do I have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, from my house to go have fun, only to have a blast and not want to leave once I’m actually there?
What’s causing all this mulish anxiety?
Regardless, I’ll be out having fun this weekend, even if it kills me. 😛
I’m so appreciative that I am flexible enough to bend or break at my own whim. There’s freedom in knowing that ultimately, the choice is mine.
It’s difficult, at first, when there’s no one left to blame but yourself; when you shoulder the responsibility of how you feel, when you stop giving the power of your experience to others through blame. But the difficulty will fade quickly if you allow yourself to dwell on the thrill and excitement of being The One With Whom The Buck Stops.
There’s a little discomfort when you realize that it wasn’t your parents, after all. It wasn’t your bosses or your teachers or your spouse or your kids… it was you, me, ourselves, all along.
Granted, when we’re kids, our parents are (or should be) responsible for us, but there comes a time when, once we’ve learned this information, or once we become adults in our own right, the burden shifts from them to us. That can be a bitter pill to swallow, when you don’t figure this shit out until you’ve reached your mid-30’s!
But I know folks in their 60’s who haven’t figured it out yet, so I’m not upset. I’m grateful to have been blessed with (hopefully) many years of rectifying my mindset, and playing the game as it was meant to be played.
Namaste & Blessed be, friends!
I’m wearing a shirt I bought about two years ago and took the tags off of last Friday. It’s buttoned closed, and I feel good.
Have I mentioned yet how awesome I feel?
I feel great. And I’m not sorry for it. I’m not sorry that I feel amazing. I’m not sorry to tell you that I’ve lost 10 pounds (I believe that’s ‘nearly a stone’ across the pond) in the past few weeks without trying. I’m not sorry to say that I have a husband that is so absolutely amazing that I sometimes can’t believe he’s human. Really. It’s just not normal to be that zen in your love for someone… is it?
He sees me at my absolute worst and doesn’t love me ‘in spite of it’… he just loves me. He doesn’t stand there thinking how horrible I’m being, he’s thinking ‘how can I help the woman I love, who is so obviously hurting?‘. It’s just not normal, I tell you… the man is my friggin’ rock.
I’m not sorry to shout to the rooftops that I’m happy. I’m thrilled beyond measure with my life. I’m not sorry that I dislike listening to people complain these days. I’m not sorry that one minute I’m annoyed, and the next minute I’ve figured out how to love you for whatever you’re doing or did, and love myself for not liking whatever you did or didn’t do.
I’m not sorry that I make people acutely aware of their own alignment with their Higher Self, or lack thereof. I’m not sorry that I sometimes don’t recognize my own inconsistencies, but see yours clearly. I’m not sorry that I am sometimes so unaware of my state of misalignment that I get angry when others point it out, that I sometimes take a little longer to see the truth in another’s observations.
This post was longer, but there was an obvious energy shift (as you can see, I was still feeling a bit defiant while writing this. It was written the same day as my previous post over on SS). What I chose to do was to split the posts into two, because they are so obviously written from two different frequencies!
There’s something very satisfying about this little series. I think I enjoy the freedom of it. I don’t feel locked into one post for some indeterminate length of time. Sometimes it’s hard to stay in the flow and stay coherent for that length of time.
I think the quick jump in and out lets me decide to stay in focus for a while, if I so desire, or to skip around, changing topics often.
I write these in clusters, and this is about the third cluster. As of this writing, no one has complained about my writing style, so I presume those who read this enjoy it. 😉
I’m excited. Life is about to crank up for me. I can feel it.
I’ve seen myself doing all kinds of things. I’ve seen myself acting, I’ve seen myself as a famous singer… and then I’ve allowed myself to become terrorized at the thought of being up on stage, in front of all those people…
Suddenly, I don’t have that good of a voice, not really. And I’m too fat to be an actress (despite the abundance of heavy actresses in Hollywood today) or not pretty enough (hello? I’ve seen some of those ‘candid’ photos of the Hollywood elite… they’re just like me. They have zits and bad hair days, too.
All my life, I’ve been claiming to be looking for passion, but really, I’ve been looking for something that excites me more than it terrifies me. I’ve looked for reasons why I can’t do the things I have an interest in, and lo and behold, I find one. Every. Single. Time.
I kill my passion with practicality, before it ever has a chance to take root.