It's Personal

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A tear drops from my eyes onto this sheet of paper

Populating the lines full of my failures

In words held back for a lifetime

I'll try to explain, try to define 

The childhood that sent me down the wrong path

Relentlessly teased, being called fat

Publicly ridiculed unmercifully in front of my peers

Changed me internally

I internalized that one boy’s hate

Believing worth was defined by weight 

Damage I can't seem to shake

Controls all my choices

I hear the internal voices

Telling me to hide

Avoid the public eye

Prevent the possibility of any embarrassment

Subject myself to imprisonment

Stay shy, in order to stay safe

Remain a slave to these thoughts of how I should behave

How I should live my life quietly

Avoid any and all vulnerability

It's destroyed me inside

Always watching from the sidelines

If I could just go back set things straight

I could change my life, change my fate

I'd go back to the city streets of Trenton

Around the age of seven

That would be my rebirth

A chance to prevent all the hurt

I'd ask to be pulled from that class

Take Tommy out of my life's equation

No longer be hindered, or inclined to set personal limitations 

I'd take back those kisses I had given 

I would no longer need a boy’s attention to validate my reflection

I could redesign a lifetime of mistakes

I know I could prevent that rape

Take with me my virginity to eighth grade 

I could change a series of events I regret

I bet I could have a different life

Be someone's wife 

Not a widow of man who went loco

Suicide with a knife

Enduring a situation that exceeded scary

Making my family that weeks top story

My house wouldn't be the one that everyone knows

But my writing would probably be dull

That's if I ever started to write at all

Each pathetic piece I began to express in poetry at age forty

I wrote out my realities

Escaped through some fantasies

It gave me the voice I never had

Maybe I should have no regrets

Maybe I should just feel blessed to have been lead down this path

11/14/2015

The nagging feeling of loss is present

In my empty eyes it's apparent

This broken girl, couldn't be more transparent

All I feel on the inside, seen on the outside

My struggles difficult to hide

I wear layers of self-hate in the form of weight

Hurts to watch the world revolve around me 

As I stand completely still, empty and unfulfilled

Lack of experience, despite my age

Cause I've always been disengaged 

Have few travels to mark on the map

But I made the decisions that carved that path

I have been the one holding myself back

Chasing boys that never could change

Leaving myself always shortchanged

In debt, both love and money

Trying to get them to want me

Not ever feeling like I was deserving

Always thinking I had to earn it

Be the girl who goes the extra mile

Give them a reason to smile

Pay them for the attention they would give

Be the one who gave the gifts

It’s supposed to be better to give than receive

It hurt to always fill the stockings

Do all the shopping

Have the kids ask why mine was always empty

Friends Christmas morning posts I would envy

Fuck all of you and your happy families

Fuck your posts with your presents from your husband

Return to work after the holiday break

Just to be interrogated 

"So what did he get you for Christmas?"

I dreaded having to discuss this

"So he didn't take the kids to get you something?"

Subjected to all the questioning

Explaining how he has no money because he can't stop gambling

Here comes more of the asking

"Why don't you just leave him?"

Where would I be going?

Three kids and a dog to relocate, on an administrative assistant's salary?

I had few choices and leaving could have been potentially deadly

I had been with him long enough to know things would end badly

So I stayed and rode the violent waves

Until he finally broke and caved

Took his own life without harming me

Only mentally

I thought all my struggles would just miraculously go away

But I'm still sad 

and just as empty

12/17/2015

I guess I fight back tears more often than I realize

I think sometimes it’s so every day I fail to even recognize

But eventually I see the thought pattern 

I start to see what happens

Grocery stores should be free of torment 

Well one would think

But it begins with meat selection

Sudden rumblings of the questions

The ones that speak to me inside my head

“Do you think there will ever be someone to cook for? You’re really good at it. It’s a shame you don’t have someone to feed. Do you even want someone?” 

I move on

Bread selection, and again questions

“Who is going to eat a whole loaf of bread? The kids aren’t going to, but I bet if you had someone you would need two”

And so it goes aisle to aisle

The questions are there

Soft and so subtle

Nothing I can’t handle 

I pay and think how it would be nice if someone was there to help with the bags when I get home

But I’m strong; I’ve been doing this alone

As I’m heading for the exit, I pass the floral section

I’m tempted

I always stare and contemplate

I hesitate

I want them. Should I buy them?

No one is going to buy them for me

And I really want them

What i'm saying is

I really want someone to WANT to give them to ME

Why am I the only person taking care of me (barely)? 

Why am I even considering this purchase?

And I feel it, the nervous 

The heat in my ears 

Now the beginning of tears 

So I bite the inside of my cheek, hold then release 

I’m exiting the store, allowing only one to break free

Not enough to run, 

Just making it slightly harder to see

I breathe

And I try to forget

I try to ignore that it even happened

I reprimand myself

“You’re so stupid. Why do you do it? Why do you think? Shut these thoughts off. They are ridiculous, get over it”

And I do

I go home flowerless

Again

I probably should have just bought them

I really wanted them

Something that would have made me feel better

Maybe I should start showing myself I matter.

11/14/2017

I'm alive, I only know because I hurt

Unearthed feelings that were buried 

That I kept at bay while married

Marriage was my safeguard

Kept me confined inside the gates of my own backyard

Never dared to play in someone else's greener grass

Or revisit the behaviors of an attention-starved teenager's past

Presented myself as a good girl and a good wife 

One who had survived

Rose above being the school's whore

Made a family, became something more

Followed rules and walked the straight and narrow

Never minded wearing blinders

Blocking out what was falling apart, the reminders

The indications I had made a huge mistake

Love was never present, all of it was fake

I am fake, dawn to dusk, each moment I am awake

I fake and I pretend, mimic and continuously consent

I keep the peace by adapting to my surroundings 

Molding my being, becoming the chameleon

But I knew nothing of me, and when outside the gates of a wife

Set free to start a new life

I spiraled out of control

I had lost my role

What I thought I was, my camouflage

Desperate to find a purpose, I acted on urges

Urges I had contained

Now I'm ashamed

Not so much of my behavior

More so of the fact that to myself

I was still a stranger. 

06/02/2017

Girl in the dark 

Digging through cassettes

True mix tapes 

From late 80's early 90's

She wants to dance

By herself

With herself

Mirrors all around

It's what she does 

It makes her who she is

It's how she deals with being

Unhappy, lonely, anxious

Reflection of happiness

Staring back 

Movements that speak

Of sex, intimacy, courting

But for her eyes only

Pretty panties, lace bras

Stiletto heels, lips glossed

Mint flavored so she can

Taste it with her own tongue

She has an affair with the reflection

It's intense almost an obsession

This allows her to be herself

Even if it's only when she's alone

It's how she finds the drive to 

Push through the un-pleasantries of

Being a grown up with responsibilities 

When all she really wants to do is spend her life in clubs on dance floors with flashing lights

Under disco balls 

Basement music rooms with mirrored walls will have to do

Late night solo dance parties

Are all she has left with crates of vinyl and buckets of cassettes from her past

06/04/2014

Oh, hi anxiety, there you are again

It's only been what? A few minutes old friend 

Insides are like ice, I'm cracking under stress

Everything's tense

I'm uncomfortable with any confrontation 

and the frightened girl awakens

Scrambling for coping mechanisms 

Searching out solutions

Requiring resolutions

Wanting quieting conclusions

I'm too in tune to this

My environment

and all it's emotional turbulence 

Disturbances in my peace

Chaos, then my cortisol release

Please don't be angry

even if it's not with me

Flooded with feelings I am somehow guilty 

and should fix things immediately 

I am my grandmother's temperament 

Submit and bend 

Keep everyone content, deflect from all arguments

She'd stop his rage before her hair was pulled

Make sure his temper's cooled

Prevent this dinner table violence

A regular and what I believed normal occurrence 

Learned how to diffuse a man

or take the beating if all my efforts failed

My mom set the same example

and my daughters saw me handle

I hope they've learned from a history of mistakes 

But studies show, they will just do the same

12/31/2016

 I needed relief, I needed release, I needed to let go of all that was inside, I needed to make words cry, cause my eyes were not capable without writing the hurt goes untraceable, I smile at work and in front of the kids, but when I put it on paper that's where sorrow lives, the words are what reveal the truth, the root of who I am and where I began, how I got where I am and where I will stay because of the dangerous games that I play, I learned over the years that I love to feel hurt, and it's fucking absurd, I am an actress seeking roles as a victim, look for the worst case scenario, I'll take that position, the one where I know there will be tragedy and pain, I must be insane or so goddamn broken to prefer wounds over scars that I continue to reopen. I refuse to let anything heal knowing in order to do so, I'd have to deal, and that pain...that's the pain that is too real, those are the places I don't want to go and the feelings I don't want to feel.  

11/13/2014

I sat inside the shadows 

and failed to grow

Attached roots to the depression I discovered in the depths below

Sinking inside myself, I had hit the bottom

Then it happened, I found writing

My voice was heard, but could remain silent 

My presence blossomed

Full spectrum of emotions were opened

Speak my mind, and be closed off at the same damn time

Hide inside this character I designed

One I could control and define

Defies all aspects of my personality 

While encompassing what's secretly inside of me

Confined, but I’m free 

Editing what I let everyone see 

Yet still, I am able to create the truer image of me

04/14/2016

Don't you see how I jump when a door slams? Do you see how I flinch to a raised hand? Do you get that I back down to a loud voice? 

My body reacts...I have no choice.

Conditioned to expect the worst.

Conditioned to prepare for impact.

Conditioned to be silenced.

My nerves are shot

My wires hot

Ok? I am not.

I short circuit under stress

I am always in distress

All I want is a soft caress

Safe hands and words to match

These defects need a patch 

This is why I always detach

I fall in love quickly 

and out even faster

Psychologically a disaster

07/05/2015

These moms all have husbands

I can't help but fear they will ask about mine

"So, are you divorced?"

Clearly there's no ring, so they either think that 

Or I'm just another white girl who got pregnant by a black guy that didn't stick around

That this is one of those baby daddy situations 

These are upper middle class, happy soccer mom, book club types and wouldn't know about such drama

So what will make me look worse to them 

That scenario or the truth?

I had a husband, one father to all three of my kids, who was there at PTA meetings and dance recitals and graduations

Who washed dishes and did laundry

Loved us whole heartedly, but suffered with depression and an addiction to gambling that destroyed us all 

So he took his own life in front of me in the most horrifically 

violent way he could

So which makes me look worse?

Widow of a monster or 

White trash baby maker

I can't win here, my bleached blonde hair, yoga pants and flip-flops scream I am not one of them

But they smile and they engage me in small talk and I wait

I wait for the question and contemplate their reaction 

The one where I can see it on their face 

That look of…

"I never should have asked, now this is uncomfortable"

Ladies, it was uncomfortable long before you asked

09/01/2016

Been sometime since I cried on my way to work, 

but the thoughts would not let up

Inside screaming, knowing I should do spoken word

That if I could just open my mouth and let it out

I could be epic

If I could articulate without a pen, without a poem 

Without hiding

If I could be anger, frustration, hurt, lonely

If I could be the rage inside that relentlessly speaks so clear

If I could just be it

On a mic 

On a stage

On a video

You would know pain too

You would cry as I do when I scream at the top of my lungs

I’m ALONE

And when I explain that the only time I don’t feel alone is when I find other creative individuals who are trapped inside their thoughts

and the only relief for any of us is to turn them into art

When I am able to tell you that…

You would get it

You would get me

I would finally be seen

11/06/2017

My life is strange

Kids shortchanged

Even though I give them everything

I’m doing this whole family thing wrong

We are in our own little world, we just don’t belong

I don’t have parents with white picket fences

She's not baking pies for the holiday

No, I have a mom who is disengaged 

Losing touch with reality

Senility, and I see me

and I worry

My dad is a piece of shit who has held my mom hostage 

This marriage only for his convenience 

He can’t survive without her

So he kept her with the unspoken threat of murder

I don’t invite them over 

Ever

I have not been in their home for 12 years

In my mind, that place is non existent 

It’s like it disappeared

So my kids haven’t had grandparents

My husband’s mom recently passed

A relief for me, cause guilt was all I had

Feeling her son’s death

Could have been prevented

If I just stayed and never left him

Thanksgiving isn't really much of a thing

without a family’s presence 

My oldest has moved out and will spend it with her fiancé 

and the younger two 

Could give a fuck about the food

Like most important family days for gathering

It’s sobering

That I’ve done my life wrong 

Done my kids a disservice 

They don’t deserve this

11/22/2017

Overwhelming feeling of not belonging

I'm with family

But it's not familiar

I alienated myself slowly while married

Until I became the alien

They all have careers and I have a job

They have spouses and I have bad memories

Pseudo widow still staring through windows

Not an ounce of grief

But afraid to go beyond the pane

To leave the sill, to risk failure

Yet when I write I rush to risk

Race to face fear of vulnerability

almost to obsession

Excessive exposure 

Teetering on truth and fantasy

Displays of vanity through revealing my insecurities

Words, vibrant reflections of me

admiration in alliterations

Pride in prose, pride in ME, I suppose

How can it be that I despise my physical 

yet love my capability

An extension of me, is it not?

So maybe the fantasy I create most lies in this statement of hate

Where the reality is an obnoxious self centered love that I hide

An adoration for myself

Perhaps my fear is more centered around hiding my egocentricity 

Rather than my physical identity

12/27/2015

the summer before entering 8th grade

                                                      i was raped.

            T   H   I   R   T   E   E   N 

Do you understand how immature, inexperienced, ill equipped i was to process this?

i was a child without any rules, without discipline. 

there was no need, i was good

and besides my mom was always sleeping. 

i didn't know to be mad, not enough self esteem, mad wasn't a right i thought i had

so i maintained friendship with him.

it was my decision to go to a boys house when no one else was home. i was the one on the floor, the fat girl with her pants off exposed i could have stopped it, i could have gotten up, but i was afraid to move, i didn't want to be naked in front of him trying to get my pants back on, the fat girl the boys liked to tease, i was only thirteen 

i didn't want to be seen.

so i didn't stop it

i was only thirteen, and that day

my virginity was taken from me

instead of avoiding boys

from that day on the fear of the first time was gone so i opened myself to the next one

then everyone

i didn't  feel anything during, was just addicted to the idea of being wanted, so i endured it

the emptiness of sex became a game a challenge a quest

who was it going to be, who would be next?

until i turned nineteen

and gave a boy a baby because he asked me to

must love me right? if he wanted a child

DENIAL

i was still a child, with a child 

in denial over that what happened that summer before 8th grade had changed me

and there i was with a baby because someone wanted me, someone asked me 

and it stopped me, i settled down, and took care of my daughter

and now my other

and now my son

WHEN!!!!!!!! when will it be my turn?

when does my life begin? i can't help but fear that it begins 

just before it ends...

04/03/2017

the summer before entering 9th grade

i got pregnant.

F O U R T E E N

Do you understand how immature, inexperienced, ill equipped i was to process this?

i was a child with a child inside.

pro choice, only choice, my mom's choice

she had been forced to give a baby up for adoption. i guess she didn't want me to suffer that trauma.

so, no choice.

abortion at fourteen. the right thing. but never should have happened.

too much freedom. but i was a good girl. 

i did well in school. i never used drugs.

i just used sex. i used boys. i used sex to use boys to feel wanted.

i wanted to be wanted and sex was the way to fill an empty that i could not seem to shake.

it’s still there today. it never goes away. i abuse food to ease its constant nagging. 

i write so i’m distracted. i flirt from a safe distance to feel wanted

knowing I'll never have to act upon it.

i act. play a part. i pretend. i made kittycity

i’m still empty.

04/04/2017