lost + found
Somewhere along the way I had lost myself. I am not sure where. Maybe under the cushions where we lose our forgotten change. Or maybe like we often lose that sock in the dryer. And I am now working so hard to find her again and I love this person I’ve only begun to become reacquainted with again.
I got so caught up in everything else.
Everyone else’s problems and hurt.
I wanted to fix everything and didn’t want them to hurt or struggle.
I lost myself.
And I wonder why I was so depressed and exhausted for so long. I might not be the same person I was then because that person was only a shell of who I was and who I could become. It took some time, though I’ve found that clarity comes with a little pain. It not so gently reminds us that there is more learn and do.
I was reminded that caring for my needs and happiness is equally important. Living a happy and fulfilled life makes me a better person for those I love.
I was roaming lost in such a difficult and dark place for a while. Yes, I felt so used and manipulated. But what I’ve found to be even more difficult is forgiving myself.
And today with an open heart again, I’ve done just that. I’ve forgiven myself.
In that, I’ve found myself again.
adrift
adrift
no shore in sight
kicking away at the waves
crashing against my heart
losing my breath
skin
cold, clammy
desperate for warm touch
the breeze light, yet deliberate
swallows my body whole
deep breaths
lungs shallow and wavering
struggling to catch my breath
I wait
wait for warm touch again
wait for the light in the distance
bones ache
dark clouds extinguish the light out
thunder deep and prolonged in the distance
a menacing, yet familiar sight
adrift
no shore in sight
kicking away at the waves
crashing against my heart
losing my breath
writing again
every moment captured line by line
line by line comes as easy to me as breathing in and out
each and every line, an opportunity to connect
this gnawing, exhausted and angry soul grips my chest
I am barely living with all the passing thoughts
passing thoughts that keep me up at night
putting those thoughts down line by line
helps me find the quiet and peace I need to heal
I am reaching out to you to be vulnerable again
line by line my soul heals
I am so difficult on myself and the poems I write. Cliché, but true, we're our own worst enemies. I get so consumed with the technical parts, criticize myself for not capturing enough imagery... then I just don't write. When I am not writing, I am not working through my thoughts or emotions. I shouldn't consume myself with what other people think and just write.