i'm an emotional cleaner.
whenever things feel like they're fallin apart at the seems, or if there is somethin or someone i can't get out of my head. when i'm tryin desperately to make sense of somethin or if i'm upset/happy/frustrated/sad, it appears that the mop and broom and sponges are my go to. some people look for a bag of chips or a carton of ice cream. me? i'm tryna eradicate all dust bunnies
i've been tryin to sort through some rather complex and perplexin emotions recently. i'm at a place of confusion and hurt. i'm havin some self-doubt and that's the worse type of doubt anyone can have really. it questions your sanity to where you aren't sure of what you're thinkin or what you believe in anymore. so, i've been cleanin. it usually starts with an irresistible urge to wash the dishes.
ALL OF THEM.
dirty or clean, i fill up the sinks and go to work. the mindless motion of wash, rinse and repeat slows down some of the noise and voices in my head. then i move onto the stove and counters. then the floor. you can see where this is goin, right?
i spent the weekend unpackin. i was sortin through and organizin the contents from boxes that i'd prepared to mail before i left home. bein in a new house i needed to find places for things with less space than before to accommodate them. although i'd lost some things durin the storms, i've realized that i still have quite a bit of stuff. but i digress.
the voices and things swilrlin around loudly in my skull are there because i haven't quite come to the place where i want to talk about them. sure, i've had some discussions with some people that matter to me, but the intensity of the things needs more attention. add also to the fact that i've pretty much been in hidin and no one really knows where i am and it makes it even more challengin to sort through what/how i'm feelin. i'm anxious. i'm worried. i'm annoyed. conflicted. confused. troubled. angry. hurt. resentful. disappointed. and so on and so on and the list grows and grows with each passin day. one day at a time and all that, but for me it's more like one hour, one minute. one thirty second period . . .
cleanin up is usually soothin for me. it's the physical act of cleansin; i feel like as i remove dirt or grime or grease from somethin, i'm also takin it away from me. i'm gettin rid of the clutter in my head or heart that is makin my life feel messy. i'm creatin a clear space for somethin new to inhabit by removin debris and junk and trash. it usually works. this time, not so much.
so, i dust. i mop. i fold. i sweep. i wash, rinse, repeat until my fingers are all wrinkled and my polish is chipped and my hands reek of bleach and pine sol. but the noises quiet down and the voices are silenced and i don't feel like my chest is goin to explode.
for now anyway . . .
29 January, 2018
25 January, 2018
Thirsty
so i've been thinkin . . .
been doin that a lot lately, what with no job and all this spare time on my hands now. i've had a lot of time to sit and reflect and examine some things and i've come to a conclusion:
i'm thirsty.
now someone may say well jus grab somethin to drink. if it were so simple then i wouldn't be feelin like i'm dyin of thirst. no, my problem isn't so much the absence of water; it's the lack of watering.
you may have heard the phrase "The grass is greener on the other side." well let me be the first to inform you of what complete and utter bull$%*! that is. first of all, mind your own damn grass. how do you even know what that other grass looks like anyway? furthermore, how do you even know it's real grass? huh?
grass, as i've come to discover, is some pretty hardy stuff. it can withstand the blazin sun, torrential rain, freezin cold, breakin wind and tramplin feet. it can be cut and burned and eaten down and withered to a husk but if/when conditions are optimal, it will thrive and flourish. how about that? it can grow in the harshest of environments, in places where it has no business even bein rooted, where there is so slim a chance of survival. but it somehow finds a way. go grass.
so now back to this phrase. you know what the problem is with this phrase? it makes you want to compare. it distracts you from the thing that is right in front of you. it obscures your focus and makes you believe that what you have isn't good enough. so you're all like, "what's wrong with my grass?" then your attention strays. you begin to see things that aren't really there or that you may have overlooked before. you judge. you undermine. you neglect. and soon, that ole fake grass on the other side really does look greener. it's taller and more plush; fuller, prettier. better.
or is it?
see, there's nothing wrong with your grass. or your fence. and looks really can be deceivin. the truth is you don't really know anythin about that grass. and you may get on that other side and realize it's really painted rocks. or broken glass. or a pile of rags. so i go back to what i said earlier: mind your own damn grass.
when i left home, my mom had jus had her yard trimmed. it was vastly overgrown when we first moved in and was really high. the pathway from the bottom of the stairs and driveway and to the front door were all but hidden under they swayin stalks. we walked on top of some, over some and around some to get to where we needed to go. but the grass prevailed. it kept right on growin and thrivin and didn't pay us one bit of mind. because it did't really need us to grow. it was here first. we met it here when we came. but it needed to be nurtured and cared for and taken care of. so that's what mom did.
there is NOTHING wrong with my grass. it was growin and thrivin and doin it's own thing all fine by itself. it was here when others came along. it's beautiful grass. and people wanted to lay claim to it. but if you're gonna stake a fence around a patch of grass, then dammit, take care of it. be gentle with it. nurture it. have the patience to trim back the weeds and undergrowth. and above all, water it.
because grass really doesn't need anyone to take care of it. it's a survivor. that's what grass does. it survives. in spite of all the things that can and often will happen to hinder it's progress, it doesn't quit. it keeps on tryin its best to grow. and thrive. and flourish. but it will accept your help. and patience and gentleness. your kindness and tender lovin care.
the grass isn't greener because it's on the other side. it looks greener because you didn't take the time to water yours.
the grass is green where you water it . . . so mind your own damn grass.
it may jus be thirsty.
been doin that a lot lately, what with no job and all this spare time on my hands now. i've had a lot of time to sit and reflect and examine some things and i've come to a conclusion:
i'm thirsty.
now someone may say well jus grab somethin to drink. if it were so simple then i wouldn't be feelin like i'm dyin of thirst. no, my problem isn't so much the absence of water; it's the lack of watering.
you may have heard the phrase "The grass is greener on the other side." well let me be the first to inform you of what complete and utter bull$%*! that is. first of all, mind your own damn grass. how do you even know what that other grass looks like anyway? furthermore, how do you even know it's real grass? huh?
grass, as i've come to discover, is some pretty hardy stuff. it can withstand the blazin sun, torrential rain, freezin cold, breakin wind and tramplin feet. it can be cut and burned and eaten down and withered to a husk but if/when conditions are optimal, it will thrive and flourish. how about that? it can grow in the harshest of environments, in places where it has no business even bein rooted, where there is so slim a chance of survival. but it somehow finds a way. go grass.
so now back to this phrase. you know what the problem is with this phrase? it makes you want to compare. it distracts you from the thing that is right in front of you. it obscures your focus and makes you believe that what you have isn't good enough. so you're all like, "what's wrong with my grass?" then your attention strays. you begin to see things that aren't really there or that you may have overlooked before. you judge. you undermine. you neglect. and soon, that ole fake grass on the other side really does look greener. it's taller and more plush; fuller, prettier. better.
or is it?
see, there's nothing wrong with your grass. or your fence. and looks really can be deceivin. the truth is you don't really know anythin about that grass. and you may get on that other side and realize it's really painted rocks. or broken glass. or a pile of rags. so i go back to what i said earlier: mind your own damn grass.
when i left home, my mom had jus had her yard trimmed. it was vastly overgrown when we first moved in and was really high. the pathway from the bottom of the stairs and driveway and to the front door were all but hidden under they swayin stalks. we walked on top of some, over some and around some to get to where we needed to go. but the grass prevailed. it kept right on growin and thrivin and didn't pay us one bit of mind. because it did't really need us to grow. it was here first. we met it here when we came. but it needed to be nurtured and cared for and taken care of. so that's what mom did.
there is NOTHING wrong with my grass. it was growin and thrivin and doin it's own thing all fine by itself. it was here when others came along. it's beautiful grass. and people wanted to lay claim to it. but if you're gonna stake a fence around a patch of grass, then dammit, take care of it. be gentle with it. nurture it. have the patience to trim back the weeds and undergrowth. and above all, water it.
because grass really doesn't need anyone to take care of it. it's a survivor. that's what grass does. it survives. in spite of all the things that can and often will happen to hinder it's progress, it doesn't quit. it keeps on tryin its best to grow. and thrive. and flourish. but it will accept your help. and patience and gentleness. your kindness and tender lovin care.
the grass isn't greener because it's on the other side. it looks greener because you didn't take the time to water yours.
the grass is green where you water it . . . so mind your own damn grass.
it may jus be thirsty.
23 January, 2018
It's Just Stuff
for those of you who are new to this page; welcome!
for those of you who are willin to give me another chance; thanks!
2017 was a roller coaster of a ride for me, to say the very least. i tried to restart (again) this blogging thing but alas, life got the better of me (again). so here i am, again. in my defense, it really was a wild ride of a year - i became an auntie twice, continued datin, stopped goin to my long-time church, got engaged, began to plan for a wedding, went to visit my fiance', survived 2 category 5 hurricanes, left my job, and tried to locate to the states.
whew!
currently, i'm really back at square one with a lot of things in my life because, well, life happens. people change, things don't go the way we hoped for or expected them to and you can either continue to cry over it or you can try to pick up the remainin pieces of your life and see how to get them to fit again. if i'm gonna be honest, i'm kinda doin both right now. aside from the passing and subsequent aftermath of the strongest storm in the history of the atlantic hurricane seasons, things were bad, but didn't seem impossible to recover from. i guess in reality, i was numb from the whole experience. in hindsight that's exactly what happened and even though i thought i was normal, i really wasn't. jus takin things one day at a time wasn't enough to heal the trauma of the situations and the survival mood that you're shifted into when somethin like that happens to you. homes were destroyed, families were altered, lives were lost . . . and the home i had was no longer the home i knew anymore. it had changed and was different. i had changed. and i am different.
my mom and i were livin together before the first storm. we rode that beast out together, holdin each other while singin and prayin under my sister's mattress in the inner bathroom as the world we knew came crashin down around us. the three story buildin we lived in shook with the force of the wind whippin around inside and out. all the glass windows were blown out; the cabinets in the kitchen were torn off and all the plates and cups and spices and everythin else were swirlin in the tornado of our kitchen. the fridge was jammed into the hallway and blocked our path through the front door. we tried three times to leave out the back way from my sister's bedroom but by the time we made it down to the second level the passageway of those apartments made it impossible for us to get past the wind and rain and debris funnelin through. so we returned and waited, listenin to the walls creak and groan, feelin the floor quakin beneath our bodies on the floor. it felt like forever.
and then it was gone.
Irma passed. but she also took. when we realized that it was over and finally came outside, all we could do was thank God that we had been spared. to see the devastation, the destruction, the damage . . . never in my wildest dreams would i have been able to imagine what i saw. the crazy part of all this is that this was not my first hurricane experience.i had been through Hugo in '89; Marilyn in '95. but this, this was not real to me. this couldn't have happened. but it did.
and then came Maria. what Irma didn't finish, Maria completed. people with no roofs were now flooded out. the last little bit of shelter or belongings you may have had were finally gone. it was hard to really tell what Maria had really done so soon off the heels of Irma, but we didn't need to see it. we felt it. the dread in your blood hearin the wind again. the ice in the pit of your stomach at the sound of the rain fallin. we didn't need to see what Maria could do. we were still in shock over Irma.
then you have to figure out how to pick up the pieces. if you can find them. my mom and i spent the daylight hours after Irma sortin through plaster that had fallin from the ceilin and pickin up glass from the windows. we swept and mopped and pulled and pushed and hauled out the bits and pieces of furniture and sheet rock and damaged household items while we could see. once the sun set, we heated water on the stove with the gas so we could rinse off in the shower. we ate our small dinner and then went to sleep listenin to the only radio station that was still on the air. it was usually no later than six in the evenin. at sunrise, we would start over, goin from room to room, tryin to sort things out. and then we heard Maria was on her way. my brother was concerned about our safety so he insisted we come and stay with him and his family until the second storm had passed. we didn't leave until December. it was nice to have some semblance of normalcy stayin at my brother's. he had a generator so we had some lights and runnin water. we were able to have cool beverages and maybe a movie or two from his laptop. we played board games and cards and laughed and talked and joked with one another. we did things like "normal" families would. and it felt good to be able to have that in spite of everythin that was still goin on to rebuild and restore.
i left my job because of unforeseen complications with my health as a result of the storms. but i was able to use my time to get things done for my mom or other family members and friends who still had to go to work durin the curfew hours. i could go to the stores or stand in the long long long lines to pick up meds or check the mail or whatever needed to be done before things shut down for the night. and there was a peace of mind about bein useful. of bein helpful and jus bein there in whatever way i could.
things have become less complicated for me since all of this. and i've relearned how to appreciate the simple things again. before Irma arrived my mom and i were scurryin around our apartment tryin to secure stuff so it would be safe. and in the midst of that, a still small voice said to me "it's jus stuff"
i guess that's sorta become a daily matra: It's Just Stuff
i've been tryin to enjoy more time with my family and with myself. i can hear God's voice a little bit clearer now that i'm not as consumed by what i do or do not have. i was never really overly concerned with things, now find that there are things i don't even miss. those storms have shown me the truly important things. and honestly, they're not things at all . . .
for those of you who are willin to give me another chance; thanks!
2017 was a roller coaster of a ride for me, to say the very least. i tried to restart (again) this blogging thing but alas, life got the better of me (again). so here i am, again. in my defense, it really was a wild ride of a year - i became an auntie twice, continued datin, stopped goin to my long-time church, got engaged, began to plan for a wedding, went to visit my fiance', survived 2 category 5 hurricanes, left my job, and tried to locate to the states.
whew!
currently, i'm really back at square one with a lot of things in my life because, well, life happens. people change, things don't go the way we hoped for or expected them to and you can either continue to cry over it or you can try to pick up the remainin pieces of your life and see how to get them to fit again. if i'm gonna be honest, i'm kinda doin both right now. aside from the passing and subsequent aftermath of the strongest storm in the history of the atlantic hurricane seasons, things were bad, but didn't seem impossible to recover from. i guess in reality, i was numb from the whole experience. in hindsight that's exactly what happened and even though i thought i was normal, i really wasn't. jus takin things one day at a time wasn't enough to heal the trauma of the situations and the survival mood that you're shifted into when somethin like that happens to you. homes were destroyed, families were altered, lives were lost . . . and the home i had was no longer the home i knew anymore. it had changed and was different. i had changed. and i am different.
my mom and i were livin together before the first storm. we rode that beast out together, holdin each other while singin and prayin under my sister's mattress in the inner bathroom as the world we knew came crashin down around us. the three story buildin we lived in shook with the force of the wind whippin around inside and out. all the glass windows were blown out; the cabinets in the kitchen were torn off and all the plates and cups and spices and everythin else were swirlin in the tornado of our kitchen. the fridge was jammed into the hallway and blocked our path through the front door. we tried three times to leave out the back way from my sister's bedroom but by the time we made it down to the second level the passageway of those apartments made it impossible for us to get past the wind and rain and debris funnelin through. so we returned and waited, listenin to the walls creak and groan, feelin the floor quakin beneath our bodies on the floor. it felt like forever.
and then it was gone.
Irma passed. but she also took. when we realized that it was over and finally came outside, all we could do was thank God that we had been spared. to see the devastation, the destruction, the damage . . . never in my wildest dreams would i have been able to imagine what i saw. the crazy part of all this is that this was not my first hurricane experience.i had been through Hugo in '89; Marilyn in '95. but this, this was not real to me. this couldn't have happened. but it did.
and then came Maria. what Irma didn't finish, Maria completed. people with no roofs were now flooded out. the last little bit of shelter or belongings you may have had were finally gone. it was hard to really tell what Maria had really done so soon off the heels of Irma, but we didn't need to see it. we felt it. the dread in your blood hearin the wind again. the ice in the pit of your stomach at the sound of the rain fallin. we didn't need to see what Maria could do. we were still in shock over Irma.
then you have to figure out how to pick up the pieces. if you can find them. my mom and i spent the daylight hours after Irma sortin through plaster that had fallin from the ceilin and pickin up glass from the windows. we swept and mopped and pulled and pushed and hauled out the bits and pieces of furniture and sheet rock and damaged household items while we could see. once the sun set, we heated water on the stove with the gas so we could rinse off in the shower. we ate our small dinner and then went to sleep listenin to the only radio station that was still on the air. it was usually no later than six in the evenin. at sunrise, we would start over, goin from room to room, tryin to sort things out. and then we heard Maria was on her way. my brother was concerned about our safety so he insisted we come and stay with him and his family until the second storm had passed. we didn't leave until December. it was nice to have some semblance of normalcy stayin at my brother's. he had a generator so we had some lights and runnin water. we were able to have cool beverages and maybe a movie or two from his laptop. we played board games and cards and laughed and talked and joked with one another. we did things like "normal" families would. and it felt good to be able to have that in spite of everythin that was still goin on to rebuild and restore.
i left my job because of unforeseen complications with my health as a result of the storms. but i was able to use my time to get things done for my mom or other family members and friends who still had to go to work durin the curfew hours. i could go to the stores or stand in the long long long lines to pick up meds or check the mail or whatever needed to be done before things shut down for the night. and there was a peace of mind about bein useful. of bein helpful and jus bein there in whatever way i could.
things have become less complicated for me since all of this. and i've relearned how to appreciate the simple things again. before Irma arrived my mom and i were scurryin around our apartment tryin to secure stuff so it would be safe. and in the midst of that, a still small voice said to me "it's jus stuff"
i guess that's sorta become a daily matra: It's Just Stuff
i've been tryin to enjoy more time with my family and with myself. i can hear God's voice a little bit clearer now that i'm not as consumed by what i do or do not have. i was never really overly concerned with things, now find that there are things i don't even miss. those storms have shown me the truly important things. and honestly, they're not things at all . . .
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