I’m alone.
I ain’t got no change for the phone
And I’m scared
I feel trapped
I hate how I got here
Don’t know when I’ll get out.
That’s wacked and that’s a fact.
Life’s on borrowed time
It’s on a loan
Angels bargained for me
And I’m back
To stand alone
My heart’s pumpin’ fast
And I’m all alone
My heart's pumpin’ faster
And I’m all alone
I’m on my own
Friday, May 23, 2008
I noticed it from the corner of my eye/ Joan
This is the tree in the back yard.
I noticed it from the corner of my eye:
it is silver and grey and perfectly formed.
The History Channel was talking about ghost ships,
so I started calling it my ghost tree.
I happened to notice it from the corner of my eye.
I noticed it from the corner of my eye:
it is silver and grey and perfectly formed.
The History Channel was talking about ghost ships,
so I started calling it my ghost tree.
I happened to notice it from the corner of my eye.
I come from my grandmother’s dreams
I come from my grandmother’s dreams
A girl. Finally. The pink and white blanket envisioned a generation ago can be knit. Only the best yarn will do. Oh, yes. The thick blanket cradles the lump on her head perfectly. Dr. Epstein, the famous surgeon, removes it and she is fine, you see?
Dreams can come true
Erin, you still do? Ha! Yes, every day I put cream on my elbows too. Feel how smooth. Let me see yours. Oh, yes. You are a lady too. Now tell me how is Johnny, Vice President? Oh-ah! He is good. He is smart. And you too. You will graduate, get a good job. Now why don’t you marry this one? He will have you, support you, be good to you. And he wants Jewish babies, yes? Oh, I am talking, talking – the flowers! Why do you do this, baby? So much money! Oh, Erin, I love you. I love your brother too, but you – ah, you know it.
I became my grandmother’s nightmare.
Kicked out of college. For drugs! What is this? Marijuana now. Then it will be heroin. Is she addicted? The soap opera showed it – the girl addicted to drugs, meeting the dealer in a dark alley, selling her body. Not Erin. Why won’t her mother, her father, her godmother, someone, they won’t save her, make her be good?
There is no cure for nightmares.
You must do as I say Erin. Go back to school. Be a mentch. Leave this – this place. Your parents don’t even know this man. Who is he? Why? Why won’t you? You MUST LISTEN to me. You’re lucky. You have parents that love you, that want you home. My parents died in the war when I was 14. I was alone. Fourteen. Go, go home. Erin, please. What is wrong with you? What are you doing in this place? I want to see you. Meet him. You were too bony. Eat. You need to eat, eat. I will cook for you. You will bring him to me. That is fine. But DO SOMETHING. You don’t listen to me. Listen to your mother. She says you are bad. Be good. Go. Be a mentch.
I am waking up.
I give her eulogy, high. Everyone says how beautiful it was. Reminds me how grandma stitched her every stitch with love. So she’s giving me a big hug. Back at his studio I rip the sweater off to look for a fresh vein. The needle rocks me to sleep. I dream that I’m clean, back in school, happy, bringing my grandma flowers, making her proud.
Dreams can come true.
Happy Mother’s Day grandma. I love you. I miss you so much! I’m 9 months clean. I wish you were here to see me like this. I’m trying so hard to be a mentch. I’m gonna go back to school, be an art teacher or an art therapist. I guess you know what I am doing now (not like you didn’t have ideas when you were here. I know you knew it all). I’m sorry I hurt you so bad. I know you forgive me. I just wish I’d been good enough that you could’ve visited me, told me stories before bed. I don’t even remember your last Mother’s Day. And today just doesn’t feel right. At least you’re happy somewhere. Tell your mom I say Happy Mother’s Day, too.
And the flowers weren’t much.
I wanted to.
I love you.
A girl. Finally. The pink and white blanket envisioned a generation ago can be knit. Only the best yarn will do. Oh, yes. The thick blanket cradles the lump on her head perfectly. Dr. Epstein, the famous surgeon, removes it and she is fine, you see?
Dreams can come true
Erin, you still do? Ha! Yes, every day I put cream on my elbows too. Feel how smooth. Let me see yours. Oh, yes. You are a lady too. Now tell me how is Johnny, Vice President? Oh-ah! He is good. He is smart. And you too. You will graduate, get a good job. Now why don’t you marry this one? He will have you, support you, be good to you. And he wants Jewish babies, yes? Oh, I am talking, talking – the flowers! Why do you do this, baby? So much money! Oh, Erin, I love you. I love your brother too, but you – ah, you know it.
I became my grandmother’s nightmare.
Kicked out of college. For drugs! What is this? Marijuana now. Then it will be heroin. Is she addicted? The soap opera showed it – the girl addicted to drugs, meeting the dealer in a dark alley, selling her body. Not Erin. Why won’t her mother, her father, her godmother, someone, they won’t save her, make her be good?
There is no cure for nightmares.
You must do as I say Erin. Go back to school. Be a mentch. Leave this – this place. Your parents don’t even know this man. Who is he? Why? Why won’t you? You MUST LISTEN to me. You’re lucky. You have parents that love you, that want you home. My parents died in the war when I was 14. I was alone. Fourteen. Go, go home. Erin, please. What is wrong with you? What are you doing in this place? I want to see you. Meet him. You were too bony. Eat. You need to eat, eat. I will cook for you. You will bring him to me. That is fine. But DO SOMETHING. You don’t listen to me. Listen to your mother. She says you are bad. Be good. Go. Be a mentch.
I am waking up.
I give her eulogy, high. Everyone says how beautiful it was. Reminds me how grandma stitched her every stitch with love. So she’s giving me a big hug. Back at his studio I rip the sweater off to look for a fresh vein. The needle rocks me to sleep. I dream that I’m clean, back in school, happy, bringing my grandma flowers, making her proud.
Dreams can come true.
Happy Mother’s Day grandma. I love you. I miss you so much! I’m 9 months clean. I wish you were here to see me like this. I’m trying so hard to be a mentch. I’m gonna go back to school, be an art teacher or an art therapist. I guess you know what I am doing now (not like you didn’t have ideas when you were here. I know you knew it all). I’m sorry I hurt you so bad. I know you forgive me. I just wish I’d been good enough that you could’ve visited me, told me stories before bed. I don’t even remember your last Mother’s Day. And today just doesn’t feel right. At least you’re happy somewhere. Tell your mom I say Happy Mother’s Day, too.
And the flowers weren’t much.
I wanted to.
I love you.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Linda: Silencing, screams and finding voice
My voice was silenced since I was a little girl
When I was a small child,I am told,
I had a very large voice,
a large voice and large sobs when I was unhappy.
I would run to my grandma, scared and silent
and hide beneath her skirts so I would not get hit.
I remember running away from my father-
a larger than life person with huge hands
and a voice that made me shiver when he called my name -
I was scared of being found and punished,
for my “big mouth”,
for being a chatterbox,
for minding my brother’s work and imperfections,
for carrying home the “tales of the day” from public school.
for things beyond my control,
such as wetting my bed each and every night.
My father was in the navy
And when he came home on leave
he looked tall and handsome in his white uniform
and shoes shinning like mirrors.
He played with us
until my laughter turned to pleading
for him to stop tickling me.
When I started to cry he became angry
and called me a cry-baby.
Then he’d start drinking.
If one of us misbehaved- we all suffered.
He would hit us over and over
while my mother stood outside the door
holding a tube of first-aid cream and band-aids
that did little to cover our bruises.
I knew fear from an early age.
I feared my father,
learned to hide and pocket my words – my sobs,
trying to find my bed before he found me.
But then I was afraid to go to bed,
scared to awaken in soaking wet sheets and be punished.
I was punished and hit if I asked for a drink before going to sleep
or ices and ice cream like my brothers and sister.
I learned that I was “a problem child” –
always needing more attention than the rest,
getting it in ways that left me troubled and more scared.
I learned early that silence would serve me best
if I wanted to avoid physical punishment
but sometimes I would forget
and had to run away to escape his wrath.
The “all clear” sounded in my head
when my father slipped off to sleep
and was oblivious to the chaos in a house with 4 children.
When I was a pre-teen
I was so terrified of my father
that I escaped by staying at school and doing extra work,
as late as I could to avoid conflict at home.
He became angry, and got me home to help with things around the house –
namely, my sick brother.
Upon verbalizing my resentment
I was silenced with the back of my father’s hand.
An emotional wreck,
I did little but cry
isolated in my room.
Began pulling out my hair,
creating bald spots that called for a wig.
The one I got allowed me to escape again,
covering all the scars
that might have shown I was screaming for help,
screaming for help,
begging to be noticed
behind this head cover.
I started to eat
and eat more
and more –
snacks,
cakes,
candy,
whatever I could get my hands on
to pacify my emotions,
to cover up the pain.
As a teenager
I tried to be silent
but could not silence the screams,
hair pulling,
over eating,
bed wetting,
over which I had no control.
Outbursts led to punishment.
I hated myself
and found new ways to escape the pain –
pills(for a condition my parents called “highly strung”).
My elder sister was protective of me
and I followed her everywhere she let me go.
When I wet my bed I would crawl into bed with her
and wet her bed also.
My brother Howard and I spent time together
getting high and trying to avoid trouble.
It didn’t work
My twin brother Harry developed epilepsy
as a result of a blow to his head
and at age 11 I became responsible for his wellbeing.
As his seizures went out of control
I began suffering from migraines.
The pain medication and tranquilizers I was prescribed
were the beginning of my addiction –
I was high most of the time on doctor-prescribed meds.
At 18 I ran into the arms of my husband.
I needed to be rescued, to be taken care of.
What a bad idea that turned out to be!
Now I had adult responsibilities and 2 children in my life,
still afraid to face myself.
I went from child to adult,
skipping all the steps in between.
I was divorced by 25.
I began a long journey of drug addiction.
popping as many pills as I could
until I had none left or was too sick to take any more.
I was running away from myself,
my problems,
my demons,
uncomfortable in my own skin.
I was confused and frustrated,
couldn’t correct the mistakes I had made
nor the course my life was taking.
I lacked confidence and was frightened
by the impulsive decisions I made
affecting the lives of my children.
I was ashamed and and did very little that was right.
I could not silence the nightmare which was my life.
With 2 kids in tow I went back to my mother’s
who berated me for not listening,
for choosing marriage and children too soon,
for being ungrateful,
selfish and stupid,
for not listening….
Ran away again and found myself a welfare mom –
angry, frightened and alone,
scared to learn on my own,
to take responsibility for my choices.
I moved from place to place throughout the years,
reinventing myself as I traveled about
so no one could keep track of my behavior,
my addictive self
the embarrassing things I’d done;
I moved from borough to borough, state to state,
changing my address, jobs and names,
to protect myself from criticism and judgment.
I was broken and homeless by the end of this story,
having gone through too many beginnings and far too many ends.
I am now a voice trying on truth for a change,
looking to drop off the lies, to become more honest,
lighter to carry myself from place to place.
I am now 50 plus and have chosen to stop running and hiding.
because I can’t hide from myself.
There is much work to be done
to live my life free from self doubt and embarrassment.
It’s time to shake the past off my shoulders
to get busy living in the here and now,
right now!
When I was a small child,I am told,
I had a very large voice,
a large voice and large sobs when I was unhappy.
I would run to my grandma, scared and silent
and hide beneath her skirts so I would not get hit.
I remember running away from my father-
a larger than life person with huge hands
and a voice that made me shiver when he called my name -
I was scared of being found and punished,
for my “big mouth”,
for being a chatterbox,
for minding my brother’s work and imperfections,
for carrying home the “tales of the day” from public school.
for things beyond my control,
such as wetting my bed each and every night.
My father was in the navy
And when he came home on leave
he looked tall and handsome in his white uniform
and shoes shinning like mirrors.
He played with us
until my laughter turned to pleading
for him to stop tickling me.
When I started to cry he became angry
and called me a cry-baby.
Then he’d start drinking.
If one of us misbehaved- we all suffered.
He would hit us over and over
while my mother stood outside the door
holding a tube of first-aid cream and band-aids
that did little to cover our bruises.
I knew fear from an early age.
I feared my father,
learned to hide and pocket my words – my sobs,
trying to find my bed before he found me.
But then I was afraid to go to bed,
scared to awaken in soaking wet sheets and be punished.
I was punished and hit if I asked for a drink before going to sleep
or ices and ice cream like my brothers and sister.
I learned that I was “a problem child” –
always needing more attention than the rest,
getting it in ways that left me troubled and more scared.
I learned early that silence would serve me best
if I wanted to avoid physical punishment
but sometimes I would forget
and had to run away to escape his wrath.
The “all clear” sounded in my head
when my father slipped off to sleep
and was oblivious to the chaos in a house with 4 children.
When I was a pre-teen
I was so terrified of my father
that I escaped by staying at school and doing extra work,
as late as I could to avoid conflict at home.
He became angry, and got me home to help with things around the house –
namely, my sick brother.
Upon verbalizing my resentment
I was silenced with the back of my father’s hand.
An emotional wreck,
I did little but cry
isolated in my room.
Began pulling out my hair,
creating bald spots that called for a wig.
The one I got allowed me to escape again,
covering all the scars
that might have shown I was screaming for help,
screaming for help,
begging to be noticed
behind this head cover.
I started to eat
and eat more
and more –
snacks,
cakes,
candy,
whatever I could get my hands on
to pacify my emotions,
to cover up the pain.
As a teenager
I tried to be silent
but could not silence the screams,
hair pulling,
over eating,
bed wetting,
over which I had no control.
Outbursts led to punishment.
I hated myself
and found new ways to escape the pain –
pills(for a condition my parents called “highly strung”).
My elder sister was protective of me
and I followed her everywhere she let me go.
When I wet my bed I would crawl into bed with her
and wet her bed also.
My brother Howard and I spent time together
getting high and trying to avoid trouble.
It didn’t work
My twin brother Harry developed epilepsy
as a result of a blow to his head
and at age 11 I became responsible for his wellbeing.
As his seizures went out of control
I began suffering from migraines.
The pain medication and tranquilizers I was prescribed
were the beginning of my addiction –
I was high most of the time on doctor-prescribed meds.
At 18 I ran into the arms of my husband.
I needed to be rescued, to be taken care of.
What a bad idea that turned out to be!
Now I had adult responsibilities and 2 children in my life,
still afraid to face myself.
I went from child to adult,
skipping all the steps in between.
I was divorced by 25.
I began a long journey of drug addiction.
popping as many pills as I could
until I had none left or was too sick to take any more.
I was running away from myself,
my problems,
my demons,
uncomfortable in my own skin.
I was confused and frustrated,
couldn’t correct the mistakes I had made
nor the course my life was taking.
I lacked confidence and was frightened
by the impulsive decisions I made
affecting the lives of my children.
I was ashamed and and did very little that was right.
I could not silence the nightmare which was my life.
With 2 kids in tow I went back to my mother’s
who berated me for not listening,
for choosing marriage and children too soon,
for being ungrateful,
selfish and stupid,
for not listening….
Ran away again and found myself a welfare mom –
angry, frightened and alone,
scared to learn on my own,
to take responsibility for my choices.
I moved from place to place throughout the years,
reinventing myself as I traveled about
so no one could keep track of my behavior,
my addictive self
the embarrassing things I’d done;
I moved from borough to borough, state to state,
changing my address, jobs and names,
to protect myself from criticism and judgment.
I was broken and homeless by the end of this story,
having gone through too many beginnings and far too many ends.
I am now a voice trying on truth for a change,
looking to drop off the lies, to become more honest,
lighter to carry myself from place to place.
I am now 50 plus and have chosen to stop running and hiding.
because I can’t hide from myself.
There is much work to be done
to live my life free from self doubt and embarrassment.
It’s time to shake the past off my shoulders
to get busy living in the here and now,
right now!
Saturday, May 12, 2007
Dakota
I’ve always loved dogs.
It’s almost like they understand me,
and I understand their need and desire to be loved.
Chew is my best friend.
I tell him everything, although not in words.
When I feel happy, upset or just plain down,
I go and sit with Chew.
I don’t have to talk,
I can sit still
and let my higher power speak to me in the stillness.
When I was young I was told
I was adopted from Canada,
that I’m Mohawk Indian and French Canadian.
Indians believe in spirit guides and so do I.
I feel that certain dogs trust me
because they know
I have the Wolf spirit by my side.
The wolf is the teacher,
the pathfinder
and moon dog of my soul.
It’s almost like they understand me,
and I understand their need and desire to be loved.
Chew is my best friend.
I tell him everything, although not in words.
When I feel happy, upset or just plain down,
I go and sit with Chew.
I don’t have to talk,
I can sit still
and let my higher power speak to me in the stillness.
When I was young I was told
I was adopted from Canada,
that I’m Mohawk Indian and French Canadian.
Indians believe in spirit guides and so do I.
I feel that certain dogs trust me
because they know
I have the Wolf spirit by my side.
The wolf is the teacher,
the pathfinder
and moon dog of my soul.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Patty - I am From…
I am from Barbie dolls and baseball bats,
I am from Girl Scouts and basketball,
I am from PTA
to NA and AA,
I am in Glory House
from living on the street,
I am from being half a person
to being whole again.
I am from Girl Scouts and basketball,
I am from PTA
to NA and AA,
I am in Glory House
from living on the street,
I am from being half a person
to being whole again.
Mary - Today I am Proud of Myself
Life isn’t fair, but we have to learn from it.
I used to be a beautiful mother.
But when I was using I was nobody.
Before, I was on the street drugging.
I was smoking all day and all night,
hanging out with prostitutes.
My sister told me: “you will not be nobody”.
When we feel nobody loves us, we feel lost.
Today I am doing the right thing.
Getting a new foundation for life.
Finding myself by myself has given me power.
Today, when I look at myself in the mirror,
I laugh.
I am somebody:
Jesus loves me.
I love myself.
Today I am proud of myself.
I am a powerful woman.
I hold my head high.
I used to be a beautiful mother.
But when I was using I was nobody.
Before, I was on the street drugging.
I was smoking all day and all night,
hanging out with prostitutes.
My sister told me: “you will not be nobody”.
When we feel nobody loves us, we feel lost.
Today I am doing the right thing.
Getting a new foundation for life.
Finding myself by myself has given me power.
Today, when I look at myself in the mirror,
I laugh.
I am somebody:
Jesus loves me.
I love myself.
Today I am proud of myself.
I am a powerful woman.
I hold my head high.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)