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[personal profile] rachg82
Hello, people. I know I haven't posted in a while -- I just haven't felt like going to the trouble, especially because there are so few people left now to read it, let alone people who actually comment. But I finished a new poem, mainly inspired by the 5-year anniversary of my mom's death (this coming-up Monday), and I thought I might as well share it along with some quick highlights of what's been going on with me.

-I performed at a talent show at the Alano Club here in Portland this past Saturday, reading this poem, and got a great reaction. I even made one woman cry! (I probably shouldn't be so happy about that, haha) I feel proud of myself for doing it, because it took a lot of guts in my opinion, and it reaffirmed for me my dreams of becoming a published writer. So all in all it was a positive experience.

-I went to an orientation last week at the 13 Salmon Family Center (a day shelter for homeless families provided by Portland Homeless Family Solutions), and my first shift will be in April. They don't require a huge time commitment -- they just ask for volunteers to do at least one shift a month, which can be anytime. The two positions I'm interested in (I can go back & forth) are the afternoon host & the kid-time host, neither of which last more than 3 hours (which is important to me as I don't want to overwhelm myself). The duties are super simple, and mainly include hanging with the families, playing with the kids, and putting together snacks. I'm still a little nervous about it, though, but also excited. Portland has a huge homeless problem that's only gotten a million times worse over the last decade or so, largely thanks to the huge influx of people moving here from out-of-state, and I just want to do something to help. Plus, it will hopefully provide me with a greater sense of purpose, being unemployed & on disability myself, and maybe in the long run could provide a stepping stone to at least get back to doing part-time work.

-I have an appointment tomorrow with a weight loss program at my doctor's office. It's only an orientation though -- just a chance to talk about what the program has to offer, and what the costs would be. I'm still totally undecided as to whether I'll move forward with it, but I felt like it was worth my time to at least look into it. My last time on the scale was a rude awakening; I am literally more than double what I once was. It's not even about wanting to look skinny again though. I mean, yes, I would like that to happen, but mainly I'm just tired of being tired. I feel so heavy, like I'm dragging around another person with me everywhere I go, and in a sense I guess I am. So I'm curious what they would have to say, especially in light of the fact that some of my meds are probably exacerbating the problem (both the fatigue & being hungry all the time). I'm not really at a place where I'm ready to change those meds yet, but I'd like to know if they have strategies I could use to fight those side-effects until I am ready.

-As I said above, it will be the 5th anniversary of my mom's death on 3/27. My emotions have been pretty volatile for most of this month, and I've been left feeling very drained & raw. It's hard to even write about it, honestly. I just feel like I'm constantly reliving that devastating day, and so it's been a challenge at times to stay grounded. I had a ridiculous meltdown over nothing yesterday, and while talking about it later my counselor was like, "Do you think it could be that you're just deeply sad?" And it was like, well, considering how much my heart physically hurts right now, I'd say probably yeah. It sucks.

Part of what's been making it hard is the fact that it's been FIVE YEARS. It just feels like some messed-up milestone--half a decade without her existing anywhere on this whole planet--and it's so depressing. I can usually get myself to feel some peace around her passing now by remembering she's no longer struggling, but right now I just feel like the most stubborn of shit. It's a little scary, too, because it's only the second anniversary I've actually gone through since her death without the use of Klonopin. So even though the emotions might be totally normal, they FEEL super intense. But I'm handling it, and I haven't used or self-harmed, so I'm calling that a win.

-I was going to write about TV too (I finally finished Six Feet Under & have a lot of feels), but I think the above is enough for now. Lastly, here is the poem I wrote this week. It's not much, but it's the first creative thing I've completed in months, so I'll take it!


When I was young,
I yearned quietly for silence,
for the solitary sound
of a gentle breeze blowing
through an open window in spring.

My nuclear blast of a mother
never stopped moving,
never stopped shouting,
never stopped speaking her mind
whether someone was listening
or not.

Her words came out in a constant rush,
as if her topsy-turvy mind
had pressed fast-forward
on her entire being.

There was no time to waste.

I never stopped to predict
how part of me would someday miss
the busy preoccupation of chaos,
or the sudden rise
before the fall.

No one warned me
how utterly still the sky would be
once she was gone --
dotted miles of wreckage
left perpetually on pause;
the memory
of her pretty, raspy voice
fading impossibly away.

She was my big bang.
She was my singularity.

Cherry blossoms drifting down
like pink snow --
in the end,
we buried her ashes on a comically
sunny day, full of life.

Good one, God.

I thought to myself,
"If I open my mouth now,
I'll never stop screaming."

So I kept my mouth shut,
and I remembered how they say
to be careful
what you wish for.

But I was tired
of being careful.

So many of the things about her
that I'd never understood,
I was soon doomed
to repeat.

Med lines
and shoes with no laces;
panicked feet pacing
in a cage;
eyes frozen & fixed in an unbearable gaze,
unable to move at all;
only talons for toes.

These wings were broken.

My mother's death
had severed an essential cord between us,
leaving me to float helplessly
through the black vacuum of space

(My gravity, my wild orbit)

Born in quicksand,
I never quite learned how to fly.

I couldn't begin to remember
how to breathe.

Like the heavy box of dynamite
strapped to my sleeping chest,
it turns out silence
is the most deafening sound
of all.


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