Broken Chrysalis

I woke up this morning…different. Consciousness rose to the surface somewhere around 4am-ish. I don’t know because I didn’t reach for my phone, for once. Oh, all the familiar aches and pains were still there. So many days of being bent over the bench, using my hands as tiny vices, pushing down prongs, sawing, torching, searching for that thing I just had in my hand, eyes always in the microscope, everything pushing toward the center and never having my chest and arms opened up. I can feel it every morning when I wake up on my stomach with my arms out under my pillow. My hands and arms involuntarily push into the bed and my back burns all the way down the middle, my spine clearly out of alignment, muscles tight, hands clenched, throbbing and aching. But, today, even with the aches and pains, was…different. My head wasn’t so heavy. I didn’t feel dread for the day or the future or the heaviness of life’s burdens. I felt, maybe not energized physically, but certainly a new kind of energy, positive energy and the absence of negativity. I was actually able to pull my body out of bed at 5:45. No, it was better than that. I couldn’t KEEP my body in bed, when, for the past…at least three years I have had to willfully and grudgingly drag myself out of sleep wishing I never had to wake up again.

cocoon

It occurs to me that I’ve been in a very dark, confined space, not free to move at all, or to see or to feel. Nothing about my surroundings or situation has changed drastically…yet. But this morning, I felt like the cocoon is beginning to give. No wings are out, they are still bound, my legs still can only barely wiggle, but my antennae are out, feeling around, tasting the air, proboscis unwinding, ready to partake of life’s nectar, and my eyes are almost uncovered. I can almost see my way out of confinement. Every day I will wiggle a bit more, search a bit more, seek a bit more, till my bonds break free. I want to fly.

I won’t think about darkness anymore. I will push those thoughts from me and concentrate on the light. I will keep dark people at arms length and seek out the people who’s light is contagious. I will let their flame ignite my own. Then, when I’m a full fiery blaze, and those who’s lights have gone dim are drawn to mine, I will use my light to ignite theirs. I will learn a new way of thinking, a new way of speaking, a new way of existing. I will free myself. I will move my body, wake with the sun, and consume only that which will heal and nurture. I will grow strong. Someday very soon, I will love myself again.

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Dead

I have no passion left. I don’t care about anything I once cared about. Organic healthy food, gardening, exercise, making my own health and beauty products, hiking, camping, art, building, writing, fun, adventure, sustainable living, TREEHOUSES… Facebook, Instagram and Pinterest don’t inspire anymore, they only make me sad and angry now. It’s all so worthless. No one else cares who I am, or who I once was. those things don’t matter, who I was never mattered because I was the only one who cared. No one shared in those passions with me. I can’t care anymore. It’s too hard to keep up with all of that. There isn’t time nor money to care anyway and it hurts too much to give a shit when no one else feels my passion, no one else feels joy in doing those things WITH me, always telling me why we can’t, or why they don’t want to. No one cares to lift me up to a place where I am ABLE to care about those things and pursue them. No one is proud of my passions, and now I’m not either.IMG_6101 They are dead, and I might as well be too. I wish I was. I wish I could lay down and never wake up in this stupid world. But I can’t. I would leave and find like minded souls, but THIS is my family. I have an obligation to feed and clothe them, to keep them alive and moving forward. So I stay. I try to love them. I DO love them, even though it means losing myself. I’m trying. I wake up every morning, I pull myself painfully out of merciful sleep and I put one foot in front of the other, living the same drudgery over and over and over again. I work every day instead of doing the things that I once loved, and every cent I make is sucked away  by the money sucking machine. No passion, no hope, no joy. I hope I can keep trudging long enough to get them through before I die. I am dying. Slowly. I’ve failed the child that I was. Not a single dream has come true. I’m tired of fighting, so I won’t anymore. I surrender to this bondage, the enslavement to the machine. Fuck it all.

Today I pushed you from me. 


  

For the second time in history.

In reality I can’t count how many times I’ve pushed you out.

But this time…

Oh this time it’s as sweet as it’s been bitter.

Cuz you’ll think of me too as time grows thicker.

Waiting on the Other Side

  Are you there? 

On the other side?

Watching me? Waiting?

I’m lonely.

Slowly returning to normalcy.

No longer hiding and scared.

Still can’t eat much.

Can’t sit down much.

I walk around sighing

playing with my hair

touching my face

hugging myself.

One second smiling,

The next I’m dying.

I’m a twitterpated tween.

Shake it off

Check my phone

My inbox is safely,

despairingly…empty.

Love songs are no longer meaningless, but tragic.

Attempting to push emotions

& crackling chemistry asside

Trying to bring back logic 

In order to decide.

Think RATIONAL thoughts Jeanette!

Reality is rarely like our fantasies.

Don’t jump in blind.

(Self Portrait by JETTE 1997)

Oblivious

WARNING! Kind of explicit, maybe a little TMI, but I gotta get things off my chest.

He wanted some tonight and I guessed I should give it to him. It is our 14th anniversary after all. God, it took a full three or four minutes just to get it in I was that unenthusiastic. I just lay there like a blow up doll with my face covered. Oh, and my saggy stretch marked belly too. It’s all I am really, all I feel like. A blow up doll and a paycheck, oh yea, and a pain in the ass. I can’t even pretend to feel anything anymore. I’m so utterly hopeless and lonely. Afterword I sat on the toilet quietly crying. He tossed me a towel. Eventually I got up and got into bed with my back to him. The sadness keept welling up and overflowing out my eyes. I tried to breathe as steady as possible so as not to sob. But it didn’t matter anyway. He fell asleep quickly. Completely oblivious. I wonder if I’ll ever feel the fire of love again?