reworking a piece
epiphany, must edit now
striving for perfect
Rewritten For Accuracy
reworking a piece
reworking a piece
epiphany, must edit now
striving for perfect
what would life look like
to think purposefully
being bombed by 50k thoughts
all of the time
unwelcome thoughts derailing my mind
never experienced before
sleeping is the closest i’ll come
and even then
as to what that peace feels like
maybe this is why i write
hoping the words fall out
instead of staying in my head
the chaos of thoughts
becoming organized on paper
Originally posted on I Write Her 7/8/2018. Published here with revisions.
my thoughts are unique
or are they
am i an original
or just a borrower from the inspirers of my past
i fear the quality words
will all have been spoken
i wonder when it’ll all have been said
will my voice be muted before i die
before i leave my mark…
lost in this mental quagmire
feeling it in my bones
thoughts run to escape the myths
created in my head
questions thick with sinew
yet the answers are willowy
should i pray
and light three candles
as the glum begins trickling in
my spirits growl
hearing the hum of birds
wishing for peace
in a world unbalanced
I’ve recently been thinking about alcoholism because of Gabriele’s post regarding the subject. His position tells me that he is against it. I am, too, since I grew up with it in my life, and it wasn’t pretty.
He has this to say, “Alcohol is like a hook .. they bite the most tempting palates. And as Saint Augustine said: Perfect abstinence is easier than perfect moderation,” which prompted my response, “It is a great quote for alcoholics as they are the most tempted, but I think he was referring to sex? Got me thinking – maybe someone who felt pressured to not have sex because of religion should not slut-shame others. LOL” It was more to indicate that St. Augustine probably wasn’t speaking in regards to alcohol.
But the post did get me thinking about alcoholism and my family’s struggles with it. In an alcoholic’s mind, their desire may be perfect moderation, but that will never happen because that is precisely the definition of the disease – being totally out of control. Maybe a better way of saying it would be, “Perfect abstinence is better than imperfect moderation?” Sure would have been nice if that thought had crossed a few minds in our family.
My dad was an alcoholic. For the most part, he was an absentee father, which was more the predominant injury than his drinking. Not that his drinking didn’t harm, as I recall quite a few instances from my childhood were problematic. My dad mostly pulled my mom into his drama. Us kids stayed away from it, but I do remember her being somewhat humiliated because of it. There was usually an awful lot of crying and hysterics going on; in one incident, she had ketchup all over her shirt.
My stepfather, divorced from my mom a long time ago, was a heavy drinker and, I would say, also an alcoholic. Booze always available and readily stocked in the globe-shaped liquor cabinet for him to imbibe whenever he chose. I remember stealing a nip or two from it myself when my sister and I first experimented with alcohol. Again, with regards to his drinking, humiliation seemed to be a recurring dynamic for my mom. One afternoon, I believe it was a Saturday, he’d already hit the stash pretty hard, and my mom’s leg became the receiving end of a glass shard from a glass he’d decided to slam down on the dining room table. I could hear her screams outside on the front lawn where I was playing with my friends. I remember them surrounding me because I was panicking and crying. Going into the house to confront him or maybe seeing that my mom was injured made him realize he’d gone a step too far, and he calmed down; I don’t know which one was the catalyst for peace from that point on. Regardless, I remember many instances where he put all our lives in danger with his drinking, primarily that he would always drive home drunk if we’d gone anywhere that he’d had a few. We were lucky that nothing unfortunate happened on the road.
After I left my home, I had several failed romantic relationships with alcoholics. In the early years of my adulthood, I’d indulged in risky behavior concerning drugs, but that stopped entirely in my mid-20s. When I became a mother at 29, even my drinking slowed down, although I never eliminated it. I remained a responsible social drinker with my second child. That is not to say that my kids or my husband, especially my friends, haven’t seen me ingest copious amounts of alcohol. Fun times were had, for sure! I paid for it the next day.
I have to be honest and say that I enjoy drinking alcohol for its effects on me. Other than weed, I don’t know of any other substance which can make me feel that relaxed or not have a care in the world. If weed were legal here in Kansas, I’m guessing I probably wouldn’t drink at all. Because let’s face it, alcohol is not good for you, and we all know that. Consuming large amounts of alcohol and being dependent on it will damage you physically and mentally, not to mention that it will impact your relationships with family and friends. It may not happen right away, but it will eventually if drinking goes beyond a social setting, beyond moderation, and is something you are addicted to.
At various stressful points over the years, I’ve worried about becoming an alcoholic. Genetically, my kids and I are predisposed to being alcoholics. For as much as I’ve enjoyed drinking, it’s always on my mind to be careful. I know things can quickly get out of hand. And I hope I never go down that path that the alcoholics in my life have. I think it would hurt too much to lose the ones I love and, for that matter, their respect for me as well. I wonder if my father and step-father ever thought about the damage their drinking caused to our connection, or if they even cared enough about it. I’m guessing not. But I’ll never know now since they are both dead.
It’s sad. Such a wasted opportunity.
they say only angels live high above
circling freely above us
gazing down on humanity
i wonder how to rise to this place
where mere men couldn’t touch me
and only the ethereal embrace me
to be free from pain
to float only in comfort
perhaps wings would look good on me
eyes, the past
and the present
collide in the thoughtful space within me.
beneath the rainforest shower head
deeply profound thoughts
bubble to the forefront of my mind
washes them away
carried on soap suds
per chance remembered
more likely forgot
that’s how thoughts go
released without more attention
they become a distant memory
just a dull feeling of knowing remains
we all ponder what is truth
not one of us with the same outlook
theories or hypothesis’
as varied as the lives which surround us
haven’t we all witnessed people
who have such a zest that life never seems to end
and have written a multitude of stories over the norm
possessing a zeal which feels absent in us
accomplishments being even fewer
and those at the end of a relatively long life saying “it’s enough”
with a need or a want to move on
having endured so much hardship and pain
just wanting it over with
or those who just plod along
living relatively simple
but meaningful, loving lives
contributing a harmony of sorts
if god is life and life is nature and nature dictates our decisions
then maybe it’s the sheer will to remain alive
that what drives us should guide us
deciding our ultimate purpose or names this so-called god we want to prove
this belief of having a much-needed pull
for when the chips are down
something we engage with
when it’s all too much
i would submit that sheer will is supreme
this internal force is a pressure to endure
and can be what rules us
wow, what a concept to get behind
they say you can manifest what you want
yeah, but not without effort
i would submit you are your own god
and that god is will
These thoughts were inspired by this conversation about belief systems between Ricky Gervais and Russell Brand. The bit about it starts at approximately 33:40, but feel free to listen to it in its entirety as it was an interesting conversation.
Inspired by Sadje’s Sunday Poser #1
Many things have gotten me through these last 58 years in no particular order of preference or admiration. A lot has tried to take me down too, but here I am anyways. 😉
In 2020, I’m grateful for my good friends even though the hugs, the conversations, and the interactions are few and far apart. Thankfully, my husband is my rock and a strong support person, as well as my boys, who I’m in contact with just about every day. I’m genuinely missing their hugs, though. But we’ll get there!
Working from home was the norm for me before Covid-19, so that hasn’t changed. I will always be immensely grateful I get to do my gig in the comfort of my surroundings. My “prison,” which some people might call it, is my she-cave, and it’s safe. It works for me!
My family and close friends have, until this point, been spared in this pandemic, and that calms me. I’m hoping that a vaccine will soon reduce the cases and the death rates we are currently seeing. I would be most grateful for that!
Even with all the health issues I’ve dealt with and am dealing with so far this year, I’m glad that I have a strong will and determination to overcome these challenges. Although my outlook has not always been positive, it has remained solidly in the corner of “you can get through this.” So, that’s something I’m eternally grateful to possess.
When I look back over the last three years, the WordPress community also gives me much to be thankful about. The friends I’ve made, the incredible work of others I get to read, the conversations – good and bad – I’ve had, all of it has made me a better person. I thank you all for that. Being able to create, to articulate my world and my thoughts, and do it in such a loving and supportive environment, well, I’ve not had it this good in a long time. I’m truly grateful for what I’ve gotten out of this writing journey.
Going back even further, I’m thankful to be here. Life is draining, but it’s also thoroughly excellent. So, I’m grateful to be able to take the good with the bad. Here’s to the next moments that await me. 🙂