let it be over

Fear, a sneaky bastard
infiltrating every thought
sapping joy, it shows no mercy
overtaken, ready or not.

Fear, a hellish meal
push that plate away
stomp, scream, shore up your mind
overcome, this cannot stay

Fear, the grandest canyon
peace on the other side
jump on off, open the chute
over it, you’ll meet life


that hand

I jump three times and then hit the open air.

Falling into that perfect dive off the high board.
I slice the water, straight down to bottom. Execute the flip…
But I don’t come up.
A strong hand is holding me down, pressing on my head.
I fight. I struggle, past denial. I hold my breath. I stay calm. I think.
And then I push, but that hand wants what it wants. I am stuck.
I move past the panic, past the fear, past the primal instinct to simply breathe.

I think.

The hand that holds me down is my nemesis…

And, somehow, also my comfort.

I move past the thinking. Until I only feel. I feel the burn in my lungs and the suffocating weight of the water.

The strong will to break surface resurrects. I oblige, and give another struggle.

But that hand… That hand keeps me still… Forcing my compliance.
I close my eyes, knowing I cannot win. I command the world to go dark. I relax. I give in.

But now, I want that hand to push me further down. I want that hand to keep me here until I am nothing.

I sink, sink, sink… Below the bottom…

Underneath everything there is.

In this place, there is no need for oxygen, no need for thought, no need for anything.

Except for that hand. I need that hand. Because that hand has become my world, my anchor, my demise, my Savior.

My Master.

The sinking, the letting go, the giving over, the death… It is all the same.

It is all peace.
And the very moment that the water steals my life, is the same moment the hand yanks me to the surface.

That hand doesn’t leave my head. That hand has ultimate control. That hand decides my fate. Forever. Plunging me into the depths or lifting me into the clouds.

That hand.

This life.

It is time.


To live.


*photo found on Pinterest with no credit given*

remember… a lonely little whine

Remember when you were the youngest in your network of friends to have a baby? 

Remember how everyone stuck around for the first few months? 

Remember when you were the first to get married? 

Remember when your life split from everyone else’s so drastically? 

Remember how isolated you felt? 

No? Well, I do. 

Remember the struggles to be the young mom with the bright hair? Remember the looks and the whispered judgement? Remember finding one friend? Remember that deteriorating? Remember finding another friend? Remember that falling apart, too? Remember, accidentally, finding a friend? Remember that dwindling after seven years? 

Remember the things you had in common? The babies, the toddlers, the kiddos, and the long days at home? The silly struggles of boredom and laundry and errands? The coffee runs? 

Remember being alone again? Remember the moves? Remember the bullshit?

Remember the despondence you felt? Remember the feeling that no one would ever get you or understand? Remember leaning so hard on your Husband? Remember finding a final friend?

Remember?! I remember. 

I’m visiting there again. 

My kids are much older. I am newly 40. I started back to school in winter. I have a child with some depression/anxiety issues that we see a counselor for. I have another child in college full time, but always has job issues. I have another child, well, his shit will come. And everyone I ever knew just isn’t here in this place with me. Everyone has a different set of circumstances and I’m fucking alone. 

When your kids get to be of “a certain age”, the socially acceptable thing is for mothers to go back to work. And everyone I know, they have. But I have not (a two-day-a-week job with kids doesn’t much count), by choice. We decided long ago that it was MORE important for me to be here as the kids got older, not less. It’s not a common view. I’m comfortable with my position and Sir prefers I don’t work (I help Him with His business when I can), but let me tell you… Today I am feeling that isolation. 

Conversations about mental health drop off mid-thought… God forbid someone gets uncomfortable. My moaning about my chores seems a little selfish so I cut it out. Mentioning trips and stores and all the things, doesn’t seem fair, so I shut it. But it doesn’t leave a lot to talk about… 

There’s just no common ground. It has become clearer and clearer that everything is forever changed.

Mostly, I’m good in my own little world. Today, though, I’m dealing with some heavy shit and all the people are doing whatever they do. 

Our worlds don’t collide. They won’t anymore. 

Oh, but remember when they did?!

I do.