Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Monday, February 16, 2009

#99 How Do I Feel?


Am I comfortable?
Too hot? Too cold?
Hungry? Tired?
Sad? Happy?,

I wrack my brain. What do they want to hear? What is the right answer? I scarcely inhabit my body so I know that I cannot find the answer there.

Are they too hot, hungry and sad? I'll agree with them.
Are they too cold, tired, but happy? I'll be that too.

In the face of these kinds of questions, I need to come up with a response quickly before the panic of unknowing begins to show. The stunned silence, the furrowed brow, the stammering does not make a good impression. "I actually don't know what I feel," is not believable to most people.

It is only in the extremes that I become aware and then I am no good at naming the feelings. Scared, panic stricken, terrified. My body can only identify fear feelings. Everything else I have to guess at or, like a chameleon, try to blend in with those around me.

Friday, February 13, 2009

#98 hanging in there

they tell me that
old age is not for sissies
i'm here to tell you that
neither is mental illness


an uphill struggle
carrying the weight of the world
battling demons
shaking off crisis after crisis
putting the pieces back together
one more time

and going on

i know now that
i will never give up the fight
too much hard work
too many tears shed
too much brutal pain
too many times
dragging myself in off the ledge
to let it all be for nothing

so if it takes guts
to grow old
i think i have what it takes