That familiar ache in my heart
Lets me know I’m connected
To the truth of my life, to my soul
It’s where I sing from
It’s where I dream
From my heart, I can never go wrong
Heart-Centered
living life out loud
A New Day
Funny how a word comes in to the collective consciousness.
Yesterday, I wrote about the loss of The Daily Post Daily Word Prompt.
I said posting daily taught me that done is better than perfect. That sometimes I will feel “meh” about what I write, and that is ok.
I asked readers for help!
And the wonderful Suzi suggested Cyranny.
And guess what the word prompt for today was? “Meh!”
Which is how I feel about today’s word prompt.
Meh.
And here I am, posting anyway.
Because the power is in the doing of it.
I could judge myself out of ever sharing my voice, my work.
Or I can take the risk. Lay it on the line. No matter what.
So here I am. Day one post-Daily Post.
Feeling meh.
But taking action away.
(Or maybe because of.)
Another One Bites the Dust
Today, I mourn the loss of yet another presence in my life.
I am bereft.
I have been working off daily word prompts for about a year that The Daily Post has generously provided.
They have given me an anchor to my days…especially helpful last year at this time when I was having to stay close to home much of the time for health reasons.
It helped me feel connected to the world and to my creativity to post once a day.
It ended up teaching me so much about creativity. About how just doing it is much better than trying to get it “right” or good.
It gave my perfectionism a real run for its money. I had to let each day’s post go, however I felt about its value.
Sometimes I loved what the word prompt prompted. Memories or associations I’d forgotten or never even known I had.
Sometimes I felt totally “dry” and annoyed at the word. Sometimes I’d be shocked when such a prompt led me to an unexpected and wonderful-to-explore place.
I learned to live with posts I wrote that I thought were total drivel. Posts I secretly thought were brilliant. Meh posts.
Thank you The Daily Post for this amazing year and all you have brought to my writing.
I get attached to things.
I’ve grown accustomed to The Daily Post Daily Word Prompts! I had no idea they were ending as of Friday!
I’ve had panic since realizing they were moving on. What will I do? How will I survive?
I have found wonderful readers and other bloggers to follow from TDP. I loved reading the myriad variations off a word!
I feel adrift, at sea. Alone in the great ocean of blogs.
To all of “you” out there: do you know of any similar sites?
I take solace today in Oleta Adam’s prolific rendition of “Everything Must Change,” which I hear in my head every time I lose a good thing in my life to change. She gets me through every time.
At least that never changes.
Retrospectively Yours
Looking back now
It’s all crystal clear
I didn’t know it then
When we were “just hanging out”
But it was on
My heart was woke
(It just took the rest of me
Awhile to catch up)
Untouchable
You can break a promise
You can break a heart
You can break a creature’s spirit
Or a body part
But you can’t break a person’s soul
It can’t be touched by human hand
You may’ve broken me in most ways
But my soul you can’t reach or understand
Shallow Depths*
Deep within
There is a certain part of me
Who stills believes
Life would be so much better
If I’d been born beautiful:
A super model, a movie star
Shallow, I know,
But that part of me’s convinced
Nothing sways her
She doesn’t care that you
Can’t cherrypick and you’d get
All their shit too (and that we all have shit)
She is absolutely sure
To be adored for your looks
Would beat the rest
That being loved for a face or body
Is more than enough for her
And she won’t hear otherwise
This part of me
Would make a deal with a thousand devils
It would sell my soul
For the chance to find out
If life really is better for the super stars and models
I’ve given up trying
To win her over to Self-Love Land
She cannot comprehend adult logic
So I hold her hand
And I say “I hear you,” then lead her into the deeper waters to play
Repost Inspired by The Daily Post Word Prompt: famous
* I am visiting my hometown, and of course, all my “old stuff” is stirred up as if I was right back in high school, feeling so lacking. Back to a time when I based my whole self worth on my appearance. To a time I prayed to become famous so that one day everyone would regret rejecting me. It is amazing how quickly it all comes flooding back.
Soulmate
I’ve been looking for you forever
My sister, my twin
The parts of me who flew away
From the pain that was inescapable
Unendurable
You left
And I went numb
With shock, to survive
And then I forgot
You’d ever existed
And just felt emptiness
Where your life had once filled my heart
I cobbled a self out of what of me remained
And tried to find my way
But when you are missing key parts of your soul
Life always feels like it has not quite begun
So I’ve lived a half life
I’ve been like a ghost
While my real self was in limbo somewhere
And now here I am
Calling all of me back
My doppelgänger come home to roost
I feel my heart fill
I recognize what is at the same time foreign
Like meeting a twin separated at birth
Who I am now makes sense
No more searching the ends of the earth
As Charged
Yes, I am
Guilty of loving you
Lock me up
Throw away the key
I’ll do my time
Give me
A full sentence
Please
(Thanks to you)
I have been operating under the following assumptions:
That I am plain, average and dull
That I am unmemorable, forgettable
That to surrender to pleasure is a death sentence
That love becomes humiliation overnight
That vulnerability ends in shame
But I am finally reframing these beliefs
I am choosing to find new truths:
I am lovely, unique and vibrant
I am memorable, unforgettable
Pleasure is safe and begets more pleasure
Love always elevates and is never wrong or cruel
Vulnerability is my birthright and there is no shame in it ever
So you see, I got this
(No thanks to you, btw)
Disco Dreams
She could hardly breathe, her heart was jumping so high in her chest.
After all of the preparations, all the effort, here she was. Dressed in the new outfit she’d painstakingly chosen at the discounted designer clothes store, she felt almost pretty.
She’d managed to find an outfit she could afford with her babysitting money: a pair of green drawstring pants that miraculously fit her pear-shaped, chubby body and a bright orange, sleeveless terry cloth top.
Her short hair was styled in its usual two round parallel curls on either side of her face which her brother had nicknamed “doo doo curls.” Her short bang unfortunately only accentuated the width of her face, but there was nothing to be done about that.
The freckles that sprinkled her nose and cheeks from summers spent at the pool were the only color on her face.
She’d had her parents drop her off at the club where the party was well into things. She knew it would be painful to walk into it. Better to be in a crowd than risk being seen too clearly.
She entered and walked in quickly, grateful for the darkened atmosphere. It was a disco-themed party for the 7th grade dance club, and so everyone was dressed accordingly and the venue was an actual disco. Instead of alcohol, soda was served.
She went from room to room, seeking two things: the few friends she had that might be there too, and him.
She found the friends and nervously stood, Sprite in hand, the condensation from the outside of the white plastic cup dripping down her hand.
She sucked the inside of her mouth along the braces that lined her upper and lower teeth, finding a strange comfort in the metal that was at the same time so maddening to her.
Through the pulsating lights, she saw him finally: Scott Prewitt, in all his glory. He was the most popular boy in school, blonde and tan. She sat behind him in Spanish class where, amazingly, he’d spoken to her a few times. Not just to pass papers back or anything. He’d made little jokes and seemed to enjoy her laugh.
She had looked forward to this afternoon for weeks, imagining that here, in the lights, in her new clothes, he’d maybe talk to her, which would be incredible.
She forced herself to smile and step forward from the shadows into the light, even though she was so nervous she could barely breathe and felt dizzy.
And just as she did, Scott Prewitt looked right at her and smiled and waved, his face beaming. She couldn’t believe it! It was happening! Her dreams were coming true.
Finally, everyone would see her differently. Because Scott Pruitt saw her, they’d value her, too. Everything would change.
She waited, breathlessly, as he walked towards her, her cheeks almost aching from smiling.
Just as she was saying “Hi Scott,” eyes twinkling, he walked passed her and grabbed Susie Moore, the most popular girl in 7th grade, in a hug, which made Susie squeal.
For what seemed like a lifetime but was actually several awkward seconds, she stood there as her “Hello Scott” hung in the air anemically before being dissipated by Susie’s squeal.
She stepped back into the shadows as she felt the familiar, hot flush of shame shoot down the length of her body.
She drained herself of feeling, determined not to cry. “That will teach you not to hope,” she said to herself as she pinched her arm, punishing herself for thinking things could ever be any different.
She found the restroom as quickly as she could, and there she remained for the full agonizing 40 minutes until her parents came to pick her up again.
Once home she sought and found numbing comfort in a pint of vanilla Haagen Dazs ice cream, and fell asleep into a full-stomach-sugar-induced coma.
Her hope did not have it so easy. A large piece of hers had fallen out of her heart and onto the floor of the disco, where Scott Pruitt and Susie Moore danced across it over and over again until it became unrecognizable.
Beyond the Skinny Branches 