More Wonder

And I can't find the words, though I know they are there.  I fumble about, clumsily, periodically sending perfectly good ideas crashing to the floor, bursting into a million pieces because I'm scared.  Unsure of too much it feels.  Straining to see the woman reflected in a mirror mere feet away.

And I worry about too much I'm sure.  I wonder if broadcasting my fears and inadequacies is foolish or helpful to anyone who might come across this blog and relate.  

I stand in a doorway, before a room of thousands of small fragile things and I wonder if I am careful and brave enough to enter.  Especially as I leave a room full of wrecked notions of self behind me.

Believe

And this moment is new.

And I am brave.

And if I fail, I will get back up and try again.

Because I cannot change what has already happened.

And sometimes the very act of carrying on is revolutionary.

Because courage brightens the cave fear would have me hide, live, and die in.

Getting By

A Practice in Getting By:

Step one:  Let everyone (spouse and children) fend for themselves.

Step two:  Ignore pleas for help and/or cries unless life threatening.

Step three:  Note that despite not intervening, the world continues to spin.

Step four:  Repeat steps 1-3 regularly, and GET BY.

Warning: While personal satisfaction may occur, said advice does not protect against spousal alienation.

Anger Unexplained

And the fury runs deep,
Boils up,
Topples over.

No one to blame,
no source of pain.
Just anger, unexplained.

Conversations

Me: italicized text  My 3 y/o daughter: regular text

[Describing a small cut on her finger.]

It looks like something you jump on.

A trampoline?

No a jumping thing that you ride on.

A trolley? - you jump on and off of those right???

No, no.

A skateboard, a bicycle?

No, it's like a bicycle.

I don't know babes, I'm sorry.

It's like this *jumps around holding pretend handle bars*

OH, a pogo stick!

YES, YES a pogo stick! *with the biggest most satisfying smile*

Don't know if she's ever even seen a pogo stick.  I hope I never forget that smile, I hope her life is filled with the deep satisfaction and joy of being understood by those she loves.

Happy International Women's Day

And daily I try to silence her.

The raging anti-feminist voice inside of me.

She who devalues what I do,

Condemns me for what I don't,

And never has a kind word to say about my work

At home

Or otherwise.

She who questions the very implications of such a label,

Self affixed, despite historical racism,

Despite marginalization,

Despite the potential for future oppression:

Feminist.

I hear her.  Respect her more than I should.

But I know she's wrong. 

I know that my choices, my values, the labels I choose to adorn

Are not accidental, misguided, or improper.

My life is my own,

My love freely distributed.

I know that with each day comes knowing.

Recognition of one's self unlike the day before.

Today I say, 

I am honoured to share in the sisterhood of woman.

May I always act in the love, generosity, and determination 

That sisterhood engulfs and inspires within me.

Meet

And if only things were so easy as grabbing hands, holding tight.

Placing soft kisses that relax furrowed brows.

Exchanging looks that know it all and need not explanation, nor apology.

Instead silence grows.

Sadness creeps.

You and I fail to meet.

Gripped

And again we circle back to fear.
You'd think I'd recognize the shape of his head,
or her signature gait, from the back
as many times as I have rounded this block.

But a tune being hummed distracts me.
In the distance I see the answer I've been seeking taking shape
and its by accident that I stumble upon fear again.
Having not recognized the suffocating scent of self doubt
until already surrounded with nowhere to flee.

I mistake dawn for dusk,
the beginning for the end.
Blink a couple of times to regain my focus,
retrieve reading glasses to properly see
the blurred vision moving slowly in front of me
hoping I am quick enough to grasp it before it is gone forever.

Today I am lucky.
The doctor tells me I have eyes like my father
and while I am yet unsure whether that is a blessing or curse,
I look on.
I take hold of the vision, clinch it close to my chest
and walk along with fear.
Knowing that the first steps past fear are the hardest,
That as I move out of paralysis, fear has no choice but to loosen its grip.