Thursday, February 15, 2007

Used to be

Growing was difficult to say the least.

My step dad divorced my mom and she went a little off the deep end. She didn't have a job, and was mentally unable to get one. We lost the house she and I were renting. She was willing to sleep at the mission or where ever she found a park bench. I was not willing to live like that, so the age of fourteen I found myself on my own. I got a job (had to fib about my age) and lived with families from my church and school friends.

Between the ages of 14 and 18, I moved 18 times. I became good at packing and moving. I kept things in boxes and only unpacked the essentials I needed for everyday. As I got tired of moving things became less important to me as it got more and more difficult to lug stuff around. This caused me to have a hard time putting down roots. To this day I have a hard time thinking of a home as mine, or even putting my things out. I actually still have things in boxes. One of these days, I want to really feel like I am home. I am going to take every last thing I own out and never keep boxes again.

These four years of my life were some of the loneliest of my life. I used writing and music as a means and release of not holding in the anger and the pain. Most of my writing was poems, but I also wrote some short stories. Some of the people I have shared them with say they are very sad and very dark. Yes, they are, they are a reflection of some very dark thoughts, sadness, and despair. But this was my release. I was able to go on about life, function and not fall apart or explode.

Having said that I want to share another poem I wrote. This is one that my English teacher asked me to submit for our class anthology. This one is a bit darker than the other one I shared in my other post. I clearly remember the day this was written. I felt very lonely and empty. I was thinking about my childhood and the abuse I had endured.

Unbearable Reality
Single, salty tear creeps down,
leaving behind a wet trail.
Hot and bitter,
emotions erupt.
Fires of anger, drowned by fears.
Pain fills the slaughtered soul.
Billows of coldness surround.
Time can't heal the memories.
Hand of pain,
strikes again.
Invisible, unbearable scars.
Thoughts of intense agony.
Pleas that fall upon ears of the silent.
Detachment of mind eases the pain,
but only for a time.
Walls built up, only to be torn down.
Protection can not be found.
Darkness encloses.
Images swirl,
blur of the day.
Eyes grow heavy,
slumber encompasses.
Struggles begin once again.
Cold sweat,
gasping for air.
Only a dream,
but reality holds its context.
I promise, I will also share some happy stuff I wrote and I have started writing again and when I finish something I will share it.


Dorky Dad said...

18 TIMES??? You win. I thought I moved a lot when I was a kid. Moving can definitely be lonely. It makes me appreciate my stable adulthood even more.

Chucky said...

I already told ya what I think of that poem.

It seems like I changed schools that many times, but I didn't.

Moving sucks, no other way about it. Oh and I get to move again, this time without a truck.

Cazzie!!! said...

First time visit to your blog. Your writing is so vivid, it paints such a clear picture of your frame of mind at the time.
Writing is for sure the way to get things off your chest.
I hope, taht one day soon, you will find a place you can call home, and unpack all them boxes!!!

A Better Person said...

I'm so sorry for whatever happening to you back then. But, sometimes that bitter moment can make you creative, in a way.

I love your writing. I would also love to read the happy stuff.


Wizened Wizard said...

So vivid and sad of content, and so well expressed.

I wonder if pain is more easily poured onto a page than joy, and I say that not to discredit in any way. You wrote an excellent poem. I look forward to reading more - hopefully at least some from happier times.

Thank you.

susan said...

I find it rather amazing that you managed to come through your childhood so well. You were a tough kid and made some remarkable choices at an age known for making bad ones.

whimsicalnbrainpan said...

Wow and I thought I had moved a lot as a kid! You are a very strong person to go through what you did and come out of it so well adjusted.

I like your poem and I'm thrilled to hear that you are writing more. Keep at it!

Kati said...

What the others said!!!! I was an air-force brat, and I also thought I'd moved a lot. (Of course, really only 3 times, but I went to 3 different kindergardens, 2 different schools for first grade, and changed schools another 4 times by the time I graduated HS.)

I'm amazed by well you've overcome the obstacles in your life. You've got a steady job, you've got a house of your own evidently, and you're not a drug addict, best I can tell. I'd say you did a pretty darn decent job of growing up healthy, even if life wasn't the greatest. Not to diminish what you've gone through, but you should be pretty proud of what you've become. Wishing you happy times in the coming future to outnumber the unhappy times of your past.

And, incredible poetry, BTW!

Anne said...

Wonderful poem. I'm sorry to hear that you endured so much. Sorry, you've filled me with so much emotion, but I find myself speechless. Thank you for sharing that.

Em said...

A terrific poem...and a very sad experience growing up. I hope you find peace and that sense of really being 'home'.

Anonymous said...

Wow, I had no idea you moved around so much. I know the feeling of wanted to unpack and throw the boxes out forever though. Your poem was great to read. I definitely hope to read more of it!

Chalice said...

What a beautiful person you are.. As sad as this post was (in a way), I am not sad for you. Look at you.. What an incredible person you have become through so much adversity.. Its a milestone and something you should be very proud of..

I, myself, still have things in boxes for the very same reason you do. Every single time I read your blog I see much of myself.. Wait we aren't related are we??? **kidding** Sorry had to throw a little joke in there...

Beautifully intense poem.. I would love to read more.. All of mine are so similar to yours in nature..

Take care of yourself and NEVER forget to smile :)


Jay said...

That poem was very powerful and emotional.

For the longest time everything I owned would fit into my little hatchback car. Sometimes I wonder if that was better or worse than having a bunch of junk just taking up space.

Enemy of the Republic said...

You described something tough. I respect that. And I too, will write happy stuff next week, God willing!. Thanks for coming by to see me. I value it.

Baron Ectar said...

Wow - my friend you have had such a hard life - I admire your passion and love for your life now and am in awe at your incredible might and power as an adult to be able to write about this!

skinnylittleblonde said...

I bet if you get to a point where you are unboxing'll have a special keepsake box to keep your older, darker pull them out & remind yourself how far you've come. My dad would always say 'perseverance shall pay off' and it does seem like he's right ;)
I love your poetry & the fact that you share it. LOL, I usually only write poems in my dankest moments & typically don't share.
Writing, like drawing, singing, running, dancing, biking & so on is a great release...