Sense

l can't seem to make Sense of it all.
So different than I had envisioned. 
Even as a child Even as a teenager. Even as an adult.
Even as old.

Would Sense include Dreams?
Or Wants or Needs or Sperm Whales Sleeping?

Just as I Am, Billy Graham sang.
Just as I am, yes, to the sky and He so open armed, I am, 
but someone else is making more sense?

don't think,
don't act,
don't move,
and fundamentally, finally 
don't talk.

If only I could stop all this thinking, maybe I could stop this telling.
Telling about the house dream and the round love dream.

Quiet isn't MY goal!
Not when I remember the sperm whales video.
Oh, NO.

The Beach

The Beach

I dreamt of the sea

where we used to go.

My father’s house,

Then my mother’s house.

Then someone, I don’t know,

who didn’t tear it down for a mansion.

Could’ve,

with the money it cost at the end of us.

But left it.

I dream often, of the front, long beach.

stretching out so far

into the waves.

It’s warm, the air, the sand, in my dreams.

Even the water.

I swim in the big soft waves, not terrifying,

as they would  really be.

Wonderfully warm and familiar.

I duck so to not be hammered down

to the creamy sand, often looking so innocent, 

not as in a dream reality,

heavy, slamming,

hard as a rock.

Even a tidal wave, a huge dangerous wave,

transparent turquoise and cream foaming,

somehow roars high over the house,

Gently. Then gone, as if not really there.

But I am quietly happy.

To be at the beach

Looking for my mom

Looking out for my dad

My sister beautiful brown and laughing.

My brother kind and surfing.

Then the dream turns to my oldest sibling,
dream ending,

taking care of the lunatic in the house at night in summer with phosphorescence. 

Maybe now the dreams will stop.

But I will miss their gentle warm lacy place.

retiring pressure

Where is peace in solitude?
Where is the travel, the joy?
The neat and tidy?

I can't find it in dark, worrying.
promises each night,
then each morning,
then after I water, check my phone, sew, craft, read, rest, pick up the remote.

Household promises left undone.

Ow, muscles tense, ache, grow weak.
Thinking slows, time draws long into dusk.

Work?
But nothing seems doable to an old woman.

So I rest.
after I water,
after computer,
after sewing,
after pens and glue,
after reading,
after rest.

Appreciation for those little ones saves that day, then I rest again.

64

doing nothing?
I'm told it is my prerogative. 

I got a tiny, syrupy taste of grace,
doing nothing for freedom's sake.

shame hardens like old frosting.
fear cuts a big piece out of birthday cake.

who will pay our day to day?
someone says he will, spouts numbers,
pleased with investments in Wall Street.

Doctor for 20.
Rx for 10.
1500 or more extra

House in 7 yrs 
except to insure

AARP:
"Social Security prevents starved, homeless,
not all of it."

In my head scary scenes wind up into stringy, random balls of yarn 
until the room is filled.
becomeing heavy,
matted weight gathering light til it's dark.
I'm mashed.
each day.
yearning for sweets.


 

A feeling, often called bored, is not.

It's not the correct descriptive adjective for the feeling called:

Bored.

Sitting around.
Donnwanna read,
donnwanna go somewhere,
donnwanna do anything.

My head is so bored I can't even concentrate on daydreams.
They seem to be flipping in my heart like old tvs in the 50's.
Flipping and static turn darker when the early evening descends,
announcing a flimsy end to a whole day wasted.
Through the day the fog hovered behind my eyes like a coming migraine,
and now settles on shoulders, sore for ages, shoulders getting worse,
probably needing a doctor's attention.
But that's too boring to care.

So, boring is not so boring.
Rather tense, looming, bitter.
Reeking of failure.

Looking forward to 8:00.
Earliest I can go to bed with no one knowing.

I'm miserable.

My Brother asked, does your Everything Hurt?

I've been thinking

*Shoulder hurts.relax body
ice
Tylenol

*heart hurts.
let go
breathe
be here now

*Head blurry.
rest
accept

*Fingertips tingling.
don't worry
don't dwell

*Forgetful.
so what

*Indecisive.
who cares, I'm retired

*Moody.
settle and rest
meditate that
I'm loved beyond all understanding.

*Procrastinating.
make a list
do the first thing

Not the worst week, but

Can I just say this?
I did not go to the hospital.

1. did not have work
2. did not have children to take care of
3. have an amazing, understanding, supportive husband
4. friends helped me hang on. listened to me cry, to my memories
5. understood CPSTD and brain scars from childhood maltreatment
6. knew meds could solve the breakdown
7. went horseback riding

I think if I stayed home, didn't do anything, I'd be ok.
That's what I think, that's what I want sometimes, 
Fool that I am, fool.

I am mentally ill.
I never have said it.

Breaking through denial hurts,
but there it is.