My weekend got eaten by bears!
Not really,
but it did get eaten
and I agreed to it
and now I am sick. Surprise!
But mainly I can’t decide if it’s worse that I didn’t get a weekend or a vacation
that I had been so dearly looking forward to…
or if it’s worse that I allow external circumstances to take over
because I don’t want people to think bad things about me. Familiar?
Wanting to please and fear of not pleasing
winning out over the hard-earned/hard-learned truths I’ve committed to.
I guess it’s all the worst part.
Because I am more depleted now than when I set out to vacation
and I want to be cared for
and that job is mine
and I am not good at it
yet.
Yet.
Notes.
- The above is what we call a woem. Woem!
- A woem is a poem of woe and grumbles.
- It’s something we invented at the Whine Bar in my Kitchen Table program. Full name: Crankypants McGrumbleBug’s Kvetchtastic Whine Bar!
- Its purpose is to make you feel better through writing it.
- Or at the very least to get some of the woe out of your head.
- Because when you acknowledge pain and grief, and give it room to exist and be legitimate, something moves.
- And usually you also notice something interesting too. Side effect!
- The thing I noticed was about how there aren’t any bears. Kind of like how on some level I know that there is no shoe.
- My pain and resentment was my stuff, as it pretty much always is.
- The other thing I noticed was about YET.
- I am a fan of yet.
- It takes the sting out of blame.
- It says, “Okay, so maybe I’m not there yet but I’m working on it and I’m in a process.”
- It says, “I’m here. Right now. And here is okay because there is a trajectory in play, and this is where I’m at with it.”
- Yet opens up possibility and spaciousness.
Play with me? And comment zen for the giant blanket fort.
- If you would like to write a woem (or musings about YET), go for it.
- You can share it if you like but you totally don’t have to.
- The brilliant thing about woems is that they don’t have to be written especially well, or at all. Because that’s not the point. The point is interacting with woe.
- The fountain doesn’t judge. Woes or grumbles can be tiny or large. They all count.
- A woem about toe-stubbing is just as valid as a woem about deep grief and loss.
- We all have our stuff. We’re all working on our stuff.
- We take responsibility for our stuff and we make room for other people to have their stuff.
- We make this a safe and welcoming space by not telling each other what to do, how to think or how to feel.
Kiss!
Follow
(this turned out to be a lot longer than expected. apologies in advance!)
Today I am de-lurking
to post a woem
about a monster that was hiding
until this past Saturday
It was particularly angry
and did NOT like the tequila I offered
(almost threw it right back)
At least the lime was tasty
The next day I introduced myself properly
And we have agreed to start talking
I think the worst is over
Things seem to be
improving
Especially when long walks in the sunset are involved.
*bows*
Postscript – writing this made SO many lightbulbs turn on. And also made me cry. Thank you.
I am supposedly not eating sugar.
All the cool kids are doing it,
It seems.
Since I began to supposedly not eat sugar,
I ate
a scoop of ice cream and
four packets of Israeli chocolate.
I want some more of that
Israel chocolate.
I don’t know if my supposedly not wanting to eat sugar
is actually what it is
or a manifestation of some inner desire
to impose austerity and order and enlightenment
on my extravagant, chaotic, unenlightened self.
Those might be monsters talking
or angels.
Maybe both.
Woem! I adore this idea, and I think I might have to play along. Because I have been sad for a while, and some of the fears are ridiculous (but still legitimate!), and others are
I do not want to be sick.
Or, if I must be sick, why can I not be the kind of sick that others can see,
and that I can respect?
I dreamt of having a business of my own – and now I do.
I nurture it.
But it will not fly when I am sick.
If I cannot be well, I will lose my dream.
Will I have to return to a Real Job
-just for the sick pay?
I work hard for my dream, and get worse.
I rest, and my dream withers.
Our floor is growing,
into peaks and valleys
the wood is swelling
and the mold is spreading
The sink was dripping
to feed the floor
Drip from the sink
so the floor can drink
Grandparents fixed the sink
Spending a hundred
When we only had to spend three
Bolivia now, says my grandma
Whiled the sink drips
Not yet, not yet, school first
Bolivia now, she says again
Lots of monsters
money, sovereignity,and shoes
My decisions
Belong to me
How do I teach that lesson
to others
who think that
my decisions
belong to them?
Do I need to teach that my decisions are mine?
Can I just ignore the attempts
at stealing them away?
I let my decisions be stolen once,
but not again.
I called a girl to bring me lunch.
It has
not come.
In the meantime I have eaten
2 hard boiled eggs
1 apple
some walnuts
Maybe that is lunch.
I want to do stuff!
fun happy stuff!
and nobody will let me!
i have to let me!
how can i let me!!
…. it is probably not by moping.
i am hungry!
how will i feed me!
also not by moping.
what am i going to dooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
…..be still i am sure the answer will come soon.
(@Alison – That woem speaks for me too, I think!)
Today everything is stupid
Because I lost my swing.
No, I dove out of my swing
Left it
Blowing
In the breeze
Wandered down the street
asking people to sit in it
Throwing power away from me
like hot coals.
I won’t be responsible for this!
I won’t be happy or content!
I will be whatever you want from me.
Please, just tell me who to be.
And then I can resent you for it.
Energy, where art thou?
Love this. The post, and the comments!
And thank you for posting in links. I re-read Resistance Mouse, got to the part that said “support is everywhere” and it was like somebody smacked me. My woem was going to be about my current state of RUN AWAYYYYYY! Which hasn’t been serving me. I need to start reaching out, which is hideously hard for me. But at least I know what I’m dealing with!
I don’t get it.
Not just yet. Maybe never.
Maybe that’s OK.
Identity. Shoes.
Sometimes they’re my own shoes.
I love YET. I found yet when I was learning swordfighting (nerdlet that I am) and heard myself saying “i can’t” and “i’m not any good at…”
and decided I had to turn it around. So for me it was about skills- I can’t block that shot…yet.
Now I use it all the time when talking to my students.
powerful Mojo, Yet.
xoxo!
Perfect timing. Woems.
I need to be somewhere safe from flying shoes. I know in ultimate reality, there is no shoe, but I am not there yet, and in the meantime, “No” means “No”.. Not acceptable to throw shoes at me. So I’ve worked really hard internally to get to “No, you may not throw shoes at me”, and to choose to remove myself from the trajectory of shoes, and then I am treated as if I am Mean for choosing self care and peace. I am expected to Pretend there are no shoes flying, in order to take care of the person lobbing the shoes, who pretends they do not thow shoes.
I think this is called “Idiot Compassion”, otherwise known as enabling. Crazy-making. or as someone really brilliant once described it, “Sit down, shut up, and be who I need to you be, so that I can be comfortable.”
I want to be Kind, rather than Nice. Kind lives in alignment and practices self care. Kind is clear and spacious within–and with others. Kind is respected. When the throwing of shoes is the social millieu, Kind disengages, and takes another path. Nice pretends she has not been hit by flying shoes, even as she is being bruised by them, because she hates conflict and needs others to like her. Nice takes the body blow and keeps smiling, even as she becomes dark and afraid inside, waiting for the next shoe to fall. And when Nice chooses to be Kind instead, she finds blood dripping on her feet, and realizes that this time, a knife was thrown, not just a shoe. Because in a culture where shoes are routinely thrown, saying “No more throwing shoes” upsets the patterns for everyone.
Boy, did this one hit a nerve! Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!
Into the Fountain with all of it. Whew!
And on to a Poem by Mary Oliver, The Journey, which has been hanging around my desk….
“One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though their voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
‘Mend my life!’
each voice cried…..
“and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save the only life you could save.”
Thank you so much for this Havi. It could not have come at a better time.
Now I am going to get up off my tush and do what I need to do: Be Kind, rather than Nice.
Our internet is down!
Oh no!
Our internet is down,
And so
I must compose
This woem of woes
On my small cell phone.
(Expect typos.)
My sweetie is so stressed and sad
Without the internet.
He’s very good at fixing things
But hasn’t fixed this yet.
Will we connect tomorrow?
Will a new modem help?
(Help!)
Oh I need a woem! Here’s mine;
Why did I go on a vacation that is a road trip
When I hate driving?
I knew my little car would get sick on this trip
and it did.
I fixed it though.
But I am still worried I have stressed it out.
Actually I am worried I have stressed myself out.
What kind of vacation is it where you wander
from place to place
spending money you do not want to spend
for ugly food
and gas for a thirsty car
and staying in old hotels
that might be haunted
so you can’t sleep?
And I did this to please my niece
who cannot be pleased
and who can never be alone
so I can never be alone
which is something I need
and who cannot pay her share
and who cannot drive
and who is full of woe all the time.
(I could teach her to write a woem!)
I will need a vacation
from my vacation
but instead I have to work
which is another subject of woe.
For later.
I need a new relationship with Yet.
That is all.
Napping, napping and more napping always comes first when sickness is around. Hope you feel better soon. Sending much love and rest your way. : )
Last night I gazed upon a sky,
As day was veiled by mist and shade;
I knew the dream was just a lie,
And watched the beautiful vision fade.
In youth we dreamed the world was ours,
And a single life would last forever;
But a man grows heavy with regret,
As the years pass by in a single hour.
Remind me of my childish thoughts,
And my childhood home upon the hill,
Of shades that drift, as photos rot
And memories that haunt me still.
Stolen bikes, lawsuit,
A neighbor’s crying baby.
Job is my homeboy.
……
The material!
I could write a country song.
Nashville, here I come.
I need to be the best
Better than everyone else
But sometimes other people have cool stuff
And know things that I don’t know
And can do things that I can’t do (yet)
And I want to ask them to teach me!
And I want to ask them to show me things
that I don’t know (yet)!
And I want to tell them that I get so restless
Only knowing the things I already know
And that I get so lonely
Not being able to get close to them
these wonderful people
But if I told them that, they’d know.
They’d know that I’m not the best
They’d know that I’m not perfect and that
I’m actually kind of a mess
And I don’t think it should be that important
but I just can’t.
(yet.)
It’s been a long day
Of Lines and Waiting
and it’s not even 10:30.
I don’t WANT to have to take a lab class.
Especially not on Friday morning.
Who the hell thought that up?
I’m so nervous.
My roommate doesn’t know
that I’m taking classes at the other college.
My rommate doesn’t know
why I’m not taking her dance class.
My roommate
probably doesn’t need to know
but she might find out anyway.
My roommate
will be judgy and concerned
And I don’t want it.
I’m so used to hiding
So used to being ashamed
of the things that don’t go exactly to plan.
I’m nervous about being Found Out
as Not Good Enough.
My stomach hurts.
I’m tired
and I don’t have any money for coffee.
I have hours to kill and I’m not sure what to do with them.
My monsters tell me
that I’m sure to do it wrong.
My water bottle
is losing its cool sticker.
I’m just
so afraid.
At least I know where to put my woem,
And that is the only good thing
Or maybe not the *only* good thing
But certainly the only easy thing.