Hiding the Soft Spots

A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended. ~ Ian McEwan, Atonement

Trust and intimacy are hard won qualities for they require exposing our vulnerabilities and those parts of us and our history which could be used to hurt us should the tides turn. Having been the beneficiary of having my soft spots used against me far too many times in the past year, I find my appetite for being vulnerable is greatly diminished, so much so that part of me wishes to share less of myself with those who speak and more time in my garden and with my animals. My garden has patiently borne my many heartbreaks and my animals don't talk.  Both are the perfect companions for healing. ~ Mk Michaels

Bittersweet

Was it always to be like this? she wondered. A moment of joy followed by a new sorrow? ~ Soheir Khashoggi, Nadia's Song

These days, our holidays have a sinewy vein of bittersweet woven throughout.  Slightly more than two years ago we lost a mother, a daughter, a sister, and a trusted lifelong friend and partner.  It continues to baffle me that life insists on marching forward.  The kids grow, relationships come and go, our lives have both expanded and also become much smaller.  What we value most has come clearly into focus; love, kindness, our many blessings, acts of service for others, our home, dear and trusted friends, and last but certainly not least, family.  

As the kids and I put the finishing touches on our contributions to today's Thanksgiving meal, I watched in awe at these two souls, a daughter and a son, who I love more than I ever thought I could. Children who I have the privilege to see grow into the amazing adults they are becoming. Each with their respective talents, dreams, sadnesses, joys, and independences.  As they bantered and teased one another, I watched their interaction, smiled, and sent love heavenward to their other mother, Amy.  We did good, Amy, and as we always joked with one another, we definitely did get the best ones.  ~ Mk Michaels

Happy Thanksgiving from our family to yours.

Anger

 

 

He who angers you conquers you. ~ Elizabeth Kenny

There are times when a situation gets the best of me and I get angry. Whether or not my anger is justified is irrelevant, because what often follows is anger at myself for even being angry. Granted, some of this is the vestiges of the lessons of my youth aka, "nice girls don't get angry," but it exists all the same.  I have and continue to work diligently to learn about myself, my flaws, foibles, and the aspects of my personality which are not productive so I can eradicate them or, minimally, reduce the damaging effects on both myself and others. When I catch myself getting angry, it is always a bit disappointing to be reminded that I, too, am human and, as a result, imperfect.

So, yes, I get angry sometimes and occasionally really, really, really angry.  Often the anger is rooted in inequity, mistruths, deep unkindness, or that which seems an unfair judgment. Here’s the thing though, this type of anger is the least productive of all because we simply cannot control other’s words or actions.  By getting angry about these type situations, I am actually creating even more negative energy. Although my idealistic side would like to believe that we are all kind at our core and working toward our best and greatest selves, the reality is that there are those who have been so damaged in life that they live with a diminished ability to see the good in the world and the people surrounding them. In these situations, it is a tall order to replace the anger with compassion, but I give it my best shot anyway because those who are unable to experience the incredible good in the world and its people are those who need compassion, kindness, and love most of all.  ~ Mk Michaels

 

Ripped Unawares

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Plugging along for the past couple years

Showing up each and every day
     for my kids
     for our pets

     for work
     for my home
     for friends
     for my lover
     for strangers even

I showed up because that’s what I do

I showed up in spite of

     bone-crunching fatigue
     daunting obstacles
     too many comings and goings
     losses over and above the initial loss
     unexpectedly being in the crosshairs of malice
     shoulders hunched with the burden of sole responsibility

I perfected my ability to flip between

sobbing and smiling brightly
in an instant
for the sake of other’s comfort
I got good at it
showing up
smiling, and even believing myself healed
except I wasn’t

I’d not really grieved
because it was unacceptable
to me and
to the one I held most closely
Sure, a nightmare here or there
A couple episodes of crying
with an audience perceived to be trusted
but, by and large,
I didn’t grieve
I just didn’t
 
Until now
and what a toll it has taken
I am spent
flayed, my skin raw
every fiber of my being torn
shredded
the ineffective band-aid unexpectedly
ripped away
I am hemorrhaging

Rolling up my sleeves

I turn to face that
which I thought was done
and begin yet again

 

~ Mk Michaels

Mental Scrapbooking

Photograph images of past loves 
pop like flashbulbs in my mind's eye. 
The good, the bad, the ugly,
cycle round and round
almost too fast to discern 
who is who.

The reasons each is in my past
are good and bad, 
even some ugly.
That each ended though
is as it should be.
So the gratitude
for the lessons learned from each
fills me up and spills
to overflowing.

Today.
Today is today
and in spite of the rain,
which is always temporary,
I feel the sun coming. 

~ Mk Michaels