Transitions Hurt Sometimes

“Transitions must transist” a dear love of mine once told me. He meant to tell me that we can’t hold on to everything and every moment as if it will last forever. Things change. Circumstances change. Go with the flow. Fly. After all, transitions must transist”. His word. This never became more true to me than in the beginning of this year. The year of the Fire Monkey. The year where things were not going to calmly move along, or wait on me to make decisions. The year where if I don’t take the hint and move then I’ll be pushed. Sometimes transitions can hurt like hell.
There was something different about this year from its beginning. As if the usual routines just were not going to cut it anymore.There would be no more comfort levels, security blankets or self sabotaging excuses. The revelations of the past two years, were ready to burst into present reality. No more hiding to keep peace. No more silently dying. It was like my dear loves words were watching over me “transitions must transist..it’s ok”.
   After personal losses in the end of 2015, I went through some personal transition where I had to answer many questions about my being. This was a transition of healing and moving forward. After this I was scared of the actual movement of transition. I had been trying to force myself into a mold to succeed at my job. That was not working. My finances were in a wreck and I had thought about bankruptcy. The most minimal things became disasters, like a vacation that found me wrecking my car and losing more money. All attempts at maintaining comfort failed. I was on the crossroads of new beginnings or trying to numb out to survive. Somewhere in the wreckage I looked towards the Heavens and said “whatever God, whatever you want”. Be careful what you pray for.
    Withing a two week period after the prayer, I lost my job. My pay was cut and I was forced to make decisions and to actively look for other options in life. It was a push. After the immediate shock and hurt of the unfair treatment I had received, I realized how free I now I was. Free to have time, time to think, to write and to stretch my limits. I had a new job in a matter of days, with new prospects. I made five writing submissions, whether they are published or not is not the point. The renewed sense of creativity that is flowing is it’s own transition. I paid off a small portion of my debt. I stopped smoking, this time with very little effort. It was just time. My body wouldn’t do it anymore. I enrolled in a Master Degree program, and am active in own life. Like all transitions, when the time comes, they must transist, here in the year of changes. That fire monkey stuff.
* Note* I understand that “transist’ is not a literary word for transition. This was truly a term my friend used and one that stays with me.
life-transitions
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Quitting

I’m a former smoker, as of last week. It isn’t the first time either. Once, I had an acupuncturist help me quit smoking and it stuck for a good while. What ever really is a good reason or excuse to light up another one? It is never as good as we smokers imagine it will be. Much like my acupuncturist and I agreed…a cigarette is like that boyfriend that beats us but we keep going back to him. Because we know him. He is who we turn to when we are sad, lonely or stressed. Then before we know it he is back in our bed, controlling our life and killing our health. All the elements are there. Addiction of any kind is emotional, and nicotine is so easily addictive and so present in our lives, that it is hard not to relate smoking and the smoker to being a bond of sorts. So this time when I let it go, I let it go softly. I thought of it just like a relationship, and wrote a poem about it.

I’ve quit you so many times
and I always come running back
You are like a boyfriend
who takes all my energy
my time and my best
and you give me nothing back
I spend so much money
we hide behind closed doors
we take a deep breath together
and wonder what all this hiding is for
you give nothing
you add nothing
you heal nothing

Quitting
Quitting you again

You’re like an abusive boyfriend
a family member
an ex husband or memory
that keeps me curled up
making my initiative lazy
you make me old
and when you aren’t around
I start acting crazy

Quitting
I’m quitting you again
and if I falter
I’m gonna think of you just like this
like an abusive boyfriend
a lazy ass lover
an ex husband who knows my weakness
A taker
a taker
with nothing to give me

you cant have my money
you cant have my breath
or my life
anymore
smoke

To All the Men I’ve Loved

To all the men I’ve loved. Because love is a complex things and there are many different levels, or kinds of love.

To my father, my first love. Thank you for calling me a princess so I’ve never forgotten my place in the world. Thank you for passing on your genes of being hard headed and stubborn, which has gotten me far in this world as a single female. Thank you for making me paranoid, yes even that thing that many may fault their parents for, I thank you for making me paranoid about the intentions of men. I know for a fact it has kept me in check and superseded what could have been fatal attractions. Everyone has dad issues, or parent issues, but overall…you were one of the good ones. Even with your issues. I miss you.

To my Grandfather. The only Grandfather I knew. Thank you for your dramatic, impromptu and inappropriate humor. For your debonair suave. For your love of reading, which was passed on to my mother. For your switch turn anger that scared me to death as a child, yet I recognize in men now and wont tolerate. Thank you for doting on my grandmother and for epitomizing all that is great in young to old sweethearts. Thank you for demonstrating  in your family, the art of gifting. Miss you, Grandaddy.

To my favorite uncles on both sides of the family. To my uncle on my dads side, with your righteous anger that actually was wholeheartedly unrighteous and I would never have actually agreed with you on, man you had tenacity. Thanks for being proactive in researching genealogy, I’m inspired to do that with the other side of the family. I always admired the nieces that came from you, who led their lives in such a strong manner. You may have had your angering prejudices. Your biases and weaknesses to and for the opposite sex, but to me you were a veteran and older bad boy of the family. Maybe the archetype of men I loved in the future. And your carpentry skills, why don’t men create anymore? I miss you too.

To my favorite uncle on my mothers side, my uncle who played with me as a toddler, under tables. Who did magic tricks with me and my brothers until we were old enough to know better but you made it so convincing, thanks for always being magical. For being cool and for being the humble favorite. I’m forever scarred and ruined by men with motor oil under their fingers…Who love to get in engines and see how they work. Who can fix the car or tell you whats wrong with it. Yeah, I see you in everyday mechanics. Whenever I see them.
 

To my second Uncle on my mothers side. Thanks for caring enough to tell the truth. Because you know you are right. Because you know the facts. Because you love to research. Because you care. Thanks for being suspicious and inquisitive. Thanks for making me question everything.

You two are the standard I hold all men to.

To my ex husband. You got me at a very green age. You were older and seemed so much more experienced and educated. You weren’t. You just seemed that way. Ultimately you were just as green as I. You taught me to be tougher than I should have had to be, You taught me to see when I was being lied to. You taught me to spot an insecure man, who despite being talented, would never allow himself to reach very far. You taught me to take what all the other men had taught me and use it. I had to, in order to mentally survive you. I may be fifty percent of why we failed, but I don’t miss you.

To my pastor and stepfather. Thank you for showing me that there are educated men who admire women physically and mentally. Who want their partners to excel in life and succeed in their dreams. Thank you for the counseling and advice, and guidance. I may not be getting my Masters if it were not for you.

To my best friend. Thanks for proving that yes, a woman can sleep in the room next to a man a that man not try to jump her bones. Thank you for being present and willing to help in so many situations. Thank you for seeing me at my worst. Thank you for the willingness to attempt to be a balanced view point. At your worst and your best you have always been consistent. I owe my best self to you. One day I might be able to give that.

Lastly…
To the man who saw what no one else would call out. The lover to the wild in me, thank you for giving me the space to run free. Thank you for making me speak my own thoughts and teaching me how to articulate my own mind and need. Thank you for letting me in your world and for coming into mine. Thank you for honoring our disagreements and for touching me so deeply. There is nothing I will ever write that I cannot thank you for. Because you were the first man to call me a writer. I love you, I miss you. Thank you ..
Thank you all.

menshands

 

The Other American Privilege

American Privilege

Like any other privilege

We say what we want in our safe circles

and criticize who we want outside of them

American Privilege

To scrutinize, demonize and hate
one side for their beliefs, their upbringing and views

while hiding behind keyboards

pens and politically sanctioned opinion
a safe space in another kind of church
just another form of beliefs, or upbringings, or views

American Privilege

having so much opportunity
so much grace

and Lord knows forgiveness

forgiveness for centuries of wayward ways

yet not forgiving each others

finding different ways to blame

American Privileged female

gets to act just like a man

American privileged  male

can change to a woman

American privileged teens

can read and write and learn the word objective but not what means
can grow up
blaming society
their peers
their parents
their grandparents
or their cotton candy wasted years

American Privilege
the privilege to learn all you can
and use it against those you love
and from the land you came

American Privilege
the privilege to say what you want
and kill with your words
to hate business
though it paid your taxes
to hate religion
though it taught you not to steal
to hate hate
but instill it in your soul
regulate perception of hate
same way some regulates perception of morality

its all about control

American Privilege

The privilege to come and become
to be better
to raise your kids as you see fit

and

not under any tyrannical governance
only to watch them grow, in a society so free

that they are free
to turn their backs on all that made it to be

Privileged to not know any worse off
Privileged to not grow up hearing from Russian immigrants
or orphans from Ukraine

To partake of immigrants wares

but never asked why those people came
privileged to use technology from entrepreneurs
to voice their disdain with their privileged free society
to boycott Israel
to stomp on the flag
to vote socialist

because Denmark is doing oh so well

and Reagan spent his life eating jelly beans and laughing about his privilege
envisioning a future of spoiled privileged kids
pretending to be adults
and lazily posting rhetoric about an overused words.

Privileged to abuse your freedom of responsibility
Privileged to be to ignorant to count the cost
Privileged to make the gamble
Privileged to be ignorant to the cost

fic-amrk

Authors Note: Please don’t use your privilege to to assault this post. As of now this is still a free forum, and there are no “safe spaces” here. Also let it be said, that this is not an attack on any candidate,as they all have socialist tendencies (even Trump with his desire to expand the spying state with regulations on free speech) and America has been incorporating these tendencies and regulations for years. That being said, if anyone thinks that voting in socialism will help matters, they are blind to the socialism already here. Be objective and think outside what your circles and professors tell you. Find an immigrant from a socialist country. They are everywhere. Get off Facebook and get to know your country.  Peace