Thanksgiving and Toxic Family

This weekend brought out the first sunlight I have seen in a couple of weeks. It is funny how the weather can effect our mood so much. Not that I have been a grump for two weeks, but my spirits are definitely lifted by the returning sunlight.

With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I tend to dwell on the past more than I like to admit. My extended family is quite divided. Though I am very happy to spend this Thanksgiving with my family (the ones that still talk to each other) I get lost in thought over the family that will not be attending. Every year I wonder if someone will return to our lives, and every holiday season shop for their Christmas gift even if I won't be buying it.

Holidays can do that to us I suppose. I wonder, since I think of lost family so much this time of year, if they, too, get caught up in the same whirlwind of memories. Our family has gone its separate ways for good reason. I do believe that not having some people come is for the best. Though, I know I may be judged for feeling this way, I can only say that walking away from family is never an easy decision. So when that decision is made I think people who have not been in such a position should just feel lucky that it isn't them that had to make it.

What I do know, and what I have learned is that I must hold onto the family that I have with extra thanks. That I intend on raising my children with the intent that they will out live me and will someday only have each other. I can only instill to them the importance of communicating through their differences and finding love and acceptance of each other at the end of every disagreement. I can only imagine how my family relationships would have been if we had such habits ourselves.

A toxic relationship can be a friend, a spouse, a parent, anyone. And it is never okay. Whether you are bonded by blood or not, Relationships of any kind should be built on respect, boundaries, and love. This Thanksgiving I will be sitting down with my family. Family that loves and respects me, and I couldn't be happier. And as usual, when my thoughts drift to those that are not attending, I will send a good thought. I picture them surrounded by people who love them and hope that they feel as grateful for it as I do.

I am going to do a slam :[

Well, it's official. I have signed up on nanowrimo.org with intent of writing quite a bit next month. Does poetry count for a month designated to novel writing? Probably not, but I think a goal of heavy writing all month is a good idea. It will be refreshing to really get into my current book. I gave myself a deadline for finishing. It has to be ready and published by Valentine's Day 2016. That gives me well over a year, to write, have it edited, some illustrations, and publish. I am excited to see what I come up with this time. Most days, I agree with the quote above. Everyone's poetry is so different from mine. I suppose we are all very different and it just seems like I stand out because it is my own writing.

At the co-book signing I shared the audience with two other writers. We all had a common thread in our writing but were all incredibly different in how we wrote and spoke. I know I haven't followed up on how my first signing went, that is simply because I didn't want to think about it till now. The truth is it was absolutely terrifying. I got myself so worked up with nerves, I am surprised I even got through it. I shook like a leaf, I had a hard time looking up at everyone. It was awful.

On the other hand, I had such support from my family. Sometimes putting yourself out there can really surprise you. They really came through for me.  I think my main issue wasn't just sitting in front of others and reading, it was the intro I had prepared. For the first time ever, I spoke openly about my childhood, about the verbal and emotional abuse I endured and recovered from. I didn't think that would be as difficult as it was. I wonder if there will always be a sense of shame that accompanies that history, or if I will ever truly just accept its happening and be able to speak about it as if I wasn't speaking about myself.... perhaps that is the key to future readings. Pretend I am talking about someone other than myself, but then what would happen to the emotion in the words I am reading?

I guess we will find out. I have decided that I will do a poetry slam in the next month. Listening to the other poet/author, who is a veteran when it comes to slams, I feel I have now an idea of the style and tempo that would be suited for such an event. I thought to myself as I listened to her, "I need something far more gritty than flowers and trees." I have had a little something I thought would be appropriate for a slam and after listening to her I think it will suit very well.

I look forward to your feedback....

It's titled "Triggered"

I doubt myself now

Seems my way is truly lost

For so long you told me who I was

And who I am to be today

I live in this doubt

I question everything I say and do

Nothing is without rhyme or reason

So few are moments of self acceptance

Who is this person you made me to be?

Tell Me! What did you want for me?

Was it truly just to serve you?

Indentured to your every need

Floundering without your voice

Slumped without your backbone

Is this really what you want for me?

To only live as you say

What mother wants this for her child?

What Queen births slaves?

The whip cracked along my back

And scars that still remain

My finger is always on the trigger

It seeks only you and I find you

In every person I meet

And they become my victim

I love them never as you did me

A true love as it is supposed to be

And yet I anticipate that you

Will come creeping out of their mouths

And I am always ready for you

With my finger on the trigger

And then it occurs-it happens

The moment when I think I see you

In an expression or a phrase

I hear your voice. I pull the trigger

…… And shot the one I love

He looks at me in shock

He is appalled that I could do such a thing

He is betrayed

And no longer knows me

I don’t see you now

Your face could not hold such hurt

As one who truly loved me

I only see the pain I caused the one I love

He was never you

Your voice, your way

Never came from him at all

It came from me

I aim with my finger on the trigger.