Rug Out from Under

in poetry •  2 years ago  (edited)

cristian-newman-364529.jpg
Image Credit

It was tucked into a pile of papers which, when shuffled, revealed the fear. Abandonment. This one is new for me.

It was a fog surrounding me, pouring out of my heart. I choked on it, covered my face to breathe in the middle of a meeting where everyone grew quiet with concern. Apologies were issued. So unexpected, that trigger.

I have always, always yearned to get away. But help is needed to parent and stay well. Help is needed and doors have been closing and I feel trapped in my life even though I am not trapped in my life and because I am trapped in my life. I have responsibilities.

The promise of relief is gone. The sea of must do is unending. And so swept in the wave of fear washing me in the tingling numbness of not okay.

I will be okay.

I am okay.

The fear is witnessed. Now the wound will heal.

Abandonment. So unexpected.

I know I am not alone.

Don't forget, best comment on this account or @nat5an each week gets 5SBD reward.

Recent Posts


APP.png

Authors get paid when people like you upvote their post.
If you enjoyed what you read here, create your account today and start earning FREE STEEM!
Sort Order:  

It is such a suffocating feeling to cry for help, and the only one who answers is yourself. There's a desperation, a loneliness, an abandonment. It might not even be real. There might be those poised to help... but timing is everything. It is noble to want to help, to truly mean to help... but sometimes the drowning in the fog occurs so suddenly that it only seems to reinforce the fear of being alone in a world full of people. Like dehydrating on a raft surrounded by salt water. Well meaning and close to what you need, but inadequate at that moment and deadly. In the end, we accept compromise. We redefine "must do" and we redefine "okay" so that we stay a breath longer in the fog without succumbing. Knowing we're loved, but finding that sometimes that isn't enough. So... maybe we cry out again... and we redefine how we view the fact that only we respond. Maybe, just maybe, that can be okay. Maybe, we find strength and courage that we didn't know we had, because the alternative is not acceptable. And maybe, in time, ours is the voice we listen to first in the replies to our cries for help. Maybe.

These reads like poetry, friend. How beautiful put and how deep the understanding. I take hope from this. As always, thank you for your voice. <3

thank God we are made of hope, and of fireflies

Gorgeous building blocks.

This is an amazing piece of writing. I like that you can express yourself. This is a power.

I deeply appreciate this. Thank you.

Great. Kindly stop by my page and see some of my posts on cultivating the woman. Thanks again. Kindly follow back