Chronicles of a SAHM, Journaling, Lavender Fields Creations

Uninspired

I find myself feeling totally uninspired. This is quite a contradiction as I am writing this because of a sudden inspiration to tell the world about how uninspired I am. (Weird)

Anyway, years ago, it was easy to put together a paragraph, a page, or a chapter. Now it’s difficult to even string two words together without having to use a dictionary. Inspiration used to flow from my fingertips onto paper, later to a keyboard where words were given life – like water – to anyone who would willingly partake of its goodness. I loved to write words describing my life and every intricate detail – it was juicy.

I don’t know if it’s the dis-ease that I have now which makes me mundane, dull, lackluster and oddly droll, but I want more. I want my old life back. I want laughter and dancing. I want poetry and fiction.

I want to feel life but how do I do this? How do I get my groove back?

Chronicles of a SAHM, poetry

Cracked Foundation

My foundation is cracked. My dad passed in 1989 and my mom, earlier this year.

My foundation is cracked.

I’ve not had an easy life. I’ve been raped, cheated on, lied to.
I’ve had disloyal friends. Worse – I’ve had disloyal family members.
My foundation is cracked.

I’ve had a car repossessed, a home foreclosed and lost valuable things in a flood.

Some days it feels like no one has my back.
I know that “Better days are coming” – they always do!
“Joy comes in the morning,” right?
“What I’m going through right now is preparing me for the things I asked for,” right?
“There is light at the end of the tunnel.” Okay.

It is just so hard at times.  I know God has me. I know that. It’s just hard.

Without my parents and grandparents, my foundation is definitely cracked.
But with God, I guess I am just thankful I even have the foundation.

 

Chronicles of a SAHM, poetry

Sandpaper

Completely irritated.
By the alarm on a watch that no one wears.
By the heat blowing on my head.
By the cold air blowing underneath the door.

I’m irritated.

Your constant need for attention.
Your considerable lack of affection.
Your voice when you feel you are right.
Irritates me.

Your hard skin next to mine.
Your brittle voice next to my ear.
Your harsh words reverberating in my mine
are irritants.

Sometimes silence is my best quality.
Sometimes being still is best.
Sometimes sitting alone in a corner
Is the only thing that gives me rest.

Chronicles of a SAHM, poetry

Soul Search

You don’t look into my eyes the way you used to.

We used to have a conversation
without saying a word.

We used to laugh at the same things
at the same time.
Even when no one else saw the humor.
We would take long walks,
holding hands the whole time.
You say you love me.
But you don’t hold me like its our last time.
You don’t kiss me -just because.
We don’t even celebrate our own holidays.

I wish it were – the way it was.

poetry

What this is

I wonder if you really love me.

I wonder if it’s me you want to be with.

You laugh with me and talk to me

….about her.

She’s included in everything.

But you love me. Right?

We argue when I talk about my feelings.

You ask her about hers.

You console her when she’s sad

With me, its tough love.

You don’t ask about my future.

You know all about hers.

Do you really love me?

I take my time and get myself together for you. You notice her hair, her clothes, her

makeup, her perfume.

This isn’t love. Not even for myself.

I’ve got to move on.