never go away.
They do not take vacations.
Backbreaking struggles to simply manage day-to-day activities,
provide all avenues of support to a little creature,
never takes a walk,
never momentarily steps away for you
to catch your breath.
“Time for yourself,” is a joke;
a joke that you pay cold hard struggled cash for.
It is all on you.
There is no savior to swoop in
when he throws a tantrum in the bath,
screaming at the top of his lungs,
losing his shit,
while you whiff the aroma
of your already lost shit.
There is no magical lottery deposit of funds
when you are counting
for bus fare.
There is no comfort in the late hours,
far too exhausted to cry.
It is here,
in this precious dark moment,
you possess a choice:
“Perception is everything.”
Carelessly we throw around cliché phrases,
conveniently using them to address someone else’s difficulty-
never our own.
As is, Choice.
I chose fear and anxiety for so long,
they became partners in my day to day.
Ever loyal friends,
that would soothe me with their distress.
The ‘what if’s,’
would lull me to insomnia…
comforted me like a threadbare blanket.
Willingly, I became a victim to circumstance.
It was so easy to slip into…
Much easier than not.
I would have become pregnant by someone else.
he wouldn’t have turned out to be such a piece of shit.
I would have gone to school when younger,
obtained my degree.
I would have been able to stay near to family, friends.
I had a better job,
I lost weight,
took better care of myself.
I had addressed past trauma ten years ago.
I had more support.
I knew how to be a better mother.
Well-intentioned loved ones support the ‘if only’s,’
steel enforcing their structure beams around your perception.
can see your obstacles,
see their capability
“What else are you supposed to do?”
“You’ve tried everything.”
“You’re doing the best you can.”
Just a little extra saliva
to add to your
a tad extra confirmation
you are doing the best you can,
‘the best,’ being
the hopeless victim to
that you are.
is a valiant cauterizing machete
slicing through oozing wounds.
is a Bitch
delivering an upper cut,
punching you from slumber.
you have a choice:
To carry burden,
To choose to laugh
when he loses his shit-
you ARE doing the best you can,
in the moment.
and only you,
can choose guilt,
You will never be perfect-
You can only be perfected.
you can feel sorry for yourself-
you can apologize to yourself,
moving the fuck along.
you can wish for more support-
you can give it to yourself.
you are stronger than the ‘others,’
stronger than the moment,
the endless obstacles.
you ARE a Badass Bitch
spinning a machete in your right hand…
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