Mysterious Muse

Wonder

Such a concept that escapes me because I am not a child, far from a child. replaced instead by a sense of dread. The world no longer inspires me. I see no wishes in the dark.

When I grasp a clump of dirt I do not ponder whats it’s for. The tiny beings that live within. Most likely crawling onto my skin. I see it for what it is supposed to be. A patch of dirt, no mystery.

I am an adult, nothing childish within, but if I was to bend with a tiny friend and search the innocence that they see. I think, just a bit, that a part of me might

just

wonder

Honestly, this is terrible

I am not a momma to be held with contempt. I think I am exempt

From such animosity because there is no one, surely no one

Who can hate me as much as me

Such a belittling feeling and yet so deserved

For who else can ignore such a girl

One with a smile so sweetly filled with love

Who else would dare turn away from her hugs

Crying cause their skin is burning

Sleeping well into midmorning

Could you do it and still hold yourself on high

Or would you feel as I do? Despair beside a happy child

Making up excuses to stay a while

Could you really believe yourself worthy of praise

When not a day goes by that doesn’t end in a haze

This is what it is like to parent with depression

To parent in a borderline state of obsession

This desire to leave sticks to the bones

Yet, I know, I truly know, that this small child is home

Honestly_ what a terrible poem

A blacked out sun

This is a plague,
A harmonious disease that spread. Invaded the deep crusted lungs that once saved.
It is easy, no really, to see how it may have led to this.
How the blacked sun with a burnt out ring lead to people fighting, and dying, and lying,
They did not try, or so we are told, to change the ways that their ancestors taught
But so covered in ash are we
We do not see that we too are diseased
Picking at scraps and scabs that bleed
The ones that turned our lungs to lead and spread
To unknown places that lay us dead
We fight for a time when the moon bleed gold
When the sun fell upon our shoulders on a once forgotten boat
But those times have come to an end. Twisted within the desserts wind
Our ancestors taught us well and well this wound has festered
Growing daily in blackened sun while they sing hymns of battles won.

A soul infected

I am writing this after seeing a post from a blogger talking about her parenting experience during the pandemic.

Now, she isn’t the only one to write about it. Probably 1 of millions if we are being completely honest. Yet, hers is the first one I had even bothered to look at. Not that there wasn’t any chance to do so, because like I said, plenty of people are writing about this topic. I just haven’t been in a place where I could read about other experiences. So when taking the dive to finally understand what others are doing it is interesting that I ran across hers.

This experience has been trying. As many of my readers know I have a mental disorder. One that can make like a bit more complicated than it needs to be. One would think that this pandemic has scattered me. Made it hard to do much of anything as I curled into a ball awaiting the day we all die. Really, that isn’t remotely near enough to the panic state I have been thrust into.

Instead, image this, a mother and her child sitting on the couch binge watching movies. Cut to a few hours later when said mother is in her room while her child is in a different area. They are both doing different activities but both are quiet. They are content in ways you wouldn’t image would be the case in such situations. They are happy with the lack of responsibility.

But, if you wish to stick around a little longer, you will find the child sleeping and the mother crying alone in her room.

That is my reality.

See, I am used to staying home. Honestly not having to pretend to be happy while around other humans is amazing. I hate my job. I hate school. But I love them so much that I can’t stand myself. A perfect contradiction I know. But that is where I am right now. I am happy to be home and away from the world but I will it all the same.

I miss my co-workers. To the point that I have messaged my boss and a few others to check on them from time to time. I miss my fellow classmates. So much so that I wish there was a way to reach out. Zoom dinner date while we talk about Philosophy and how Socrates would have tots been a frat boy is given the chance. I miss my family and friends.

But by the grace of every deity, if given the chance to stay like this forever I would be grateful. I would welcome it with open arms and scream fuck y’all to the wind. Just me and my daughter, no school and no work. Yes please.

But, my reality makes it so I can not. I do not want this.

So there are days when things are good. I am “fun”(coughlamecough) mom. Singing and dancing while cleaning. Cooking meals and helping my kiddo with homework.you want to make some slime kid? I gotchu boo. Wanna jump on the bed? Fuck the neighbors, they know what we about! We will drown ourselves in laughter and not care about anyone else.

But there are also bad days.

Ones where I can not stop crying. When homework becomes a chore. When ignore the notifications from my daughters teaching asking if she has done her work. My house is a mess and the neighbors love me. My daughter has to fight the silence. Because mommy can not stand sounds. Everything hurts until it doesn’t. Ever tried to parent while feeling numb? As though someone else is living your life and you are playing third wheel to another’s reality. You, the voices, and the one who is in control. All fighting for recognition. With a child who is just to young to understand that not now means maybe next week sweety mommy is to busy fighting her demons.

I have gone a few days without realizing anything. A few hours where I can’t recall what I have done.

This pandemic has been a life saver in some ways. Allowing me to relax and give into my inner desire to stay away from the world.

But it has also been much like the beginning of every disaster movie. Only this one doesn’t end with a love interest and a white fence blocking out the burning city.

What time to be alive.

Please check out this fellow blogger who shared her story and inspired me to write me own. Also feel free to share you own experience while parenting (or aunting and uncleing, or cousining or sibling…ing… ok I’ll stop) during all that is going on.

Blog in question is Grieving Out loud. Thank you so much for sharing your story about mothering through the pandemic. While are experiences are vastly different in many ways I enjoy what you wrote. Seriously, I adore just about everything you write.

Mothers Day Requiem

Precious one with a bitten tongue

Broken by a lie only once spun

See through roses tinted blue

Ignoring the warnings in its hue

Tainted woe with glitter wings

Painting roses with memories

Precious child with a bitten tongue

Singing a love much to young

Did you see the rose turned blue?

Or where you mystified by its liars hue?

I am sick. No, not that sick. A different kind that makes it hard to sleep at night. The one that makes it so opening my door and walking outside is suddenly a chore. This is my normal but was easily worked past as long as I had a goal in mind.

Now, I am goalless.

There is nothing keeping me from venturing to the outside. Aside from my mind of course. But it is enough. There is a barrier now and I am to afraid to do anything about it.

I am sick. I feel like I am grieving a life that never was. I had just started living again. I had a job. I went to school. I had reasons. But now they are gone and I do not remember their flavor anymore.

A part of me doesn’t care. I crave solitude in a way that makes my heart hurt. It is beautiful, truly, but it isn’t enough.

My mother is sick as well, but not in the way you think. She told me so other day as they hooked up IVs along her arms. “Dehydrated” they said, before sending her on her own with some paid meds, “just give it to weeks”.

I don’t think that plays a part in my illness. Frankly, I do not think I feel enough to understand. I should feel pain but instead I am empty. Current events suggest that I am just going through the motions. But I think I left some part of me behind.

A- Advantageous

“She is just so cute” came the whispers

as my daughter laid herself out on the floor

Knees askew and arms to the side

Face scrunched up as she gave such loud cries

I could see them standing to the side

Ignoring the pleading look in my eye

I need help, someone to step in

but they see her smile and tightly spun curls

Her mocha skin with such clear pours

A lady stops by with a whisper

“Here’s a five, give her what she wished for”

As if her fit deserves such a gift

But if I turn away I will be judged

If I continue on I will be accused of not

not loving her enough to control her behavior

“Pretty girls don’t cry”

Whispers the man standing by

So I grab the money and make promises I will not keep

Walk away from the store and in my car I start to weep