Independent..circa 2004

As I read my book tonight (Black House) - my mind kept drifting out of focus. I kept rethinking the events of the day, and eventually got to a point where I had stopped reading all together and was just staring at my book, thinking; I am totally independent. It kept echoing over and over in my head, like some horrible tic I couldn't get rid of. Most people would think independence is an asset, but not me. Not this much independence. And the more I thought of it, the more this sinking feeling crept into my head, this realization that my life, which seems functional and mechanically routine, is actually one big lonely blur, filled with task after task, all of which I can do all by myself - without anyone. This modern day feministic culture that has produced me and all the women like me, is a joke - a cruel anomaly of life. It doesn't take one person to make a child, or build a home, or sustain a family - it takes two. Or maybe three or four... but life is certainly not supposed to be undertaken alone. And that is precisely what I've done. My pride has made other people unnecessary to my livelihood, to my daily sustenance, so this solitary life I'm living is completely of my own doing. And I suddenly realized how much I hate being independent, and how that one factor has probably ensured my singleness up to this point, and undoubtedly will, throughout my future.

Today and yesterday I've been sick with strep throat - feeling truly horrible with body aches, a fever of 101.3 and a throat so swollen I could barely swallow yesterday. It was so bad in fact, that a few times I was on the verge of tears just because I felt so crummy. And still, in my sickness and general downtrodden state, I managed to go grocery shopping (twice), shuttle Daryl to his basketball practices, take him to get his hair cut, clean my house, do four loads of laundry, patch a whole in my drywall (courtesy of the kids while I was out of town), re-organize my tool shelves in the garage, deal with having my puppy Peanut carted off by Animal Control (he bit someone, so it's curtains for him), cook several chicken dishes (lunch for work this weekend), and have another nasty telephone fight with the kids Dad. Imagine what I could of done if I wasn't sick. The problem is, I have gotten so used to doing everything by myself, that I have practically made having a man around obsolete. I need them only for sex and emotional support, but even then - I haven't gotten much of that from Adam. He seems wholly uninterested when I ramble on about my problems, or what I'm dealing with at home. Makes me feel like we are only together for the occasional companion - when neither of us is too busy with our real lives, and we have some spare time for one another.

I hate being a single parent. I hate having to do everything myself. I hate taking out the garbage, and not having someone to help me wash the dogs and do the laundry. But most of all, I hate that I don't think I will ever have that - because it's so out of the ordinary from what I'm used to, that I have no idea how to incorporate that in my life. With Adam, I whine about what I want - and it only drives him further away. Even I hate to hear myself complain - I sound like a huge pain in the ass. And I swore I would never be that way. But he is so un-emotional, and so distant. So many times I feel like he is indifferent to our relationship - like if we broke up he wouldn't even give it a second thought. I hate that too. Feeling like you are dispensable and easily replaced. I just want to feel loved and cherished, and valued. When someone loves you, really loves you, don't they want to help you with the yucky stuff? Don't they want to make your life easier and make you feel appreciated? I always thought so. I always want to help people that way - but then, it's always been so easy for me to love and be in love. It's comes so naturally for me. What a cruel bit of irony that no one else seems to feel that way....

Wounded

This wounded soul
- has seen too much
It is broken and bruised
- it is cold to the touch

This empty shell
- is home to despair
Where once there was meaning
- it now just lies bare

How many times can I lose myself?
- before all hope is gone?
How many times can I fail myself
- just to sing this tragic song

This life - it's a circus
- a game, I can't win
I'm lost
and alone
I'm dead from within

This heart that's so battered
- this soul that's so torn
I'm broken and beaten
- yet still, I go on.

Who I am....

Poetry anyone?

Who I am...

The Laughing Girl
who finds humor in every situation
The Crying Woman
who has known too much pain
The Skeptic
who sees suspicion on everyone's faces
and The Cynic
who beleives there's nothing to be gained.

I am The Hopeful
who wants something to hold on to
I am the Faithful
who wants something to believe
I am the Lost Child
who wanders through the darkness,
stumbling through her lifetime,
blindly wishing she could see.
I am The Mother
whose love is unconditional
I am The Father
who wishes I didn't have to be...
I am The Officer
whose intentions are full of honor
who'd give her life,
so selflessly.

I am so much,
so many things
so many sides that you can't see
though you would judge me quickly
and cast your vote
on who I am
on what you see....

Who I Am
is a work in progress
a fragile flower - not yet bloomed,
a delicate spirit
in a soldiers armor
a star filled night
under a luminous moon.

c. February 2002