merry mundane

Work, work, work. Two thirty to ten thirty every day. Sometimes I just want to quit, but I hear money's nice. I wish things were easier.
On another note- Happy Solstice, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, and all that. Here's a poem.


Falsies.
Long and dark and dramatic- like us.
Fuchsia and lime green lips open and close
And talk like chocolate pudding.
Our dresses muffle the sound of our
Growling, groaning stomachs
And we pose. Smile.
Clicking pumps against the marble floors
We are goddesses.
We are worshiped in Vogue and Elle
And no one will forget us.
We have been cemented.
Full skirts with floral patterns on our ribs and
Tiny little laxatives in our colon.
We are perfect.
The click, click of the cameras
Reminds us that we are more real than
Those running errands on the streets,
Running around in circles on their feet-
We are worshiped.

good eat enough to eat

“What cute kids you have!”
Your benign comment rips open the stitches of my cancerous memory wounds
I could just eat them up
devour them,
One by one, with a spork,
Feasting on their adorableness
Shoveling them down my lonely empty gullet
And filling my belly with happy.
Making myself plump with your joy.
What? Is that not the way it works?
Because that’s my first instinct.
I mean, after the one that screams
“I hate you.”
I hate the fact that you have the swollen belly
Of a rambunctious pregnant woman
Who downs chocolate sundaes like Tylenol.
Brimming with life while I sit robbed of that glow
I hate your pristine smile, happy lips,
Bright eyes looking toward whatever the
Future may be for you-
My future was ruined.
I hate how happy you are. What you expect is exactly what I was expecting. Expecting to hold someone closer to your heart than you ever could. Expecting to add one more to your Norman Rockwell scene, painting an entire future in your mind’s eye for a pre-life cookie cutter child baking in your oven.
The pitter patter of undercooked baby batter runs rampant through the empty halls of expecting in my broken hearts shattered memories of expecting
Do you know what loathing is?
It’s seeing your joy, and your offspring springing around and from you, dressed in envy-green jerseys set and ready to play the ultimate game of life, each identical, sporting their allegiance to team Family.
Images of your happy content and ignorantly smug face being boxed and beaten with the sorrow of accident flicker through my mind as I put you in my shoes for an unwanted macabre justice from the unintended unfuture of my own.
Jam it between your finger tips
And up your eyeballs and in your
Hairy cunt.
I want you to know what it’s like
To loose everything- and maybe that way
You won’t flaunt your perfect life
And you’ll slow down and really,
Truly, see.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On September 10th, we're having a burial ceremony for Chatham, since that was his due date. We're burying a rosebud and lighting candles, casting circle. . . Hopefully it'll be closure. We're also picking up a baby blanket and giving it to a baby born on the 10th as a way to commemorate him.

<3

dear heart

Sometimes I wish you'd fucking stop beating already, and others I'm glad you've stuck through everything with me.

Today was a hard, hard day. For some reason that I can't comprehend people fall in love with me. A lot.

Naturally, that's appealing, but it's also hurtful.

Sometimes you've got to choose between two people, and that can tear you and those two people apart.
Please tell me I'm normal for being hurt by my own decision. I don't know how my life will end up, and I know there's lots of ways it could, but who's to say one path is better than the other?

It's all so confusing, and I wish there was a roadmap, but I guess winging it will have to do.

I've spent most of the evening crying. Over the hurt I undoubtedly caused others and over the fact that I feel like I've ruined everything.

Two friendships that once were stable are now in shambles because I'm a huge flirt.

:[

fiction, it's been forever

She went searching for herself at the bottom of a bottle of a thick brown poison advertised at 40 proof, and as she traveled she’d find herself farther and farther away from her destination. Phrases from an Sylvia Plath poem were set on an infinite loop as background noise to inner monologues of failure.

Every night was a new bottle, a new search, and would always seem to end the same, lonelier at a bigger party with more people, smoking this or that in hopes of something real. Rock bottom was where she was headed but she could never hit it hard enough. She’d wake up beside a boy, under a man, a strange room, a new couch, never a step closer to end of a journey, to something real.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Will write soon. . . Life moves so fast, I'm trying not to get dizzy as well as hold on. Cool news coming, details soon. :]

<3

melt

Spring's here.

The drizzle, windy, spotless perfection of it all.

It kind of snuck up on me. I mean, I've been expecting it (more like hoping for it) for about a month already, imagining birds chirping and buds on the trees but. . Finally, it's actually here.

Even though I'm sort of dreading spring, since it was supposed to be when my baby bump was supposed to appear and when all those cute belly-outlining dresses were to make their appearance, I'm still glad it's here.

It just makes me smile.

Lately most days have been spent out on the porch, smoking and talking to the sun, the moon or the trees (once I even tried super hard to light a pine cone on fire with my brain. . didn't work). It's magical.

Sometimes as the nicotine hits my bloodstream and my limbs start to feel heavy I imagine that now that Chatham's gone and become part of the Earth Mother he's part of everything I see. Birds flying around, squirrels flirting, branches waving. . . Oh, I know it's probably silly but it makes me feel better. He's now part of life- in a different way than I had ever intended (or hoped, or dreamed!). But still, he's happy. How can you not be when you skip past the shit of life and head straight for the heaven that is nature?

If I focus really hard, I can drown out the unbearable noise of the buses and cars with the still hum of the earth. Beauty.

So the snow's melted and the flowers are on their way and I'm sitting on the couch heralding them with my clicking words. I do believe this is how life should be lived.

It'll be ok, right?

Yeah, everything will be fine.

Someday.

Maybe Earth's trying to teach me to enjoy the chaos and uncertainty as well as the perfection. There is beauty in pain, you know. Especially when you look back.

I'd even go so far as to say that the greatest beauty is that which has overcome hardship to get to where it is now. Like spring. If it weren't for the death the Earth went through to get to where it is right now- it wouldn't be as beautiful. . in fact, it wouldn't be at all.

<3

un-becoming a mother

Give me back my baby.

There's baby socks, baby books and a tiny little onesie in our apartment. Sometimes I'll take them out and just cry. I try not to tell JP because he's got enough going on without me being miserable. Alcohol, cigarettes and music are my consolation. . . no- they're my distractions.

It's hard, you know. I mean . . other than how hard you think it may be. It's harder. There were the physical effects, chunks of stuff just falling out, seeing Chatham amidst the bloody mess that was his home, the rolling around the bed crying "Oh God, it hurts". . And there's the remembering.

I was sitting out on the porch smoking and watching the rain and thinking about Mothers Day. When I was pregnant with him, I was super excited anytime someone sent me a "mommy" forward. . and I couldn't wait till mothers day. So- now what am I? I mean, I was a mother, sort of. I considered myself one anyways.

I guess now I'm not a mother. How does one un-become a mother? Not physically, but otherwise. I was a mother, but now I'm not. . . Jesus.

Oh sure, now I can drink again and stuff like that. . but who cares? I complained about it while I was pregnant but the truth is I would give up alcohol forever if I could have him back.

I didn't know him, but he was part of me. It's hard to explain. I's like loosing part of yourself- but even more than that. It's like. . loosing something that's more than just you, that's more than everything good in the world.

Maybe it's because I'm still hormonal, or maybe it's because I'm a jealous bitch, but before the oneness I felt with other mothers (especially ones who were still pregnant) has now turned into this terrible hungry jealousy. It hurts so much. I know it's not- but it feels like they're rubbing it in my face. . . "Look at what I can do. . you can't do this."

And you can't forget. You just can't. The memories you have may not be of the baby's first cry, or their first laugh or tooth. . . but the ones you do have are stuck on repeat. They loop over and over again in your head reminding you of what you've lost.



When a baby arrives,
be it for a day, a month, a year or more,
or perhaps only a sweet flickering moment-
the fragile spark of a tender soul
the secret swell of a new pregnancy
the goldfish flutter known to only you-
you are unmistakeningly changed...
the tiny footprints left behind on your heart
bespeak your name as Mother.

-Kimberly de Montbrun

suicide prevention

In Illinois, suicide is the 12th leading cause of death. There are almost 3 suicides a day. Those 79 years and older are at highest risk for committing suicide.

Statistics show that suicide is either the 2nd or 3rd leading case of death for teenagers (they're not sure because many times suicide is covered up for the sake of the family as an "accident", which in my opinion is stupid because it screws up statistics- a lot).

Obviously this is a problem. We've got to do something to either fix it or at least alleviate it.

Sometimes it feels daunting in the face of so many suicides and so many people who may be showing heavy depression symptoms, but there are a few things that will help reduce the suicide rate if people take them seriously.

First(and the one I feel is most important) is know the signs! It really doesn't take Sherlock. Depression, apathy, decreased or increased appetite, giving away treasured personal belongings. . . It's pretty easy.

Second, if you notice signs, do something. It may not be "just a phase". And even if it is, what if that's that individuals last phase. Grow up. Don't blame it on their need for attention- if they're so depressed that they are thinking about permanently ending their life there is something that needs to be paid attention to!

Thirdly, many times suicidal individuals don't see death as final. This sounds weird, but stick with me. Every time I've considered suicide I just wanted a way out, but not necessarily death. But I didn't see the difference at that point because anything seemed better than what I was going through. Usually a suicidal person will realize this right after they've done something lethal such as swallowed pills or jumped off the bridge. At that moment clarity sets in and they (usually) realize that life isn't worth giving away for something that will pass eventually. So. . . try to get anyone that you recognize suicide warning signs in to realize this- but don't count on it. It's oftentimes too hard to see in the haze of depression.

Fourthly, do what you think is right based on the situation. There have been people who I've known who go to parents of an individual or bosses and report that that person may be suicidal. Sometimes it is, but sometimes it isn't. In my case- it wasn't. It actually made this a gazillion times worse. Sometimes the right thing to do is go to a teacher or professor, and others it's right to just call the police and report them as suicidal. It all depends on the situation (including personality, severity symptoms/depression, etc).

Fifth, be nice. Don't look down on the person or anything because they're having a hard time. Chances are, if you haven't felt suicidal before, you may in the future, and you wouldn't want someone to think condescendingly about you. Do unto others; just keep it in mind.

For more good stuff (as always!) take a look at .

This website helped me come up with numbers and stuff: http://www.sprc.org/stateinformation/PDF/statedatasheets/il_datasheet.pdf

<3