Don't Feed It

It kind of feels like I’m falling backwards

Like the wind has been knocked out of me.

Like my insides have floated away.

Like I might be sick to my stomach

Or that someone mistook my guts for shoelaces. And tied them. In a bow. With bunny ears.

I guess I am not really “over”.

I often forget to think of him.

But he is also often on my mind.

People have all kinds of opinions about him.

But then there’s this pit inside.

This pit that I am still falling down.

Air rushing past

Struggling to catch my breath

So that’s what I’m focusing on.

Deep breath in. . . deep breath out.

Don’t feed the beast inside.

Lock it in a cage.

Kill it with kindness

But don’t feed it.

If I don’t look at it

It doesn’t die

It just lies in wait for a chance to lash out the moment my defenses are down.

So I’m determined.

Now, this time, the beast and I have a date.

We have to have it out.

I need to kill it now.

This bio is hard to write. I am grappling with publicly admitting my survivorship. While I must admit that there are many life-altering events that perforate my past, I choose not to let them define me. I am a Survivor because I do not subscribe to the line of thought that says I must be “damaged goods”. I am a Survivor because my focus is on being honestly, truly, and vividly alive. That means living in honesty with myself. It means dedicating each day to recovery. My tattoo has nothing to do with my survorship, technically. My sister and I got matching ones on a (thought out) sisterly impulse. I have always loved and looked up to my sister, who I am completely blessed to have in my life.

Bonnyjean's path to recovery has taken her to very unexpected places. She had lived with depression and chronic illness for years before taking the baby steps necessary to take a more loving approach to life. At the age of 19, repressed memories surfaced that changed the shape of her...

One Day, Not Tomorrow

So. One day, I sat down at a computer and I wrote about the sadness that I see.

I wrote how it moved me

How I moved it around

Alienated it

Made love to it

Through it

Around it

In spite of it

To quell it

To grieve it

To smother it.

Today, I notice it. I notice the sadness in the sobriety of knowing

It just is.

In the sobriety of knowing

It doesn’t define me.

One day, I will make love to me.

Today, I make love sing.

I twist the tortured cables of my computer

I tap the keys swiftly

I listen to Radiohead

I notice the sadness

I notice the heartache

I notice me noticing

I notice the desire

I notice the judgement

I notice the critic

And I am love

Within and without the cacophony.

Deep breaths starve the ego.

The place where I am, where I make these songs, often cries out for me to trust. We are built to take risks. There is risk in every choice. Calculation. Response time. Reflexes. Assessment. To see myself through the others’ eyes. What would I see? If they could see themselves through my eyes, would they revel in their beauty as I do? Would they cry at the disparity in our perceptions? What if we could all sit within the realm of conscious perception, each seeing through collective eyes

What if we all could be open?

A shut box

A dark soul

A thick wall

High and ostentatious

Can it be scaled?

I could die a thousand lifetimes waiting for it to fall.

But I want to live. I want to breathe the life of a thousand lifetimes

And if I could I would exhale the strongest wind

And the compassion of my air would float the wall away

And we could stare into each other’s eyes

Marveling at our nakedness

In the certainty of the strength in our helplessness

For we may sit

And gaze

And be

And we would know love.

But today, I sit before a high stone wall

I could die a thousand lifetimes waiting for it to fall. 

Only a Woman

This is how I procrastinate: with a song!

Only a Woman

Capo 1

G am c g

I’m only a woman

If you know what I mean

Sometimes I need

The touch of a man

I’m only a woman

if you know what I mean

Sometimes I need

This world explained to me

(Am em)

Sometimes it seems I only got one choice

Between bad and worse

And everybody just plays dumb

Only lookin out for number one

Who sees what I see?

I’ve got you under my skin

Just not under my thumb

I’m only a woman (with one voice)

if you know what I mean

Just wanna be free

Whose gonna help me?

Who’s gonna help me?

Who’s gonna help me?

Who’s gonna help me?

Seems I’ve only got a choice between bad and worse

Where everybody plays dumb