Creations Poetry 2
Copyright Lyne's Creations August 2012, All Rights Reserved
You may NOT take copies of these poems for any reason.
Note: I often come
back, re-read and even edit my poems.
They, like me, are a work in progress. I may change a word
here and there, or I may add a whole stanza!
Some have art, and some will get illustrated later on.
He was not like most other men,
He could be spiritual, he could be zen,
He could even be a comedienne.
He could fascinate me with turn of pen.
He could melt me with a turn of phrase,
He could turn my night into bright days.
He could make me blush with his gaze.
He could charm me in a million ways.
With all the things that he could be
The saddest thing I did not see,
Was in the end he could leave me.
The History of Me
Strong and beautiful on the outside,
So Different from the feelings inside.
Deep in the night, breathing hard with anxiety,
I relive everything my Mother did to me,
60 years ago, when I was but a child of three.
No wonder they now say this sort of thing is PTSD!
I seek to listen to my inner child's pain,
to acknowledge her, to help her gain,
safety from the tenacious hurricane,
of fears that swirl about in her brain.
At the tender young age of four,
She was pushed right out the door,
Little girl forced to abide
with adult hours, she did ride
With her silent Father in the car,
When the sky so dark held not a star.
Sent way from the safety of her home,
She felt thrown away, felt all alone.
Sent by her Mother far away,
for 8 full hours every day,
locked in school, compelled to stay,
until her Father earned his pay.
While at home, her new baby brother,
Enjoyed all the love from her own Mother.
This sweet little girl who started out in life,
Full of joy and love, was crushed by strife.
Punished for getting sick in class,
Her will was broken like fragile glass,
by teachers mean, and horribly strict,
Fears of all sorts they would inflict.
My Mother taught me life is a threat,
So at 5, I reached in a drawer to get,
A great big knife to end the horror,
of my life that had held only torture.
She then took me to another kind of doctor,
Who frightened me more, he was a monster.
He told me that I wanted my Mother dead,
He put many more demons in my head.
After much illness by the age of seven,
She said you're sick, you will go to heaven.
The blood test, they said showed leukemia,
When in reality it was only anemia.
There followed a YEAR of isolation,
Taken each week for painful injections.
All my fears, they would multiply,
I was left to wonder when I might die.
You very well might just ask,
If anything good happened in my past.
I tried hard to find happy memories,
But they were so tinged with negativity,
I had to stop when I realized,
I was starting to re-traumatize!
I do remember when I was eight,
We went to Disneyland to celebrate,
But I never made the discovery,
that it was connected to my recovery.
I never lost that deep seated fear,
That I would die within a year.
Yes, I am still here at sixty three,
But that reality does not set me free.
I also remember winning an award for art,
but Mom's lack of reaction broke my heart.
So very many times in my young years,
I expected joy but got only (my own) tears.
So for 60 years I held love at bay,
Unwilling to chance that love might not stay.
Until one day there came a man,
Who held out to me his heart and hand.
I looked at him with wondering eyes,
and considered that I might give love a try.
And you, dear readers, know how that did end,
so I put on a face, I do pretend.
But when forced to face my fears,
even after all of these years,
I fall apart, I panic in tears.
Where is the love and support I crave?
Why do I have to alone be brave?
My battle seems so everlasting.
I soldier onward, I do keep trying.
So Strong on the outside I remain,
but on the inside I do feel drained.
The book does talk about the subtle "constant drain" from old wounds in our lives.
It's part of the reason we feel we can never get ahead, never feel okay in relationships or indeed with ourselves!
We have to tend those wounds and heal them!
As I listened to my inner child, I began to
remember, and in some cases
re-live traumas. There is a fine line between listening for what our inner child needs
from our now "adult self" and getting lost IN your past! A therapist is recommended!
While I am glad to have a frame of reference, it is wise to remember I CAN NOT
CHANGE THE PAST! I need to create boundaries between then and now!
think on these things only a LITTLE bit, as needed, and then say ENOUGH
and do something else! Re-ground myself IN THE PRESENT!
I learned a lot about me, from getting a bit mired in my fears. I have found the
tools to help myself STOP ANXIETY & PANIC ATTACKS! (which I have been
prone to, all my life). And that is: GET UP- MOVE! Get off the couch, out of bed
go pet the cat/dog, go for a walk, watch light TV shows, wash the dishes, vacuum
the rugs...do anything physical to help bring your brain back to rational thinking!
As my therapist explained to me, panic attacks (or our reactions to them) takes
place in our "dinosaur brain" - the teeny instinctual part of our brain at the back
of our head/neck... out of that our pure survival instinct is activated and we are in
FLIGHT, FIGHT or FREEZE MODE! Rational/reasoning thinking has gone out
the window (of our minds)... we need to get back to using the FRONT of our brain:
the frontal lobe that is our reasoning selves...and to do that, we need to ground our-
selves...by doing something physical. Also taking physical action helps dissipate the
chemicals our panic has generated: adrenalin, etc. We also need to address in our
reasoning mind, the feelings behind those fears...journal, talk to yourself, etc. and
dare I repeat it? READ THAT BOOK! (see below for title/author) :)
I go along so quietly,
then it comes sneaking up on me,
a brand new song on the radio,
Oh damn, he would have loved it so!
Argh! Emotions give me vertigo!
Here we go again, the feelings deep,
my brain is tired, my heart it weeps!
these memories that pull me back
to sweeter times that I now lack...
I try so hard, to move through this loss,
but oh my, oh dear, the painful cost.
I found my voice, it is my poetry,
I rhyme to set my emotions free.
I stop what I am doing to write it down,
My heart pinches, I can't breath and I frown.
I swirl in a constant ocean of emotional waves.
But there are now, good moments among sad days.
So I keep going, hoping to finally heal.
Even though right now it is so very surreal.
Driving In The Car
Driving in the car today,
Feelings started to hold sway.
Music sings my pain out loud,
The sky grows heavy with dark clouds.
Like a summer thunder storm,
Heartache flashes, tears are born.
There is a subtle sweetness to my pain,
like raindrops that fall, fade, and come again.
*I cannot more Highly Recommend the book*
The Journey from Abandonment to Healing: Turn the End of a Relationship into the Beginning of a New Life by Susan Anderson.
It's not "just" for loss of relationships...there is huge value in reading it for any crisis that brings on Abandonment PTSD!
Go to the Top of Poetry Page I for an index of all the Poetry pages! OR!-Just change the number
in the url address to the next higher one, and hit enter to go to that page faster!
I have so many pages, it's getting crazy for my dyslexic mind to keep adding
individual links to each page thereafter. I am up to 13 pages as of this update with more always on the way!