Going to get all crazy on WP

9:10 am (Eastern time)

Reading over Facebook Memories, lol ๐Ÿ˜ and noticed a post from February 10, 2012. Sometimes Facebook can be a blessing. Yes?

9:19 am (Eastern time)

Share past post and wrote an epilogue:

Not sure I ever finished these thoughts on RISK… funny how my mom continually told me i was a mess. Who made me this way? Scatter brained. What i call creative. Whirling leaf on the wind… but get me on the dance floor! ๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ•Š๐ŸŽถ Never too late to consider this RISK of searching out who i am. Slowly the picture is becoming clear…beginning to figure me out!! My mom never understood me. Not sure she tried.

9:41 am (Eastern time)

I never posted follow up thoughts to RISK because i lost focus. Was thrown back into the wind and was caught up in the chaos around me. I juggle an impossible six things at once… oh! I feel for Alice.

My goal this week, if any one cares, is to focus on RISK. It will be a challenge as there is much going on behind-the-scenes.

Moving from Indianapolis to Boston means packing, updating the house to sell, going on interviews, and helping my daughter graduate high school.

Moving means all my writing room is packed away and all my posts are being constructed on my phone. Not the most ideal platform, but i keep tapping away.

Moving itself is a risk. So much unknown but i have never felt stronger to journey forward. This turning point is an adventure into the unknown. I am quite excited if you care to know. Banish the naysayers once and for all!

9:48 am ( Eastern time)

I have risked opening up but I welcome it. I was fearful of the voices. I fought and found courage. Confidence is back.

I continue to write. I risk it all. My reputation. People i love exposed.

9:59 am (Eastern)

I shudder at risk. It is cold and feels nothing for me. Risk is bold and i am small in comparison. But i rise to the challenge. I crack open again. Both to release the venom and soak up the water spilled from the sky. I am a walking desert afraid to cry. I have been on this horse running from terror and now terror invites me in.

Terror

restless found
no satisfaction in your
surrender to violent sleep.

voices tiptoe, listening
directing the nightmare to be
while shadows poison the outcome.

succumbing to the terror,
cold feet and
flattery brought you through -knowing

there was no chance
to survive in that world,
but here you stand in front of me, alive.

going through this frenzy

purchasing books

every title imaginable about

suicide and why, these voices reside

build a home, hoping to rest -a while.

A while later, it all starts again,

depression, anxiety, r.d. laing…

this divided self reads jung and admires van Gogh

the Plath’s and Woolf’s of this world

we meet-up, browse universal thoughts, written in black

being ghosts of past

haunting our minds today.

Tip of the iceberg

Alice quietly took a path..
and never stopped walking, wondering, “Why just the tip…see the whole. We are not parts, dissociated.”

Growing up we become broken
storing away dreams to visit
once we cross the bridge.

The best gift i ever gave myself was to see a therapist.
He helped me see myself. All the parts. The ones forgotten.

I slowly bring the puzzle,
sorting pieces,
matching edges,
looking at my whole.
Being, a beginning.
I am alive.

Not absent of pain but forging through darkness.

An ever lingering landscape.
Fear and denial still escape.
Haunting my happiness.
Feeling both at once.
Falling into Alice’s rabbit hole.
The rabbit always late.

i need time…time is all i have.