The last couple of weeks have shown me with intense clarity that I have been on a rollercoaster of disempowerment that started with a client suiciding over two years ago and ended in a big crash over the smallest loose screw a few days ago.
So the roller coaster crashed. Into a maze.
In absolute honesty and years of intense personal scrutiny I announce I did not build this entrapment.
Two days ago, early in the morning, after waving my currently rather difficult son off to the school, I sat with the knowledge that my bank balance was unexplainable minus, the pantry was empty, the body out of whack, an addiction was winning, I had no idea about how I was going to make sure my kid ate this weekend and all with the knowledge that an institutional service wants me to seek “understandable disability status”.
But none of this was as bad as the sense of absolute exhaustion and victimization I felt. And rage. Anyone whose known my life knows I am not a wimp. I’ve pulled myself out of some whirlpools before.
But the facts are undeniable that over the last year every time I’ve struck out to escape the maze something has occurred outside of my control to kick me straight back into it.
And then, the other morning, I went into town. And a newish friend saw me and said;
“Why aren’t you looking after yourself? Why are you hiding?’
Little did she know I could have slapped her down right there and then :). Lucky for us both that I’d learnt over my forty-seven years that folk who shit us the most are usually our greatest angels!
And I knew, despite all my righteous indignation…despite all the absolutely justified reasons to bow my head under the weight of it all…despite all my justified righteous rage, despite my medical conditions…
Only I can look after me.
So it has always been.
So it is.
Thus, in that vein, in order to put some ghosts to bed I wrote.
It may not have personal meaning to you but I share it because I know there are many of us right now, sitting in pain…justified pain…and feeling all the rage and grief like I’ve experienced.
Clearly I am not a poet. I am speaking to no one and everyone…to specific incidences and vague temptations. You know who you need to speak too.
Don’t Pull me down. Not with your hate. Not with your god. Not with your penis
Don’t Pull me down. Not with your alcohol. Not with your judgement. Not with your pity.
Don’t Pull me down. Not with your rules. Not with your baggage. Not with your lies.
Don’t Pull me down. Not with your prejudice. Not with your power trips. Not with your projection.
Don’t Pull me down. Not with your budget. Not with your cost cutting. Not with your business model.
Don’t Pull me down. Not with your suicide. Not with your cruelty. Not with your economic imperative.
Don’t pull me down. Not with your diagnosis. Not with your drugs. Not with your sympathy.
And Please don’t Pull me down with your prophecies of doom.
I am woman Hear me roar
I am that I am.
I will be That I am
And I’ll be fucked if I’ll let it be any other way!
Only you can care for you.
Only you can smash the maze.
Only you can create the life You want Your way.
Doesnt matter how much we desperately want it to be different it aint! So come on, Join me wont you?