Answers

 I have run out of answers,

Stay by my side

And hold my hands.



Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The medicine in sitting with rejection

Sitting with rejection is a bitter medicine. Hard to swallow, hard to sit with. Yet, it's the best one, to help break oneself out of people pleasing. It's a medicine for us,  people who are trying to unlearn people pleasing. Some time ago in the past When I was rejected,  I never sat with it. I tried to please people, to make them happy, to serve them, what they exactly needed, resources, reassurance, help, therapy, information, advice, right questions, answers, suggestions, space, to feel their emotions for them So, they would accommodate me. Now, it feels bitter  So bitter that it makes me anxious, to be rejected. It's so hard to let people be themselves,  when that self of them doesn't want me in their life, as a reciprocal relationship, as a person with needs. I know, I had stopped people-pleasing, aint good for the soul. It means, to sit with rejection. To let people be people as they are, towards me too. How hard, how bitter Rejection feels, to be excluded. Esp...
Read more

Rage

 If I am mad , The embers will burn you,  before you enter my world. That way, you cannot hurt me. Cause I only feel powerful when I shame, blame and shout at you, When my wounds are cut open in the slightest  Those embers will burn me, Until I learn to love myself,  Until I learn boundaries, Until I am wise and feel safe enough to open my heart And invite in love.
Read more

Tea party

 How long could we have  wrapped our anxieties in familiarity, and kept our boat going? One look and I saw death trailing beneath. Sorry, I looked back again, For I was beginning to heal I was beginning to feel the anxiety  Beneath all the familiarity. I invited my anguish for tea, with us And death came in too For it was inevitable  And you were gone as we three had tea, together. And I complained about you, all that time. How you didn't sit with death. For it was our home And death was all but a visitor But I saw you leave. With death, came clarity And you were gone by autumn Though the marcescence in me remembers
Read more