Looking For Catharsis
I am told you will festerif I don't get you out.
But without the money to do so,
fester you must.
I tell myself almost every day
that you don't bother me,
that there's no need for remembrance.
But I am lying to myself.
I'm so tired of reminders.
And they all think
I'm not worth the time,
I don't have a heart
or a mind
worthy of their concern.
These realizations burn.
I went to the painted toe-nail lady,
she had little flowers on her red polish,
colorful sandals,
smiling eyes.
And after each session she prayed.
She said she cared.
She also said that she had to charge me something
above what insurance paid
because unless people invested in their therapy,
they wouldn't make the effort.
I am sorry to inform the woman
that not everyone has money flowing from their pockets,
and some people (like me) would attend therapy regularly
if it were free.
When I could no longer bear the burden
of worrying about it,
I had to stop going.
And I told her so.
Now I've no one to talk to
and I'm dying yet again,
and I'm sinking.
No one ever wanted to take care of me.
Not my mother, not my father,
no one ever wanted
to look out for me when I was younger,
so who would care now
for the adult
trying to be what I never had for myself
to my daughter,
my husband.
There was no one to show me
who to be.
And no one to worry
what would be,
no one to look after me.
And I've tried so hard to overcome
these things.
And still no one gets it,
still they want to judge me
for mistakes I never made.
So for those who still don't understand:
I never had a bicycle to ride,
so, no, I don't know how to ride one.
And I never had grandparents around,
and I never had friends as a teen,
and I never got to attend high school,
and I never got to date,
and I never luxuriated or basked in the glow
of a mother who cared about my social or academic life,
or worried about my future
so, no, I don't understand
your life,
and no,
I can't sympathize
with your petty problems:
how your life sucks
because your parents are so terrible,
though you have every single thing
I ever wanted but can never have.
And maybe these thoughts,
this longing I have
even to this day
to be adopted and cared for
are a sign of my regression,
a desire to be a child
and re-live my life again
but they are just as valid
as anyone else's
and yet to be validated
by just about all I know in my every day, real life.
My mother won't admit
anything,
my in-laws can't relate
to me-
they wish I were a vapor, a dream,
so they could have someone else
in their little pretentious family-
someone who came from a two parent, 2.5 children,
two car garage household
where mother drove the kids around to ball games,
and wanted an education for them,
instead of expecting them to be
her chauffeur, her own personal care-taker,
her meal ticket.
And where father worked to pay the bills
and maybe even built a tree house for them,
instead of getting high, getting drunk,
losing his temper and his job,
and giving his child the finger at the age of seven
as the police drove him away.
And still I'm trying,
head barely above water,
but I swear I'm gonna sink
before they find me.
Poetry by intothehaze
Read 886 times
Written on 2005-10-05 at 23:56
Tags Sadness
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