A storm is coming, we
Can feel it deep
Inside our bones,
We have lost the will to
Make the clock move
Forward
When we’ve already lost
Our only home
Return to sender, we’re
The firsthand offender, a
Coward in wolves clothing, torn
ripped, and cheaply
Sewn
Raised in violence, keep every pain
In silence,
(No one cares once eighteen comes to
Town, just make sure to
hit the ground)
It’s not like anyone will be
waiting around
We won’t be what they’ve been
Searching for and we won’t be
What they have finally
Found
There is no one to embrace
Anymore,
There is nothing we have left
To leave at the door
(What a goddamn bore
We must be when
They don’t come
Around)
But we can drown out the
Sound
After all, the voices are starting
To become quite
Loud
I think I hear a storm is
Coming soon
~ A. L. Stippich
Head(space)
“unbeingdead isn’t beingalive”
e. e. cummings
Another draft from the beginning of December for my fellow winter, bluesy babes because vulnerability is all I got left. Hang in there folks, it’s war out there.
~
I hate the cold season.
In the warmer seasons, I already tend to feel fidgety and anxious when saying out loud ‘I am not well, at the moment.’ There are many reasons for this, of course, but none of the reasons help ease the discomfort. The cold just makes it worse.
It’s come back in spades over the most recent weeks, whether it’s a sound or a phrase, the instance of the holiday season, or the ever timeless triggering social media post. A collection of tiny things haphazardly stacking themselves on top of each other.
I have not been able to write much lately. Dealing with medical issues while in a phase where I am just trying to get through the work day so that I can kiss my husband, potentially eat food, maybe touch yarn, and sleep (maybe even pet a cat or two). I rarely have the energy to take care of myself. Showering feels like hiking up the side of a mountain and back down again and then by the time I am clean, it’s time to go back to sleep. It’s the time of year where waking up causes anxiety and depression because you were hoping, just hoping, for things to look different that morning.
I’ve held on to this fleeting notion that I’ve experienced so much growth and change over 2021. Starting another book, sharing my story unashamed, speaking up, speaking out, and being honest (for the most part). Trying. Just trying. It’s amazing how one moment, one sound, one human, even, holds all the potential to rip it all away in a day. Suddenly the growth is just taking ten steps back to square one. The thought, feeling, floods of worry have hit the front lawn. You are nothing again and everything is doomed.
Well, of course this isn’t true, but the mind IS a terrible thing.
It cannot be put into words the gratefulness I feel when I step back (forced or otherwise) and remember those who hold space for me when I am unable. People who let me vent when I do not understand what is happening to me, and who remind me I am loved when myself and others have convinced me I am not. No strings attached. No gaslighting. No risks of abandonment or loss. Just being allowed to have feelings and reminded I am loved despite them and how illogical they may be. Sometimes feelings are just that. Feelings. But they still matter.
I have started to have a love/hate relationship with my occasional ability to wear my heart on my sleeve now. Just tell it like it is. Where I am in life, what I’m feeling; my hurts. Currently, I really hate it. My ‘standing naked in a crowd’ is set somewhere cold and my feet feel like ice.
No matter my particular feelings in this case, however, I know there are other humans out there feeling the exact same kind of empty and hopeless. Sometimes it’s just nice to know we are not alone in feeling alone.
This time of year is such a trigger for so many, it does not matter how much you physically or mentally attempt to prepare for it. It can feel heavy and endless. The days of roller coaster emotions will feel like eternity. I am so sorry if you are one of those many.
It’s going to be ok. We are going to be ok.
For those feeling the same: I see you, I understand you, and you are loved.
~
Cheerios,
XOXO
Internal II (wanderer)
there is someone wandering around
on the inside of my
head
she and i are not the same
and she often wishes I were
dead
she whistles haunting tunes, a sickly sweet
into my
ear,
a restless hum of seething rage
to fill my veins with
endless fear
she bids the sorrow that wears me
thin,
the curtains veiling a hollow
skin, (a shell of a girl)
one day closer to the eventual
end,
and i know, she will be the very last friend
i ever see
~ A. L. Stippich
April Showers
The month of March has really beat me to a pulp, hence the lack of posts. Sometimes the emotional ups and downs in mental health are just too much and the idea of practicing vulnerability feels more like horror and suffocation and makes me want to hide forever.
With that being said, I am going to attempt to start April fresh with a hearty month of poetry (and plants. And yarn…).
Enjoy.
Internal
i just want to hold us and make us feel new we’ve been in this space and we’ve always been two i’ve grown such a fondness for what we could do, would you cling to my hand if I reached out for you? (To suggest such a thing would make fools, of us both I would suffocate, snap, and Twist you like Rope, I would tear through your Soul, if you gave me Your reins, would the thought of me still Be one And the same?) i am sorry we are not, though i’ll always give it thought, I will watch you from over here but know that I will always be near, so don’t fear for the day, when you are ready to shed that first tear i am always going to be right here ~ A. L. Stippich
Life at the Burrow 