The mythology behind being female

The Mythology behind being female:

Emily Sturgill

Thursday, March 26, 2015

The Mythology behind being female:

We are taught from the time

we are very little that what matters most

is how you look on the outside

not how you really feel.

Are you pretty enough?

No, well then we have lots of stuff

let’s add some eyeliner, lipstick and a bit of blush.

Do not dress like a tomboy or wear your sweatpants

outside the house.

Do not forget to paste a smile and pretend it’s all better

because all those teardrops darling

will turn to rust

because it’s the outside the matters most

it’s the pastel shingles on your exterior house

do not show them your true colors

don’t display fear like a mouse

don’t throw tantrums like children do

it’s unbecoming beneath the beauty

of you.

The Mythology behind being female:

Do not forget to paste a smile and pretend it’s all better

because all those teardrops darling

will turn to rust.

The mythology of being female

suggests a magical facade, and a white picket fence.

Girls should never get angry, defensive or dirty.

Girls should always play nice.

But sometimes the wildness in me

unleashes a feminist and I feel

like my exterior has cracks, my mascara runs, I get angry

I cry easily, I put on those ugly sweatpants

and I refuse to act lady like.

I embrace all my curves, the ones I was “taught”

are called ugly or fat.

The Mythology behind being female:

Sometimes despite the Mythology of being Female

I get annoyed, I get outraged, and I fight back.

against all the stereotypes that say

I should always put others first.

I should always play nice.

I should look pretty

and put a smile of my face.

because sometimes even when

I am trying to blend in

even when I am attempting to be

the ideal perfect version of me?

sometimes I just do not care at all.

 

Do not forget to paste a smile and pretend it’s all better

because all those teardrops darling

will turn to rust, then what comes next?

Nobody likes hanging out with a hurricane.

Nobody enjoys an un-lady like version

of crass, profane, selfish, uncompassionate

messy looking, emotional lunacy

a loud version of profanity

and ultimately a vulgar shadow

of a hysterical woman

this collides with the Mythology of being

female.

 

thinking too much

thinking too much…

12/31/14

thinking too much…

about all this crap & such.

i’ve been walking the highwire

for quite a while

and i’ve been struggling to deal

with things

and wounds

and people

who never heal.

 

everytime i try

to reach out & ask for help

people look at me like

i am way beyond crazy.

 

as if i were not living in

an ultra stressful situation

with my own sanity

constantly in question?

 

i don’t even know

how many ways

i’ve attempted or even tried

to say:

 

this is far too much for me

to handle

this is far too much for US

to handle

this is far too much for your brother

to handle…

 

you take it for granted

that we will always take care

of her for You.

 

But what if I can’t?

What if I told you, it’s straining our marriage,

its too much to deal with

She is constantly on the offensive

I feel like I am always under attack.

 

Her constant complaining.

Her constant screaming, cursing and yelling.

Her never-ending depressions.

 

I have a Serious Mental Illness.

Christ-if you cannot deal with her,

with the hell makes You think?!

that I can??

 

I feel like trying to cut my wrists.

To bleed a bit.

Just to alleviate-all this pain.

 

i feel like i am losing my mind.

i feel like i am clearly insane.

i feel like you do not give a

damn.

 

How long do you expect us-

to deal with all this

Mother stuff?

 

When do I get what you have?

A peaceful house alone with my husband-

why is that impossible for you to

understand?

 

thinking too much…

about all this crap & such.

i’ve been walking the highwire

for quite a while

and i’ve been struggling to deal

with things

and wounds

and people

who never heal.

Resentment in my garden

Resentment in my garden-

I often turn to You

when I have problems or issues with

your Mother, because I cannot interact

with her the same way you do.

 

You act like I am such a Fool

for bothering You.

For asking you to handle certain things.

It’s unfair of You,

to get angry with Me-

 

for being unable,

to constantly be taking care of her

and her emotional turmoil

her constant waves

of instability.

 

You clearly expect Me,

to just shut up & deal with it.

Your at work!

This is not your problem!

You know what?

 

This is your problem!!!

She is Your Mother-not Mine.

I have more than enough

of my own issues.

 

So if I contact you -once in a

great while-please do not act

like it’s not your problem,

like I am the one

with all this dirt upon my hands.

 

You expect me & your youngest brother,

to just shut up & take care

of her all the time!!

 

there is resentment in my garden.

It grows there like ivy

I envy You

quite honestly.

You cannot even stand to be around her

for more than 30 minutes at a time…

Yet you expect me to pick up the slack,

and constantly try to deal with her

 

You could help the situation.

But you pretend its a non-issue.

For You perhaps it is.

there is resentment in my garden.

It grows there like ivy

I envy You

quite honestly.

You cannot even stand to be around her

for more than 30 minutes at a time…

Yet you expect me to pick up the slack,

and constantly try to deal with her

 

 

But for us, we deal with her daily.

 

24/7 no breaks involved.

It’s unfair to everybody involved.

Yet you refuse to see,

how being one of Your Mothers

caretakers-takes a toll on me.

 

the Monster of me

the Monster of me-

12/27/14

by Emily Sturgill

the Monster of me-

you cannot see

from the outside, but,

on the inside

there is a Monster of me.

deep inside a divided mind-

there is a Monster of me

It’s ugly, and messy,

It’s broken, jagged, sharpen edges

with rotted teeth

with the violet violence of despair.

Deep down inside me,

lies horrible truths, like Anger, Depression, Sadness and Fear.

it eats away at me from the inside out.

leaving nothing but

this empty shell

of a young looking pretty

40 something, crazy cat-lady,

bag lady, bag lady, i’ve been there before.

the Monster of me

is what you cannot see.

I appear normal enough

but i am raw to the touch.

and the tears just flow

like a faucet with way too much

draino.

I can appear to be

almost anything. Confident, witty or artsy-

or quiet and shy,

but deep down inside

an unraveling mind,

lies the Truth

I am mentally ill.

I am dangerous

I am to be feared

and never understood.

I am just another anonymous Statistic

I am just another runaway lunatic

I am just another victim

of my own unhinged mind.

I live with bipolar disorder

and that feels like a Crime.

the Monster of me

i keep her chained to the bed

on a dirty mattress

She’s the darkest deepest secret

the Horror in my head.