Sick of running

Sick of running-

Emily H. Sturgill

May 4, 2015

So sick and tired of running-running away from my feelings/running away from my lover/running away from my best friend/

So sick of running away from this man who im in love with/Its been almost fifteen years now/cannot deny/the more i love/

the higher i fly.

im sick of running.

i am done with the rewind process.

i blink. i cry. i open my eyes.

suddenly stuck back on the rewind.

and its there again. im the misfit. i am only 18. i am running away again.

i run away from my parents home again and again repeatedly.

i run away from the man who loves me-

because of this fear-this phobia-the things i do not dare-to face myself.

So sick and tired of running-running away from my feelings/running away from my lover/running away from my best friend/

So sick of running away from this man who im in love with/Its been almost fifteen years now/cannot deny/the more i love/

the higher i fly.

I am so deeply sorry for my stubborn refusal/to face myself/in a mirror.

I am so sick of running away/deep down/somewhere/inside/i am scared/so i hide./terrified/

So sick and tired of running-running away from my feelings/running away from my lover/running away from my best friend/

So sick of running away from this man who im in love with/Its been almost fifteen years now/cannot deny/the more i love/

the higher i fly.

I am sick of running./i want to just stay home with you/i want to stay/always/near you./im scared/i will lose you./

I cannot promise/that this fear/won’t overcome me/again./but im attempting/to face my demons./to slay them./

So sick and tired of running-running away from my feelings/running away from my lover/running away from my best friend/

So sick of running away from this man who im in love with/Its been almost fifteen years now/cannot deny/the more i love/

the higher i fly.

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Not enough

Not enough-

Dec 26th, 2014

Friday Afternoon 2:49 EST

Not enough

Never enough

Not enough

sleep.

Not enough,

to eat.

Not enough,

to touch the sky & kidnap the Sun.

Not enough, to learn how to fly,

just enough to become

untied

undone.

Not enough to reach outwards and find it.

Not enough to reach out, and grab the happy

right off someone else’s face,

because my happy

its become erased

misplaced

lost confusion.

It’s just not enough,

to fix up this place.

It’s not enough to straighten

this room, to clean between the cracks, to sweep

a broom across this dusty room

deep inside my minds eye.

Not enough,

to touch the sky & kidnap the Sun.

Not enough, to learn how to fly,

just enough to become

untied

undone.

It’s not enough to

try to run, to sprint, to finish

the race.

I’m fresh out of lungs

the air is too sharp, cold and dry-

It’s not enough,

to just sit here

waiting for you

to get home.

It’s not enough, to be a failure as a housewife,

to be a successful lunatic

with a Masters Degree

and no job prospects.

It’s not enough

to be a crazy person,

living on SSDI, it’s not enough, to always

live in someone else’s shadow

it’s not enough

to be the ghost

you can come home

and answer too.

Don’t you understand?

My wings may have melted, because I flew

too closely to the Sun

but I have dreams too.

I do not long to be

someone else’s

no one.

Not my circus, not my monkeys…

An old proverb
has been circling the
cybersphere lately…
Not my circus, not my monkeys.

I ponder its meaning.
As I re-examine
lost souls in my life.

sometimes the drama
is much too great
much too overwhelming
to engage in.

Not my circus, not my monkeys.
As I imagine cotton candy
high wire acts, a circus of
clowns.

Sometimes you can care
for a person quite
a lot but you do not
wish to go down the dark
hole of a tunnel
within them.

You try to lend
a helping hand
to lead them out of their darkness.

but as you try to grasp
for them their hand
just disappears and vanishes
into deep depression.

and its like a tornado
has a hold of them
and they are trying to
pull you down with their ship
like someone who is
only interested
in drowning.

and then you whisper
shellshocked,
not my circus.
not my monkeys.

Fright on a Friday Night:

I got a phone call

early today to set up,

yet another job interview.

Most would feel excitement,

eagerness like the way the dog pulls,

on his leash during a fun walk outside

on a fall day.

I do not.

I am scared to get my hopes up.

I have had many interview opportunities,

yet barely any job prospects,

to the point,

I must reflect,

I somehow interview badly.

So instead of excitement,

or eagerness, it is this fear

that grabs me.

It’s a bit like stage-fright.

It’s like walking a tightrope without/

a safety-net/

and who will-?

catch me if I fall again?

Because I just might, stumble, stutter, fall

face-forward into this Stage-fright.

Falling, failing all over again..

covering myself with my “Ums”

as the guns go off/

as questions get fired at me/

rapid quick/

will I just look like another

dimwit? Or worse yet,

will I be the babbling brook/

that never ceases to quit, its flow, spewing

out irrelevant data, due to a nervous

bipolar mouth twitch?

Is there a way to steady myself,

against more rejection/

as I tell myself I want to work

again-more than anything.

Fright Falls

onto my Friday night.

endurance

Running up that big hill,

Running out of breath,

I have no endurance-no strength left.

 

Running up the wall,

Running up the street,

Running all sideways,

the stars beneath my feet.

 

a troubled mind

tries to find the time

to create a story-

or weave a rhyme.

 

a writers mind,

always running-no where to go,

just running on steam,

among broken dreams.

 

Running up that hill,

Running towards free-will,

Running towards a notion or two,

or three.

 

Finding a moment,

covered in honesty reaching for,

glee.

 

Poetry always reminds me,

to find myself,

I must forget all else-

letting the raw ideas flow-

right through me,

like one in a trance.

 

Riddles, sphinx, pyramids

Ancient stuff, it is all a mystery-

entirely over my head-

way beyond me.

 

But Poetry, my Muse

she whispers to me in my left ear, lightly,

she says just that I should run-

run freely until I reach the Sun.

 

Running up the wall,

Running up the street,

Running all sideways,

the stars beneath my feet.

 

Running up that big hill,

Running out of breath,

I have no endurance-no strength left.

wiccan11 Picture 94 IMAG0900

 

 

At the edge

I sit here

at the edge.

Realizing that my life

is nearly half-over.

I just turned 39 roughly 8 weeks ago.

My concerns are much different

than the average Gal.

I’m blessed that genetically- i still get carded for things

I could easily pass for 20 something,

yet here i sit on the edge of 40.

Not many wrinkles, or even gray hairs-

none of that concerns me anyways.

My concern, is much more personal.

I feel like I have barely begun.

That I have not done much so far-in my life.

that I have so many dreams still to accomplish,

that I have yet to leave my mark or stamp on things.

that no one will remember me years hence

when I am gone.

It saddens me greatly-to have never had children.

I feel I have no legacy,

besides poetry and artwork,

and in times of twilight

those too will surely fade away.

I will be like the sand at the shore then.

The sand that goes in and out with the tide

disappearing at your feet

like it never was there really at all.

The brain trap

So surprised and relieved,

to be free

of all the tricks my brain played on me.

The brain trap,

is a very dark place-

filled with negative

spaces.

My imagination likes

to get carried away into the

deepest darkest cracks

of the brain trap.

It’s the pondering that is

the worst,

if i am not overly cautious-

if will carry me away

in a black hearse.

The brain trap

contains; various toys of self-doubt,

depression, despair,fear and loathing…

when I am stuck deep inside myself-

I just want to cry & shout:

STOP IT!!!STOP IT RIGHT NOW!!!

SHUT UP ALREADY..

enough already.

But sometimes, somehow, someway;

the gray clouds lift and part

the sun comes out

to shine the darkness away.

Relief comes in waves today.

So, see things are not as bad,

as they seemed.

Surprisingly, I take a deep breath,

and my demons go away.

Sometimes somewhere deep inside,

of us all lies a brain trap.

Your brain will lie to you, on occasion,

it happens to both the best & worst of us.

Do yourself a favor,

if your mind is playing tricks, lying and twisting

logic on a stick

do not let it convince you.

Usually in Life nothing is purely,

black nor white,

but a shady color of gray-

life lies in-between.

Do not let yourself fall beneath,

a overwhelming sea

of negativity & anxiety

fight back.

 

Do not despair,

fight the brain trap.

Hopes are dashed disappointed merging with depression:

Apparently, they only called to say that they,

“like” me, but not enough to actually “hire” me.

Whipee! I have gotten my fair share of phone calls,

that fall into this category.

She wanted to keep my application on file for future

reference-(so they reject me again? oh boy!) Sure is how I answered.

She also wanted to pass my application along,

to other agencies that they work with-

Sure, great, I said-

as I could feel my brain on meltdown,

the feeling of dread…nobody ever is going to hire me?

wth?

As much, as i try to remain focused and positive,

I keep getting massive and multiple rejections,

at each and every fork in the world…

 

At the end of our conversation, she could not wait

to tell me what an “awesome artist” I am.

Very talented. Not everybody is so lucky.

as an art therapist, i really disregarded, the compliment.

 

I felt literally-and still feel-that that is total bullshit.

I did not verbally say that to her,

instead I explained as an Art therapist, I believe that

Everybody has the power to make art- all it takes is practice.

 

No, no, no she assured me, “You have a Gift.”

 

Well yes, I do. I have the gift of never finding a damn job…

I’ve been looking over 18 months.

I am either OVER-qualified OR UNDER-qualify.

 

I can never get it right.

Getting so frustrated,

just wanna give up this dumb fight.

 

Her ugly limited view of god

IMAG0907 (1)My sister and i

were on the telephone,

when i mentioned my husband and self-

maybe seeking an annulment

in order to get a portion of my social security

benefits restored.

She was furious with me.

She gave me a huge angry lecture,

citing the importance of Love,

and the sanctity of marriage.

It come out of nowhere,

this fright train of outrage.

She stream-rolled me, with

I would not end my marriage-

over such a small amount of money Emily.

this she said with words made of bees

not of honey….her quick judgement of me.

This extra amount of money would be

in fact quite insignificant to my sister.

Yet compared to us and all of our struggles;

Her and her husband live on the high horse-

She herself has never even acquired a

4 year bachelors degree-yet she has made it-

achieving much, in the world of hospital administration.

She was lucky to achieve so much with so little education-

just the sweat of her brow and making it up the

food chain by sheer hard work and lots of luck.

Myself, I hold a high school diploma, a bachelors degree in Fine Arts,

and a Masters Degree in Education: Art Ed and Art Therpy-

I also hold an unraveling mind

trapped beneath the glass,

of mental illness.

I too, have worked very hard for everything that life has given me.

The difference of course, is i roughly earn

only 6,000$ per year from ssdi.

She I am sure earns well over 50,000$

plus her spouse also works-he is a republican,

a private businessman.

My spouse works too, yet barely above

the minimum wage. He cuts meat for a living,

a honest job-yet does not count as high paying.

I do not consider us to be “greedy”people.

I also do not consider us to be”godless”.

he is an atheist and I am Wiccan.

She was attacking me,

verbally on the grounds of the sanctity of marriage & her ugly limited,

view of her God-not mine-not understanding-

I no longer follow her bible-

the law she swallows,

things we were taught as small children.

These beliefs instilled in her outrage,

that i could consider ending a loving marriage

just to earn a increase in monthly benefits…

She has not walked a mile in my shoes.

She does not understand how difficult it can be-

to subside on only $6,000 for an entire year.

Yes, I am married.

Yes, I do love my husband.

But is it wrong for me to want better for us?

When i have been looking for even a part-time job,

for over 18 months….

had countless interviews,

but no callbacks…

is it wrong for me to end a formality,

a paper contract between he and i,

that would increase my SSDI benefits,

by over double the amount they are now?

Is it fair to my husband,

that he pay for everything

and I do not pay my share?

She advised me to simply quit smoking.

This is a brilliant idea-

I often encounter by non-smokers.

As if it were simply that easy to stop?

Besides even if I did quit that would only free up 350-400$ per month.

Nothing like, the over $800 in benefits, i lost

by marrying my heart, true love, the man of my dreams.

At the time, I did not think losing,

all that money would be so hard.

At the time, just over 2 years ago,

I thought i would earn a nice income-

from a masters degree in art therapy.

but i did not.

and now, my older sister berates me,

on the importance of the sanctity of marriage,

and the strength of marriage vows.

Please do not beat me up with guilt,

over your limited and narrow definition of God.

That is not my God nor my Goddess.

We believe in separate things entirely.

Your ugly, limited view of God and all that

that must contain.

Beating me up with the Religion of my childhood,

Trying to prevent me from committing an unknown sin.

Your God is not my God.

My God does not sit upon a shelf,

trapped between ivory pages

of a little yet well known book-

that is used in many purposes to do more harm than good.

Sleeping slowly improving…

Since I’ve been back home-

I guess since Tuesday, or Weds or Thursday,

of last week- my sleep has been slowly improving.

 

This makes my husband very happy.

Although, I have been smoking

cigarettes, much worse than ever.

That is highly upsetting to him.

 

I try to explain that, no its not forever,

that i am trying to readjust to

the beauty which is

us.

 

That I am trying to cope,

with a hypo-manic stroke of luck-

a mild mania or mixed state,

It was not great, to have yet

another episode,

even if it was a smaller one.

 

My doctor says even though I have

been having more episodes than usual the past

2 years- that they all have been mild,

She sees that as a vast improvement.

 

It’s funny-in the strangest sense-

how many new people I met,

and how many did not really realize,

that something was a bit off with me.

 

The only ones who knew for sure,

were my husband-who i became paranoid of-

and my doctor-because she’s good

at her job and some sort of pro

at deciphering the Madness.

 

My sleep is getting better.

I am feeling much more relaxed.

All of which is good.

 

I’ve been in plans for leading

an Artist Talk-Art therapy workshop,

later this month,

We have been planning it at least 3 or 4 months.

 

The open art therapy studio and I.

I was kind of frightened I may,

have some sort of episode

and make an ass, of myself.

 

Now that I have had a shorter and milder

episode, all my meds were basically increased

so that means, I do not have to fear,

another episode for a while.