a sinking feeling

a sinking feeling by Emily Sturgill 6/24/14

a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
and your leaving for work
as you kiss me goodbye

all I see on your face
is anger and hurt.

a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
your disappointed in me
once more again

somehow, some way I
have let you down again.
and there is no time
for words or apologies.

a sinking feeling,
as the ship goes down,
I can see with one look
your angry with me

a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
I do not even have or own
the magical words

of saying I’m sorry,
because you do not share
whatever wrong I’ve done.
this day is off to a rocky start.

a sinking feeling
as the ship goes down,
with one angry look
you cracked my heart.

split it halfways
like two sides
of a cracked raw
egg yolk.

a sinking feeling,
as the ship goes down,
as I sit here in a precursor to all my tears,
I know you’d throw me overboard in a second

hoping that this time
I would splash, sink, sputter
and finally
drown.

as the ship goes down.

Advertisements

Today’s a much brighter Sunny day:

Today’s a much brighter Sunny Day,

perhaps not on the outside,

but on my insides-which is more vital-it’s where,

the flowers of my soul grow.

It’s where the soil is rich, deep dark yet tender.

Like firm dark chocolate.

The roots start to twist & tangle,

as they release and begin to feed and grow,

deep inside my soul.

Today’s a much brighter Sunny day.

Perhaps not on the outside,

but on my insides which is much more vital-more alive-more urgent.

Very importantly, the insides are sunny-

from there Hope begins to grow,

building up to a Good Mood- a peaceful day.

Last night WE-my husband & I-

both somehow “earned” or “achieved” or “mastered”,

more sleep.

We both woke up happy & and in Love still.

It was very nice-to awaken to so much happiness.

Hope makes the flowers of my soul grow-

what do you plant deep beneath a wall of sleep?

What do you carry deep inside you?

Where do you hide your secrets?

Where do you keep your dreams?

Do they ever come true for you?

Mine do.

Today’s a much brighter Sunny Day.

New Facebook page for Sex in the kitchen Sink

https://www.facebook.com/sexinthekitchensink13?ref=hl

Follow me on facebook please!Picture 149 Warming up with color abstract 2 Fall 2013 Spirals of Song and other poems book cover1 Picture 161 Warming up with color abstract 1 Fall 2013 Abstract oil pastel drawing 99 cover design for words whirl 2013 copy Falling to pieces by EHCato 1999 IMAG0893 IMAG0898 IMAG0897 Art before words new front cover copy back cover art before words3 copy self portrait 05012013 Picture 94 Acrylic mixed media pumice gel painting 1996 canvasboard Spirituality, acrylic and sand on canvasboard 1996 possible coverart1 copy Athena wiccan11 IMG_20130330_093258

Simplicity part 2-dedicated to my friend Erin D.

Picture 161Picture 158Picture 160

Simplicity

2 parts bitter-sweet vinegar

2 parts harmony

one dash of Hope

one sprinkling of Faith,

one Tablespoon full of miracles.

1/2 stick of helplessness melted but not burnt brown.

1/4 cup memories

16 oz of pure, unstrained Love

1 graham pie crust of sorrows

1 can of heavy-whipping cream

2 tbs allspice, 2 tbs cloves, 4 tbs fresh honesty

one classic ceasar salad of velvet covered sadness

one case of dark irish beer…

blend with one bag of Catholic Guilt,

add two whole egg-yolks

add 7 hail-marys and one quart of confessions.

Blend with a twist of hard scotch whiskey, empathy as a orange peel, a cherry

with-out its stem, some liquid courage, one King James version of

The Holy Bible.

Some false idols/some fake friends/those who will swear by you/

yet they disappear in the end?

I trust nobody who says to me, that they will “pray for me,”

I wish i were not a bitch like that, but i totally am-such a bitch.

I am not going to offend them by declining their pray offers-

but i am not going to depend on them for this junk.

I usually merely responded with Thank you-or thank you very much-whatever.

Prayers are both sweet and nice-

if they are done right.

But true friends do more than have private jesus jams/

talks on your behalf.

True friends know when you are sad, And sense when you need to have a small

phone-call chat. true friends listen and practice the,

Fine Art of Allowance-

meaning they allow you to be sad.

They do not try to cram you into a shoebox

with too much duct tape,

and scrawl the word “Happy”

onto your head-in order to make themselves feel better.

Real friends want you to feel better,

but when you get around to it.

Real friends allow you,

to simply FEEL.

They allow you to be-

They allow you to grieve and to suffer.

They realize there is no universal time clock on

one feeling verses another.

I wrote this out for a friend of mine.

Her mane is Erin-we kinda grew up together.

Anyways, her mother just recently passed away due to Cancer,

this past march on st.patricks day.

Erin and her twin Bridget are both my friends.

I did not realize how huge their family is until very recently,

Anyways yesterday, Erin was having a bad day,

and she shared with her fb friends she really missed her mother.

I was completely floored with all the useless facebook comment messages

she was getting. There were just so fake to me.

So i commented myself-and i was not trying to impress facebook-or Erin or anybody else.

I just wished to say something that could comfort Erin and be

totally completely “real” and “honest” with her.

I was just being me, I was just being emily.

She wrote me later, in a private facebook message, Thank you so much , you knew just how I was feeling and how much my messages helped her.

That really made my evening last night.

It is a good feeling to be a good friend to somebody you forever care for,

cherish and sisterly love.

True friendships among women are not always,

easy to find or to maintain.

But once I’ve formed a friendship bond-

with another female- I keep those friends

out and treasure them immensely.

It really takes a whole pile of damages for me,

to no longer consider a woman my friend.

Once a friend, always a friend, at least that is where

my loyalties take me. So many beautiful feminine friends:

Each is like a precious gem or a secret treasure to me.

I LOVE my friends-all of them.

even the cob-webbed covered ancient ones,

those are kind of crunchy

but i just love them all the more-for it!!!!

The Stranger in my Mirror.

Picture 149      Sometimes Shocking to see,

the Stranger in my Mirror, who looks like Me. I recall younger days, thinner versions,

Once upon a time, I was most likely,

just as cocky as Miley-

just not as famous.

What do you do? Once you lose that smooth small stomach,

the perky C bra breasts, the stride in your step, the seduction upon your hips,

the fullness of your lips, when the age of youth disappears,

and you become a M’mam instead of a Miss?

When you look into the mirror, and a stranger sits?

Glaring back at you, dimly-reminding you faintly,

that beauty lies in the beholder-instead of the girth of your thighs.

I am blessed to look many years younger-than I really am.

It’s a trick of my Mothers gene pool.

Wrinkles and gray hair do not scare me-no way-anyway.

I really do not mind.

But sometimes, I look at the Stranger in my Mirror-

and can’t help but think,

I am rocking middle age, despite my Venus Size.

I can still feel beautiful even when there is,

a media war, a rampage of BMI’s, a negativity upon

the average woman who is judged to be

“Plus-sized.” I can still feel my beauty, when my husband

looks at me that way, he once did all those years ago,

into the land of yesterday.

 

Missing an old friend

Missing an old friend.

We have lost touch, over many years,

and perhaps many states as well.

 

Last time he saw me,

I was pretty crazy.

I don’t doubt while he

wants the best for me,

he always wants nothing to do with me.

 

Not only am i crazy,

but i’m somebody else’s wife.

I am only interested in reaching out-

as a friend.

 

I would how his life has turned out,

and where, what, who-has he been?

I don’t think about him,

that much.

 

Just every few months,

he randomly pops into my head.

i search the internet,

for my old lost friend.

 

He has slipped off the face,

of cyberspace.

I miss him, I just wanted to let him know:

my life is better now.

 

I miss talking to him.

There are so few friends,

I can discuss religion and spirituality with.

Oh, Rahula where have you gone?

And are you happy?

Will i ever hear from you again?

 

Depressed slightly

Yesterday, oh how I cried.

Huge horrible torrents of tears.

My husband did not know what to do-

he never really does, when I stumble

backwards into depression again.

My manias are easier for him to understand-

and he’s seen so many more of those-than this.

This black terror fit.

This wave crashing downwards upon me,

crushing me to the bone.

crushing me to my soul.

When I get like this, I cannot help myself;

I collapse in crying fits, jagged waves with razor teeth edges.

I cry so hard,  I barely make a sound-just this gasping breathe-this sobbing mess.

I realize, of course I have so many blessings.

I have a loving husband, for the most part a very happy marriage.

I have many friends. I have a roof over my head, bills are paid, food in the house.

5 lovely fur-pets. A beautiful house and backyard. Our backyard has wonderful

rose bushes.

But despite all the good-the depressions still sneak up upon me.

I cry for the have-nots.

I cry because I cannot find employment.

I have been looking over 18 months.

I cry because I have a history of miscarriages,

and infertility. I cry because I have mental illness, and

no matter how hard I try or which magic pills I swallow

I am still slightly crazy one day to the next.

I feel as though because I have been on disability so long…

that I have no worth as a person. I believe a job or a career

in many ways defines you, and for me? I have nothing but years of blank spaces.

I just recently finished a masters degree. Unfortunately, after I got it, I realized;

it is a slightly useless one. I should have gotten a counseling degree…

instead I got a masters of Education: major in art Ed with a core focus of art therapy.

As lovely as that sounds, nobody will hire me.

I do not even have a teaching certificate.

I owe a fortune in student loans…

This most recent hypomania-back at the end of may-

well it nailed me.

And now I’m spiraling downwards without a staircase.

Frustrations mount.

I struggle with broken-down-hands

to grab the gratitude, the blessings, the happiness

the optimism still there.

There is great love all around in this big beautiful world.

I need to find some deep inside myself, forgive my own

imperfections and share something pretty with the world.

Kali-a Goddess Song

A hurricane sits

upon these hips,

as he watches her

strip-tease in the wildest fashion.

 

A hurricane sits

upon her lips

as she gazes lovingly

at her man.

 

With the flip of her wrist

she can unleash thunderstorms

and chaos if she chooses.

Or she can reach in the dark

for his hand

and claim it as her own.

 

A woman like this

is not easy to love

nor easy to hate

 

She is a force of nature

Something to be reckoned with

sung to, calmed down, and

settled

 

She is like a symphony

which starts out slow but then

has a thundering crescendo.

A man like that

who can charm her, surround her with

friendship love life and flowers.

He is the essence of courage-

just as she is the essence of a storm.

 

marriage counseling and fixing whats not right:

My husband and self, both have many-yet different-emotional scars from our own childhoods.

Sometimes these differences really tear us apart.

I have my reasons-which i will not disclose here-(read my memoirs recalled madness: a personal account of manic-depressive illness by Emily Sturgill 2013-available off Amazon.com for more specific details-)

Anyways, i have my reasons, that

if somebody physical grabs me in anger or is violent at all,

during an argument, i will pretty much cut that person out of my life completely.

If that sounds insane or extreme, I apologize.

However, it is based on how i was raised-that a man should never hit a woman,

nor lay his hands upon her, while in a state of anger/violence.

This is a well-known trigger of mine, that my husband,

has mistakenly set off on separate occasions.

 

For his part- part of his past were living with parents,

who argued/screamed and yelled everyday.

Thus, his trigger is arguing. When and if we argue,

and he feels bad enough to yell or scream – he tries to grab me,

and force me to listen.

 

The intimidation of being grabbed

in anger really sets me off,

i never call the police or press charges.

i simply go into flight or flee mode.

 

i pack my shit and leave.

persons without a history,

of childhood abuse, physical violence,

in my case both parents equally were messed up

until 7th grade when my Dad sought therapy.

 

My mom did not go into therapy until i was 18.

So i don’t even wanna go there-she was also bipolar.

She is the one, i take the most after.

Dad had OCD among other issues.

 

But after he got got help, things were better

for a time-at least better he and I.

Mom was another story entirely.

 

Anyways, about 2 weeks ago,

i was feeling threatened physically by my husband,

so after discussion with 4 different older strong women

in my life i decided to go stay at

a battered woman’s shelter.

 

Because today is the 2 year anniversary

of our wedding and because he apologized

between 5-7 times, i agreed to comeback home.

 

its a work in progress.

but im hopeful , since he’s agreed

to attend therapy his own self-

and face some of his own inner demons.

 

 

 

 

 

the hidden truth

the hidden truth,

is that which haunts me…

everybody thought we were the perfect happy couple…

and I? how could I explain to our friends-our loved ones-

about The Dark Times….

about the hidden Truth?

That i married a classic-type of abuser.

That my beloved husband,

who i “loved” dearly was not only less than ideal,

but i was paranoid fearful of his anger. Of his angry outbursts.

That frequently, i felt unsafe, even during lovemaking.

I was scared he may attempt to kill me.

And i do not know why.

the fear seemed irrational, like another delusion of my bipolar mind.

Until a day two weeks ago where he admitted to “fantasies”?? I’m not sure what you would call then,”ideas” or “plans”?

That if his life ever got bad enough, he would fall back on the notion

of a murder-suicide.

by the way by murder-he meant me specifically and suicide

i guess was for him-not only was this a horrifying thing to say to the one woman who loves you-

it also helped me reach the realization, i was in constant danger.

 

I’ve been hiding out at a battered woman’s shelter.

i finally feel safe again.

it took some skill even in getting here because i had no money and no car.

but i finally made it Saturday afternoon.

 

I blame myself for not leaving sooner.

but in oh-too-many ways it was easier to stay.

 

i am grateful now, for my infertility issues.

that saves me from a lifetime of interaction

with a husband who is crazy.

 

I am so very devastated-that it had to-end this way,

but it was only getting worse.  Now i am facing loved ones with the Hidden Truth.

they do not understand how hard it is to admit….you are a victim.

that somebody scares you half to death.

that this man you “loved” is merely a shadow of his true self,

the side made up of complete anger and irrational darkness.