I’m not what people think. I’m not good or positive or responsible or noble. I’m not happy. I am not just a –anything –THAT is the only fire that kindles my passion.

Every day, I walk the world in intentional numbness. I fog emotion so as to dampen disappointment. I blur reality to handle it. I am not alive. I am not real. My optimism persists in the hope of a future change or an alternate reality.

In a someday.

Yet every day I grow older and fatter and less cognizant. The world of my imagination will never be.

The world is only taxes and dishes and children. The world is not mine to seize anymore; it’s those children’s. I’ve waited too long for me.

All that’s me is a memory, and a mom in a minivan.

Goodbye.

(I’m unplugging for a bit. I’ll post the poetry stuff, for sure; not certain what else, besides.)

49 thoughts on “

  1. I am only a short woman, a sometimes overwhelmed one, that fights her daemons from her glass half full of water. I try to be the best me and succeed in the way only I can. Kind and patient trying to understand. Sometimes it slips above my grasp a grasp too far to reach. So I try to be the best me … one who doesn’t judge or preach. X fogged glass through which we see fragments of you and me.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Nay, nay, our Divine Ms. O, a thousand times nay, until I’m hoarse. Your service to bringing out all the poisons that are in the mud of terrible poetry is all that keeps many of us able to escape our own numbness. You are just as real and alive as those children in the minivan and they are part of your goodness, positivity, responsibility and nobility. Ride not into the sunset of abandoned dreams but greet the dawn of the ever-emerging you that will always be there.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. That’s too sad, Chelsea. We can get very caught up in our ‘mum-ness’ sometimes and it doesn’t seem as if we have our own identify any more. But it’s still there, Chelsea, waiting patiently for your moment to come once again. Which it will.

    Liked by 1 person

  4. It sounds like you feel as I did after my fifth child. I was so alone, miserable and depressed. I’m so sorry you feel this way, I remember these feelings so clearly. Those years were the hardest of my life. Please be assured that there is NOTHING wrong with YOU! These feelings are very normal for a mother, especially the first few years after giving birth. It does get better. Just hold on!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. This is a wonderfully written heart-wrenching post. Idealism dies as you grow older and even inspiration doesn’t visit you like it once did. But having said that, everyone is beautiful at each stage of their lives regardless of what they’re facing. Well, there are exceptions to the rule like despots, etc. And by beauty I don’t mean good. I mean being a sum of good and bad experience that keeps that inner clock ticking. So write, read, learn and act Chelsea. That’s the least we can do.

    Liked by 2 people

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