Bruised

I have been told by many recently that I should share what I am feeling. Not hold back. Playing the martyr. Adult. The one always in control. I'm afraid. Afraid that if I share, I will never survive. I will unleash this flood of tears that is suffocated so far down in my soul that I will not be able to stop. I will drown if I open up.

The truth is that I am bruised. Inside and out. My skin is black and blue. The staples go way deeper than my skin. They puncture my heart. Each metal piece cutting deeper and deeper until I am almost see-through. Non-existent.

I'm tired. Worn out. Beyond exhausted. Too much energy needed to pick up all the pieces. Again. Put everything back together. Function. Would you be surprised if this time I just can't. That I just want to give up. To be done.

Have I not lived long enough. Gone through it all. Put in my time. Why is thirty not considered a full life. I've given it all. I've lived. I'm tired. No more.

Whatever. That's it.

Waiting Room

Scheduled for early morning. Delayed due to a rough night. One blood transfusion and nine hours later, I get a call from my father. I fly out of work. Arrive in record timing. The elevator can't move fast enough. My heart is beating through my chest. I make it to ICU just in time. 

The anesthesiologist is instructing the transport team. I ask for a minute. As I fumble to get the gown and gloves on. I hold her swollen hand and lean over to kiss her cheek. Stroke her hair. She cannot hear me. But maybe somewhere deep inside she can feel me. 

They start wheeling her out and I ask to come with. I walk slowly behind the procession of nurses and doctors. Walk behind the bed in which she is confined. I try not to think of past and future processions. Nothing good can come of those thoughts. 

In the blink of an eye, we all stop short. The nurse informs me I can go no further. I am not welcome through the double doors. She tells me it's time to say goodbye. Everyone steps back. 

I lean over the woman who carried me for eight months. The woman who I call Ma. I kiss her cheek. And I tell her I will be right here. That she should be brave. And that I will see her when she comes out. She cannot hear one word. 

And then she is gone. 

And now I sit here. And wait. I wait for the unknown. 

I wait. 

Ma

Mother. Is an abstract concept. A given. Everyone has one. Or do they. Biological. Part of humanity. Society. Way of life. But is it. Some do not choose it. Others forced. Precious few are deserving.

My mother wanted me. She waited and waited. Let down one too many times. She suffered. Suffered for years. Much heartache. And then I appeared. Tiny but not really. A bundle of joy. Surrounded by difficulty. Constant suffering.

Ma. Mommy. Imma.

Where are you. Why does this keep happening to you. To us. I just don't understand. How are you able to withstand all this pain. All this sorrow. Ma. I wish you knew who I was. I wish you were my real mother. I wish you could make everything ok. Make me ok.

I can't look at you. So pathetic and sad. So small. How did we get here. How did this become our lives. How could I have thought we hit rock bottom so many years ago. And look at us now. Broken. Alone. Ma. Where are you. Open your eyes. Can you hear my voice. Blink.

Where is the justice. On your birthday. Is God mocking. Playing the evil puppeteer. We are helpless marionettes. Ma. Wake up. Breathe. Take those precious breathes. Fight. Don't leave me. I can't live without you. I need you more than I have ever realized. So what if you weren't perfect. You were still there. And maybe I wasn't always there. Still not. But I knew where to find you.

Your hand has always been warm. You always smiled when you saw me. I am your first. My voice is the one you always recognize. I am your original. Been there through thick and thin. Ma. Please. I'm sorry. Sorry for this life you've had. Sorry for all the pain. Sorry I haven't always been there. I'm sorry.

If it's your time. Then let go. It's ok. We will all understand. We just want you to be calm. At peace. Pain free.

Ma. I love you. Mommy. I need you. Imma. Forever your daughter.

What Are You Waiting For

Don't ask me for an update. If you really cared, you would just show up. I know that you have your own life. Wrapped up in your own world.

So far away. Four whole hours.

But seriously.

It is really hard for me to be understanding. Stay open-minded and positive. Your occasional message checking in. What are you waiting for.

A funeral.

Because it will happen one day. And then what. What will you feel then. Will you regret. All those times you did not bother to come. Those precious moments that you missed.

You can still catch that brief smile of recognition. It's not too late. But the clock is ticking. Decline is happening. And you are not here.

What are you waiting for.

Waiting for that phone call.

The phone call that will change all of our lives. Alter reality as we know it. And then you will show up. And be sad.

Mourning.

For this tremendous loss you feel. But never actually took advantage of the time that you did have. And did not bother to come and make a difference. You left it up to others.

Us.

Always our responsibility. Burden. Pain. Privilege. To care for. And hold. To feed. And cheer up. A lifetime revolved around. Affected.

In the end. We will have very little regret. Will feel pride and comfort. That we did all we could.

Almost.

That we were there.

And you will come and it will be too late. You will drop everything and finally show up. And it will not matter anymore. Because you missed out. Your loss.

And while it will be a loss for us. We will be consoled that our faces were recognized. Hands squeezed. Occasional name uttered.

We were always there.

6 Years.

6 Years.

72 Months.
2190 Days.
52560 Hours.
3153600 Minutes.

Time is a funny thing.
Slows down when you need it to pass.
Flies by when you want to catch the moment.
You can't change it.
Only relive it.

Time has a mind of its own.
Memories are confused.
Brain in a fog.
Thoughts rearranged.
Is any of it true.

Time never leaves.

Always in the background.

You can't escape it.
Only avoid suffocation.
Wait to forget.

This day comes every year. 

Less and less meaning. 

As time evaporates. 

Memories fade. 

Tomorrow is another day. 

#AllLivesMatter

#BlackLivesmatter

How about 

#AllLivesMatter

Why do we separate 

Each other

Ourselves

Paris

Orlando

Dallas

All sad events

Unnecessary

Could have been prevented

Appearance

Lifestyle

Should not be a factor

Changing your profile picture 

Sharing a hashtag 

Using social media 

Makes no difference 

Helps no one 

Is absolutely useless 

Did you ever think 

About Israel 

In constant state of attack 

When's the last time 

You changed your profile picture 

Because a Palestinian stabbed an Israeli 

Blame the cops 

Point out color 

Rant and rave 

Just remember that tiny country 

Smaller than rhode island 

Suffering daily 

At the hands of the devil 

Constantly on alert

Defending its life as a nation 

So just cut it out 

A waste of words 

Get off that stupid soapbox 

This is all I have to say

Written By My Sister

Hi everyone. Tonight I want to share my mother with you and the journey my family has been through throughout our life.

When I was four years old my mother’s kidney failed, yet she was successfully able to have a transplant from a three year old donor. This wasn’t all. She was also diagnosed with diabetes and a hearing impairment. My mother is a petite and fragile lady; she weighs roughly the same as the average 9 year old. I can barely count the many trips we took back and forth from the hospital. All I can say as life went on, so did my mother’s health as it slowly deteriorated more and more.

In 8th grade my mother completely lost her hearing, not just in one ear, but in both. She underwent surgery to insert cochlear implants. These are magnets inserted in the brain, connected to an outer piece, and without it she is completely deaf.

The summer going into highschool I was fortunate to have been able to attend sleep-away camp. This opportunity allowed me to feel like any ordinary 13 year old girl. As I was coming home, I was most looking forward to having my mother pick me from the bus. But as the pulled in to the parking lot, I saw my father sitting there instead, I automatically registered something was definitely wrong. My father then told me the news that would change my life forever, my mother’s health was spiraling out of control. My mother had a stroke leaving the left side of her body severely damaged. That summer was the beginning of a new reality. Instead of me spending my summer shopping and having fun with friends, I sat by mother’s side in the hospital and prayed for her recovery. Fortunately, we were able to bring my mother home a month later. Along with my mother’s presence came nurses and physical therapists who attended for my mother when we weren’t home.

Half way through 11th grade my mother developed a disease called fahr’s disease. For those unfamiliar with the disease symptoms include; deterioration of motor functions and speech, seizures, and involuntary movements, headaches, dementia, vision impairment, tiredness, slow or slurred speech, difficulty swallowing, and neuropsychiatric symptoms. These are all symptoms similar to Parkinson’s disease. All of this is caused by a buildup of calcium in the brain. Unfortunately, there is no cure for this.

Because of all these symptoms we are no longer capable of taking care of my mother in our own home. From that point on till today, my mother lives in a Jewish nursing home that I and my family have spent that past three years of our lives.

Just like most of us, I haven’t seen my mother in the past 9 months. YET FOR ME IT IS SO DIFFERENT. As of this year my mother is no longer able to walk, my mother is no longer able to speak, and my mother barely knows my own name.

Just imagine if YOU had to shower your own mother. Just imagine if YOU had to dress you own mother. And just imagine if YOU had to feed your own mother.

• A major lesson I have learnt from this all is that in life we are given our own personal situations. I knew I had no choice but to accept mine. 
• I learnt the real meaning of chessed. From all the volunteers who are still constantly helping me and my family. 
• I learnt that the phrase “I am bored”, should never be said. Because then Hashem will place something in your life so you won’t be bored. 
• Lastly, this lesson we can all work on. THE POWER OF SENSITIVITY! It is so easy for all of us to just talk without thinking. We all discuss topics without thinking who in the room my words might be targeting. 

Just a simple example;

Many times people talk about how they miss their mother’s homemade food.
But for me I just miss my mother’s presence.

Many people complain about doing chores to help their mother.
But I just wish my mother could ask me to do something for her.

I want to end off by saying we should all look around and recognize the people we have in our lives; for some people it’s their family, some friends, and some teachers, but regardless of who they are it’s what they are to us.

Polar

Polar opposites

Two sides of a coin

Day and night

Sun and moon

One young and the other old

The young one is quiet. Often introspective. Thoughts flood her mind at all times. She is mostly sad. Stuck in a past life. Forever reliving memories. She is 6 years old. Wants to be held. To be heard. To be listened to. She is artistic. Creative. A loyal friend. Would drop anything to be there for you.  

The old one is loud. A leader. A bitch. Take charge kind of gal. She has a hard shell. Built a fortress around her heart. No one would dare enter. Giving up is not option. She shows up. No matter what. Fights to lead a functional life. No one can think she is weak. She is 80. Propelled into adulthood. Forced to be mature. Make life decisions. She is a fighter. She will leave before you hurt her.

One is mean to the other

Telling her to snap out of it

Not to fall into the trap

Of life

Of love

The other is sad

She is tired

Begging the other to make things ok

To hold her hand

Waiting for a pain free moment

They are polar

But perhaps one day they could meet

Join forces

Unite

And form an alliance

Authenticity Is Overrated

She feels calm

Calmness to breathe 

To sleep 

She has clarity 

Clear minded 

Clear conscious 

She is free 

Freedom to express herself 

Be herself 

She has no fear 

Of others

Herself 

She is unique 

One of a kind 

Unlike anyone else 

She is legitimate 

Solid and whole 

Accepted and needed

She is genuine 

Inside and out

Transparent 

Wake Up

I'm still here
And I am tired
I need a break
From life
From everyone
But mostly from myself
A minute
Would be nice
Of calm
Freedom
From reality
Life
Just one second
Pain free
No thoughts
Sleep
Why does my body
Betray me
Just need a break
Not sure how much more
I can take

Cry for the Future

I am always so composed
Together
Hold my real emotions inside
The deep dark ones
That no one really knows about
Would scare them if they did
The ones that control me
That I think about day and night
No break
Control my every moment
Suffocate me
In silence
The cup is not full
Or Empty
There is no cup
It is missing

Today
I cried for the first time
In over a year
I cried tears
Real tears
Flinging around
Uncontrollable
My mother
Is in the hospital
Again
She will not open her eyes
Cannot hear me
Register I am in front of her
Holding her hand
Stroking her face
My tears are dripping on her
And she does not notice
My mother
Who I never visit
Never appreciate
May never wake up
And now it's too late
I may get my wish
And be an orphan

My father
Now he is another story
Does he even realize
He is suffocating me
Killing me slowly
Day after day
Year after year
Does he even notice me
He walks out of the room
As if I do not exist

I sit there
And I cry
I cry for the past
I cry for the present
And I cry for the future

an orphan with living parents

How do you write about something when you've been avoiding facing reality for so long. How do you open that wound that has been so neatly packed. Danced around for so long. What do you say when you don't think anyone is listening. And if they are, you know they can't handle what you have to say. What do you do when you are afraid of your own humanity. Your own reality. The power. The sadness. What do you do when the sadness takes over your life. Threatens to swallow you whole. Suctioned to another place. Six feet under. How do you verbalize those words. Capture those deep emotions. Where do you place that self awareness. How do you keep going.

I am an orphan with living parents. I am alone. I am surrounded by people but I am alone. My parents are living and breathing. But they are not here. They do not know me. They do not want me. They are selfish. They never really looked at me. Seen me for who I was. They used me. Abused me. And left me to rot. All I wanted was to be loved. To be welcomed. To be wrapped in their hearts and never let go. But they were distracted. Consumed. And I was left to fend for myself. I am left to pick up the pieces. Of my shattered soul.

You have abused your power. You were supposed to be there. Love me. Hold me. Guide me. You held the blueprints to the future. And instead you shunted my growth. You altered my reality. You forced me into roles where I did not belong. I took on everyone else's burden. But no one was there to protect me. You abandoned me. I am abandoned. And now all I feel is a void. An emptiness deep in my gut. That cannot be filled. You were supposed to be the parents. You were my example of how to navigate this complicated world. And you failed.

All I ever wanted was unconditional love. And support. And you couldn't even give me that. A basic need. My human right. Everything with you comes at a cost. A hefty price. Sanity is not an option. You don't care if I make it through the day. If I ever materialize to be something real. You have sucked me dry. Corrupted my thoughts. Controlled my mindset. Your voice echos in my brain. Saying nothing helpful. I lead my life in fear. Of others' knowing me. Of myself. Of never amounting to anything. Because you never believed in me. You didn't even give me a chance.

And now you have robbed me of my anger. The only defense mechanism left. There's no more hiding. Or avoidance. The truth has finally surfaced. Hit me in the face. You are toxic. You were never good for me. No matter how hard I try to find another conclusion. I can't. There is no choice. I can't survive with you in the way. You missed out on knowing me. Of being in my life. Of making a positive impact. I am an orphan by choice. Because although you are biologically my parents. You don't deserve the title.

I am an orphan with living parents. It's not something anyone wants to hear. It's not something I want to say. But I can hide from it no longer. I am an orphan with living parents.

another goodbye

I guess I am at a loss for words because there is so much to say and yet it is all so difficult to verbalize. How can I really explain where I am coming from. What I am feeling. What my goals are. Does it even matter.

I have been thinking about this since your first email in January. And I decided to just ignore your attempts and hoped you would get "the message" and stop. But I guess my silence was not definitive enough. Left an open door. Or maybe just a window. And it seems like it was my subconscious way of not having to do anything. Of never actually making a decision. I know I am not making any sense. (My specialty.)

What I guess I should tell you is that I do wish I could have you in my life. But after we stopped talking in June, it was very hard. Very painful. But I understood. The reasons we had then - made sense. They were for the best. And I moved forward. And now you've sorta opened the possibility again and I  have kept weighing all the options. And nothing has changed. Well I have changed. I have changed my life. Made smarter choices. Real choices. I finally see a future. And I am working toward it. And, (here I will say it), while I really care for you, about you, (and don't shoot me - but miss you), it's not what's best for me. I need to live in reality. And there's no way you can be part of that. So, yes there are great memories. An insane connection. But this will just end badly again. We CANNOT give each other what the other needs. And that is the bottom line. There is no casual friendship in our cards. We are not capable of it. It will get heavy and then painful. Look how painful it is now.

I don't know if I am making any sense. And I told myself I would write a concise email. But I know that I owe you some detail. I don't hate you. Anything but. I want only what's best for you. And I only have good thoughts when it comes to you. So don't think that this decision came lightly. And that it's not hard for me. But in the end of the day, I have to choose myself. My future. And not something that might make me happy now. Instant gratification.

So my request is that you delete everything and let me go. That you understand where I am coming from. And respect my decision. Our decision. I'm sorry if this is not what you want to hear. It's not what I wish I had to say. It was all real and I remember too. But it is the past. And has to stay there.

Please.

Goodbye.

Sarcasm is A bitch

Once upon a time there was a girl named Olive. She lived in her perfect little world where everything was amazing. She was surrounded by butterflies and unicorns. Money grew on trees. Her family and friends all adored her and appreciated all her many great qualities and talents. She was happy and healthy. Life was fabulous. She just emanated joy. She had a future. And lived every moment of her present.
The end.

passive nothing

Dear A

It’s very hard for me to write this letter. To verbalize what it is I am feeling. But I feel that if I don’t get it out, I might burst. I just don’t understand why you act different toward me. Do you even notice? Do you feel the difference? Do you even notice that you are avoiding me? That you are distant. Not around. Is it because of something I did? I just don’t get it. Don’t you want to have a relationship with me? Why shut me out? Do you feel happy? Coming home late and avoiding me? Making Shabbos plans and not even including me? When is the last time you called me? Texted me? Do you even notice? Do you know that sometimes I feel like an orphan? All alone. No parents to turn to. That if something happened to me, they wouldn’t even know. No relationship with any family. My siblings only call me when they need something. And when I call them, they don’t have much to say. Why have I always been there for you and for them and I can’t seem to get the same in return. What happened to the backgammon games? Eating supper together? Shabbos meals? The walks? The guitar lessons? We need each other. We have always been there for each other. To bounce ideas on. Our days. I don’t understand what happened? Are you mad at me? Do you feel happy in the way that things are? Because I don’t. I have made effort a few times and you have pushed me away. You are not approachable. You talk to everyone but me. And I am not ok with that. If there’s something you want to say, then say it. This passive behavior is not getting us anywhere. So here is me stepping out of myself. Reaching out to make a change. I hope you take this letter to heart and make a change.

You know where to find me.

Your daughter,

R

permanently agitated

Am I agitated because my head hurts
Or does my head hurt because I'm agitated
Questions I ask myself
Every single day
Does everything have to feel
Like it's falling apart
Collapsing around me
Curve balls being thrown
Directly at my face
Tripping me as I move
Is the anger real
Or is it chemical imbalance
Am I kidding myself
Not going to therapy
No antidepressants
Faking this positive life
Suffocated by my own thoughts
Unable to handle real emotion
All sadness masked
Expressed as anger
Bubbling at the surface
Internal discomfort
Emotional immobility
Can't a girl catch a break
No pain
For a few minutes
No aggravation
For one day
Support
Attention
Love
Wouldn't that be nice
To feel like you belong
And not constantly abandoned
Over and over again
When will the agitation end
In others
Myself
Tell me. When.

Nowhere. Fast.

I just have to say that I don't get it. What does god want from me. 

You think that you work hard. Get your life together. For the most part. And he just sends you a reminder. That he's in charge. 

Why do I not place blame in the correct place. Selfish. 

People are selfish. They think of themselves. And not others. Do not consider the consequences. The results. The effects. 

And yet. I still blame god. For being that puppeteer. Playing me like a marionette. 

Not letting me have a break. To live. In peace. 

But seriously. You know better. Answer me why. It's not ok. 

Don't look to me to make your life better. As a distraction. I am not a pawn in your game. I am a free agent. And I call the shots in my life. 

So take my advice. Make smarter choices. Don't be led by your temptations. They'll get you nowhere. Fast.