The nights I spend dreaming
What of, you will never know
Nor are you allowed to ask.
No questions are allowed
Because I don't have an answer
The door will be open just a bit
there is a light
such a tiny light
Footsteps echo
down a winding staircase
Not a word is spoken
my mind is whirling
faces flashing past
round and round they go
The warmth of a lover's embrace
or a kiss of loneliness
twisted around desire
Of words spoken
that fell on deaf ears
To a blind mind
hearing a would not have helped
drowning in their voices
Grasping at straws
holding onto thorns
A hand reaches down
pulling up into the light
of baby blue eyes
and a heavenly smile
This paper will free me
but only for a moment
An unfinished chapter
that won't grant me rest
Waiting for the sound
that will surely free me
Speak
straight to my heart
while looking into my eyes
Remove the chains of infatuation
replaced by chains of roses
and temptations kiss
that won't be kept at bay
The icy fingers of regret
pull at long flowing hair
This is right
to the lonely mind
and a tortured heart that has been left alone
far too long
The darkness comes to play
wreaking havoc
torturing
blinding
deafening
All lies of desire
all lies of false beliefs
And now I am surrounded by
your honest words
loving embrace
eyes that can see into a soul
Call it love
call it forever
But remember
forever is a long time
forever is just a dream away
April 1998
Revised March 2002
Olivia J. Stuart
Thursday, December 22, 2016
Wednesday, December 21, 2016
A December Morning
Christmas is upon us, but it hasn't made me feel excited. One radio station that plays Christmas music, though not the ones I have come to love. I am certain should I hear the favorites it would not matter.
I am in a blah place. Stressors from my home state plague me. Daily I wait for phone calls and updates. I struggle with placing blame upon myself and anger toward one other in particular. I feel upbeat and straight to hopeless. I am hanging in, but only on the margins. I sent out only one Christmas card one week before Christmas. My Christmas presents for home also went out that same day.
The day my husband began cleaning part of the house, I knew I was failing. Any façade of normalcy was not holding up. I cannot bring myself to accomplish more than one task a day. My two I am exhausted and ready to lie on the couch and watch cartoons with my daughter.
Snow surrounding us, and falling continually makes me feel trapped. Even when the beautiful sunlight fills the sky and brightens the world, I feel the cold.
I am sad. So very sad. I don't know how to express this to my loving and kind husband. He certainly does not deserve a wife that is sad. I desperately try to keep up. To get kids ready for the day. One on the bus with water and snack in hand. I struggle to deal with a hyper child left in my care all day long every day. Then it is time to make supper and clean up the mess and begin bedtime routines. But most nights I do not fall into bed exhausted, but rather defeated.
I am fairly certain that my husband does not understand how debilitating sadness can be. How it can control your life and make you eat all day long. How it can make you stare at the walls and barely function.
With him going to work later and coming home earlier, he has been around a lot more. He is seeing more of what isn't being done. Hearing more of the excuses. I think he sees laziness. I think he is slightly disappointed in me. I know I am disappointed in me.
Soon we will know if he gets to visit his family for eleven days. I will remain behind with our kids. My oldest will be adjusting to whatever new reality he has. I will be alone. I can feel the cold and the empty house. I can imagine the smaller meals barely put together. The kids laughing and playing and me retreating from it all.
This new place we are in is quite intimidating at the moment. I have never been one to travel far from home unless necessary. By far I mean more than twenty minutes. I don't know why this is. I know there are places I will want to go, but out of lack of desire to accomplish such a feat, I will remain home. Eleven days is a long time to a lonely heart. Eleven days is an eternity to one trapped in a bubble of sadness.
Make no mistake, though I am sad for his departure, I get it. He doesn't get to see his family as often as I do. I want him to go. I want to share him with his mother. But I want to keep him too.
As this morning progressed, I could only hear him nagging. Or was it lecturing? Get WIC he says. Why? We don't use any of the stuff except bread and eggs. It is an effort I don't have in me to extend to the process. It will be off post, thus out of my comfort zone. Convenience. That is my motto. I did manage to make his two requested drinks and not burn the bacon today. I also managed to get our son on the bus during this time. I know my husband means well. But I also know that he doesn't fully understand and probably doesn't want to accept that I am sad.
Enough of my sad story.
Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas
December 21 2016
I am in a blah place. Stressors from my home state plague me. Daily I wait for phone calls and updates. I struggle with placing blame upon myself and anger toward one other in particular. I feel upbeat and straight to hopeless. I am hanging in, but only on the margins. I sent out only one Christmas card one week before Christmas. My Christmas presents for home also went out that same day.
The day my husband began cleaning part of the house, I knew I was failing. Any façade of normalcy was not holding up. I cannot bring myself to accomplish more than one task a day. My two I am exhausted and ready to lie on the couch and watch cartoons with my daughter.
Snow surrounding us, and falling continually makes me feel trapped. Even when the beautiful sunlight fills the sky and brightens the world, I feel the cold.
I am sad. So very sad. I don't know how to express this to my loving and kind husband. He certainly does not deserve a wife that is sad. I desperately try to keep up. To get kids ready for the day. One on the bus with water and snack in hand. I struggle to deal with a hyper child left in my care all day long every day. Then it is time to make supper and clean up the mess and begin bedtime routines. But most nights I do not fall into bed exhausted, but rather defeated.
I am fairly certain that my husband does not understand how debilitating sadness can be. How it can control your life and make you eat all day long. How it can make you stare at the walls and barely function.
With him going to work later and coming home earlier, he has been around a lot more. He is seeing more of what isn't being done. Hearing more of the excuses. I think he sees laziness. I think he is slightly disappointed in me. I know I am disappointed in me.
Soon we will know if he gets to visit his family for eleven days. I will remain behind with our kids. My oldest will be adjusting to whatever new reality he has. I will be alone. I can feel the cold and the empty house. I can imagine the smaller meals barely put together. The kids laughing and playing and me retreating from it all.
This new place we are in is quite intimidating at the moment. I have never been one to travel far from home unless necessary. By far I mean more than twenty minutes. I don't know why this is. I know there are places I will want to go, but out of lack of desire to accomplish such a feat, I will remain home. Eleven days is a long time to a lonely heart. Eleven days is an eternity to one trapped in a bubble of sadness.
Make no mistake, though I am sad for his departure, I get it. He doesn't get to see his family as often as I do. I want him to go. I want to share him with his mother. But I want to keep him too.
As this morning progressed, I could only hear him nagging. Or was it lecturing? Get WIC he says. Why? We don't use any of the stuff except bread and eggs. It is an effort I don't have in me to extend to the process. It will be off post, thus out of my comfort zone. Convenience. That is my motto. I did manage to make his two requested drinks and not burn the bacon today. I also managed to get our son on the bus during this time. I know my husband means well. But I also know that he doesn't fully understand and probably doesn't want to accept that I am sad.
Enough of my sad story.
Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas
December 21 2016
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
Unexpected Betrayal
My oldest son who is still in an in between place has for the moment forsaken God. My heart breaks at this. Every time he would visit me he would tell me he is an atheist. He would become angry when I mentioned that going to church would be part of his visit. He made Sunday mornings difficult so that by the time I got to church I was shaking from anger. I managed to half force him, half encourage him to volunteer at my church twice. Once I was present and he had a blast. The second time he went alone and argued right up until the moment I introduced him to the lady in charge. Again he had a blast. I was trying desperately to show him church was fun. That he still loved God. I was praying he would want to get back into church.
When he was close to twelve and first moved to his Dad's house, he loved the church they attended. He was very involved in the youth group. He had a good relationship with the pastor. He wanted to be a missionary. But when his Dad moved him farther away from the church, and he could not attend, he lost his zeal. Then the way his father was yelling at him made him doubt God.
The entire time I am telling him to pray. To believe in God's plan for our lives. To pray for understanding of God's plan. To know that all things go according to God's will. I pray for him, I pray with him. I read the Bible to him and the younger two kids. I took him to church when I could. It did not change his mindset.
Fast forward to now. He is in an in between place. A place where neither I nor his Dad are in control at this very moment. I am trying to stand united, to extend an olive branch to his father. He continues to state that he will win. He always wins. This alone angers me, because it is not a game. This is our son. We need to be united, but he refuses to acknowledge me. Despite custody papers that state my right to be involved in this hospital stay, he refuses to involve me. I have gone around him. I have spent hours calling the people in charge, looking for any loophole that can grant me access. I am still only on the edge, but moving closer to being fully acknowledged. I get frustrated at the system. I see how it fails so many, and know that it is going to fail my son, yet I push forward.
Olive branch or not I finally found my edge and I jumped up to it and pushed. This will raise his father's anger once the knowledge of my signature on one piece of paper did. Ha. But still it is not about me winning. It is about fighting for my son, and having to go around to find legal loopholes, well so be it.
I find out from my son that this pastor from his Dad's church went to visit him. At first I am elated. Until I hear he carried no Bible. He offered no prayer, or advice, but he did offer a great guilt trip of how his actions were only hurting his father and that he was completely wrong. And then he went and told my son's dad all about the entire conversation. Really?
Knowing that my son had previously talked to my Dad, I called him. Oh my goodness, this is a reality! My Baptist father who may not attend church regularly was deeply disturbed by this turn of events.
To think that this man is leading a church, it makes you wonder if anything told to him by anyone in that church is held in confidence.
Many years ago, when my son lived with me, he was having some difficulty with life. I reached out to my then Pastor who spent a couple of afternoons with him. To this day I have no idea what they talked about. All my Pastor told me was that he was a good boy. This is how it should be.
At this little visit my son relayed the events that led up to his decision. Instead of being prayed with and for and maybe a little scripture he was made to feel guilty and wrong. His feeling discounted and those of his father more important. At this very moment I am barely restraining myself from contacting this pastor and laying into him. I know I cannot do this right now. I know it may never be the right time, but I will never recommend people to this church. I really thought this guy was great. I had met him a few times. I saw how excited he was for my son to be included in church events even when he was at my house. He made it happen.
I listened to my son rant about how believing in God was crazy. How I had been asking him to pray, to keep the faith. He was betrayed. And I am so confused why this pastor would offer no solace, no scripture, no prayer and then betray his confidence.
Mathew 7:15 Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.
2 Corinthians 11:13 For such are false apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into the apostles of Christ.
December 21, 2016
When he was close to twelve and first moved to his Dad's house, he loved the church they attended. He was very involved in the youth group. He had a good relationship with the pastor. He wanted to be a missionary. But when his Dad moved him farther away from the church, and he could not attend, he lost his zeal. Then the way his father was yelling at him made him doubt God.
The entire time I am telling him to pray. To believe in God's plan for our lives. To pray for understanding of God's plan. To know that all things go according to God's will. I pray for him, I pray with him. I read the Bible to him and the younger two kids. I took him to church when I could. It did not change his mindset.
Fast forward to now. He is in an in between place. A place where neither I nor his Dad are in control at this very moment. I am trying to stand united, to extend an olive branch to his father. He continues to state that he will win. He always wins. This alone angers me, because it is not a game. This is our son. We need to be united, but he refuses to acknowledge me. Despite custody papers that state my right to be involved in this hospital stay, he refuses to involve me. I have gone around him. I have spent hours calling the people in charge, looking for any loophole that can grant me access. I am still only on the edge, but moving closer to being fully acknowledged. I get frustrated at the system. I see how it fails so many, and know that it is going to fail my son, yet I push forward.
Olive branch or not I finally found my edge and I jumped up to it and pushed. This will raise his father's anger once the knowledge of my signature on one piece of paper did. Ha. But still it is not about me winning. It is about fighting for my son, and having to go around to find legal loopholes, well so be it.
I find out from my son that this pastor from his Dad's church went to visit him. At first I am elated. Until I hear he carried no Bible. He offered no prayer, or advice, but he did offer a great guilt trip of how his actions were only hurting his father and that he was completely wrong. And then he went and told my son's dad all about the entire conversation. Really?
Knowing that my son had previously talked to my Dad, I called him. Oh my goodness, this is a reality! My Baptist father who may not attend church regularly was deeply disturbed by this turn of events.
To think that this man is leading a church, it makes you wonder if anything told to him by anyone in that church is held in confidence.
Many years ago, when my son lived with me, he was having some difficulty with life. I reached out to my then Pastor who spent a couple of afternoons with him. To this day I have no idea what they talked about. All my Pastor told me was that he was a good boy. This is how it should be.
At this little visit my son relayed the events that led up to his decision. Instead of being prayed with and for and maybe a little scripture he was made to feel guilty and wrong. His feeling discounted and those of his father more important. At this very moment I am barely restraining myself from contacting this pastor and laying into him. I know I cannot do this right now. I know it may never be the right time, but I will never recommend people to this church. I really thought this guy was great. I had met him a few times. I saw how excited he was for my son to be included in church events even when he was at my house. He made it happen.
I listened to my son rant about how believing in God was crazy. How I had been asking him to pray, to keep the faith. He was betrayed. And I am so confused why this pastor would offer no solace, no scripture, no prayer and then betray his confidence.
Mathew 7:15 Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.
2 Corinthians 11:13 For such are false apostles, deceitful workers, transforming themselves into the apostles of Christ.
December 21, 2016
Monday, December 12, 2016
Sanity's Dream
Effort
in everything
That day
possibly that night
Hunger and thirst
a heat wave settling over the land
Dust rises
covering everything
Like the memory
growing fainter with every breath
Burdens
come with each move
each step toward eternity
Forever
just a word
Maybe a time span
covering more than the dust
leaving behind residue
Gone
yet still here
Lost somewhere
on a road
or maybe a river
Forget
yet, how could you?
A burning kiss
or a searing touch
Seeking relief in the burning tar
the smell
an added relief
Why hurry?
hurry to where?
The next phase is like a yield sign
barely slowing down
speeding up as you pass
Praying for release
from the demons that hold you
clawing at your skin
driving you beyond sanity
and way beyond desperation
No fear
only pain
Pain is like life
a pinch of reality
keeping you on the move
Down the road
out of state
just a theory
Tearing away the ropes
ropes that are weak
Pulling and pulling
to freedom's doorstep
Falling in a heap
hearing the cries
cries of pain, loss, and hurt
It goes on
the list
it does
To forever's house
with the waves crashing nearby
Sanity
it is here
Twisted around
becoming an insider
Or is that insanity
words
like a slap in the face
or a broken nose
gushing blood
like a sweet red wine
Tasting of salt
what a release
Broken and bloody
where the mind wanders
and there is relief
Let it out
the pain
those thoughts
Intent on destruction
in the grip of the reaper
who takes you away
Away from here
or maybe from over there
or could it be from anywhere?
Olivia J Stuart
Summer 1998
in everything
That day
possibly that night
Hunger and thirst
a heat wave settling over the land
Dust rises
covering everything
Like the memory
growing fainter with every breath
Burdens
come with each move
each step toward eternity
Forever
just a word
Maybe a time span
covering more than the dust
leaving behind residue
Gone
yet still here
Lost somewhere
on a road
or maybe a river
Forget
yet, how could you?
A burning kiss
or a searing touch
Seeking relief in the burning tar
the smell
an added relief
Why hurry?
hurry to where?
The next phase is like a yield sign
barely slowing down
speeding up as you pass
Praying for release
from the demons that hold you
clawing at your skin
driving you beyond sanity
and way beyond desperation
No fear
only pain
Pain is like life
a pinch of reality
keeping you on the move
Down the road
out of state
just a theory
Tearing away the ropes
ropes that are weak
Pulling and pulling
to freedom's doorstep
Falling in a heap
hearing the cries
cries of pain, loss, and hurt
It goes on
the list
it does
To forever's house
with the waves crashing nearby
Sanity
it is here
Twisted around
becoming an insider
Or is that insanity
words
like a slap in the face
or a broken nose
gushing blood
like a sweet red wine
Tasting of salt
what a release
Broken and bloody
where the mind wanders
and there is relief
Let it out
the pain
those thoughts
Intent on destruction
in the grip of the reaper
who takes you away
Away from here
or maybe from over there
or could it be from anywhere?
Olivia J Stuart
Summer 1998
Looking Back
AS my son is in this new reality and his Dad and I are relegated to the sidelines, I have much time to look back on my many failures as his mother.
#1 that I was careless as a young twenty something who conceived a child into less than great circumstances. I am sure though that he was a gift from God to save me. But it was a long road that both my son and I had to walk, mostly alone.
I know now that I most likely had a pretty bad case of Post Partum Depression. I remember the moment I realized that this baby was coming. How I sat and thought this is it. Nothing will ever be the same from here.
My labor really wasn't bad. But I screamed at the pain. I cried for the epidurals. I really tried to quit pushing. He was born at 8:30a.m., after much frustration from the doctor that I had to literally be convinced to push. I remember the sun was shining through my window. I remember just before he slipped out of me, that they had given me an epidural. I only held him for a moment before they whisked him to the nursery.
My Second biggest regret is that I refused to even consider breast feeding him. I remember at my first visit when they were asking me how I felt, I told them I didn't want him. I was pretty sure my Dad would kill me when he found out. Obviously he didn't. But then as the pregnancy progressed I expressed my desire to keep him. Just to note that not once did any of the staff think that I should be monitored more or talked to more. I guess they just accepted that young unwed mothers often refuse to bond with the baby they carry within their womb. So not one did I ever consider breast feeding. I am not sure I could have anyway. I was so full of churning emotions and self loathing.
So as I am waking up from the stupor, I think closer to 11a.m. I am thinking to myself how I don't really want to wake up. I don't really want them to bring that baby back in here. But of course they do. Of course he is such a cutie. And he looks just like his Dad who swears that he could not belong to him.
I bring this baby back to my house. My mom driving us home in her white older Buick. She was in love with this little baby. I was confused by him. I was lost as what to do with him. My sister began to stay with me. She was in college and working. Somehow I came to expect her to be his caregiver. We fought a lot about how she was living with me, but not helping me with him. But really why should she? She was an Aunt. She was living her own life.
At any given moment I would load that baby up and take him to my Mom. They have a very special bond to this day.
He would cry and cry and cry. I would pick him up, put him down, glare at him, cry with him, hug him, pat his back, and put him down. I tried so hard to make him quit crying. But I didn't know how. He was mine, but somehow he wasn't exactly mine.
A deep depression set in. He was born late July. I was doing okay. Just trying to piece my life back together. Thanks be to my Dad for supplementing my income where the Welfare left off. But it became a reality that I had to go back to work. My son began his life in childcare at 5weeks old. It wouldn't be until he was nearly 11 that I could stay home with him.
I tried to put on a strong façade. I tried to make up for the fact that during this time his father was absent. He met his father for the first time just a few weeks shy of turning one. Yet, I am now facing the challenges of why I didn't care enough to fight for him. It is so much more complicated than that.
I ran into some of my old non kid friends that still smoked and partied some and since they were the only ones that were really reaching out to me, guess what road I started down. It was a very dark and lonely road. It was sometimes dangerous. It made my father deeply sad and my mother to tell everyone that I was shoving my son off on her, which by the way is mostly true. Unfortunately my parents were my enablers. I am deeply grateful for all that they did, but I couldn't pull myself up from the darkness. I was surrounded by darkness. I was alone. I hated myself and all that I had done that led me to that exact point in my life.
My 2003 I was at the end of a bad run of quitting jobs, self destruction through very heavy drinking, and bad relationships. I am here to tell you that during that time I was a bar fly and I was looking for love in all the wrong places. If someone asked me to dance, well they could by my future. It was a bad place to be. But all through this I loved my son. I wanted him to be happy. I spoiled him. But I was at a place where after work I would pick him up from daycare, take him to a fast food place get him something to eat, me nothing, and drive endlessly around our tiny town until it was time for him to go to bed.
I told my Dad and he said I was being silly. He was in a very stressful situation at work. He honestly didn't know how to deal with depression or the signs. I told my mother who had her own set of issues. She told me all about how bad things were for her. and to get over myself. So there I was sitting in my truck with a three year old boy and a bunch of broken dreams and dying slowly from the inside out.
I honestly don't know when I was able to get past that point, but I know I did. I ended up working at a Cell Phone place and finding a new meaning to my life. But it was a dark place too.
I feel the need to get this all out. To let others peak into my reality. To know that I am going to seek help for depression, because it still pulls me down. It still drives me to binge eat. To feel alone, to see darkness despite the sun. But there are many good days and a good husband helps me a lot.
Please let the Lord work on my son while he is in this middle ground.
B. Alwildia Garcia
December 10 2016
#1 that I was careless as a young twenty something who conceived a child into less than great circumstances. I am sure though that he was a gift from God to save me. But it was a long road that both my son and I had to walk, mostly alone.
I know now that I most likely had a pretty bad case of Post Partum Depression. I remember the moment I realized that this baby was coming. How I sat and thought this is it. Nothing will ever be the same from here.
My labor really wasn't bad. But I screamed at the pain. I cried for the epidurals. I really tried to quit pushing. He was born at 8:30a.m., after much frustration from the doctor that I had to literally be convinced to push. I remember the sun was shining through my window. I remember just before he slipped out of me, that they had given me an epidural. I only held him for a moment before they whisked him to the nursery.
My Second biggest regret is that I refused to even consider breast feeding him. I remember at my first visit when they were asking me how I felt, I told them I didn't want him. I was pretty sure my Dad would kill me when he found out. Obviously he didn't. But then as the pregnancy progressed I expressed my desire to keep him. Just to note that not once did any of the staff think that I should be monitored more or talked to more. I guess they just accepted that young unwed mothers often refuse to bond with the baby they carry within their womb. So not one did I ever consider breast feeding. I am not sure I could have anyway. I was so full of churning emotions and self loathing.
So as I am waking up from the stupor, I think closer to 11a.m. I am thinking to myself how I don't really want to wake up. I don't really want them to bring that baby back in here. But of course they do. Of course he is such a cutie. And he looks just like his Dad who swears that he could not belong to him.
I bring this baby back to my house. My mom driving us home in her white older Buick. She was in love with this little baby. I was confused by him. I was lost as what to do with him. My sister began to stay with me. She was in college and working. Somehow I came to expect her to be his caregiver. We fought a lot about how she was living with me, but not helping me with him. But really why should she? She was an Aunt. She was living her own life.
At any given moment I would load that baby up and take him to my Mom. They have a very special bond to this day.
He would cry and cry and cry. I would pick him up, put him down, glare at him, cry with him, hug him, pat his back, and put him down. I tried so hard to make him quit crying. But I didn't know how. He was mine, but somehow he wasn't exactly mine.
A deep depression set in. He was born late July. I was doing okay. Just trying to piece my life back together. Thanks be to my Dad for supplementing my income where the Welfare left off. But it became a reality that I had to go back to work. My son began his life in childcare at 5weeks old. It wouldn't be until he was nearly 11 that I could stay home with him.
I tried to put on a strong façade. I tried to make up for the fact that during this time his father was absent. He met his father for the first time just a few weeks shy of turning one. Yet, I am now facing the challenges of why I didn't care enough to fight for him. It is so much more complicated than that.
I ran into some of my old non kid friends that still smoked and partied some and since they were the only ones that were really reaching out to me, guess what road I started down. It was a very dark and lonely road. It was sometimes dangerous. It made my father deeply sad and my mother to tell everyone that I was shoving my son off on her, which by the way is mostly true. Unfortunately my parents were my enablers. I am deeply grateful for all that they did, but I couldn't pull myself up from the darkness. I was surrounded by darkness. I was alone. I hated myself and all that I had done that led me to that exact point in my life.
My 2003 I was at the end of a bad run of quitting jobs, self destruction through very heavy drinking, and bad relationships. I am here to tell you that during that time I was a bar fly and I was looking for love in all the wrong places. If someone asked me to dance, well they could by my future. It was a bad place to be. But all through this I loved my son. I wanted him to be happy. I spoiled him. But I was at a place where after work I would pick him up from daycare, take him to a fast food place get him something to eat, me nothing, and drive endlessly around our tiny town until it was time for him to go to bed.
I told my Dad and he said I was being silly. He was in a very stressful situation at work. He honestly didn't know how to deal with depression or the signs. I told my mother who had her own set of issues. She told me all about how bad things were for her. and to get over myself. So there I was sitting in my truck with a three year old boy and a bunch of broken dreams and dying slowly from the inside out.
I honestly don't know when I was able to get past that point, but I know I did. I ended up working at a Cell Phone place and finding a new meaning to my life. But it was a dark place too.
I feel the need to get this all out. To let others peak into my reality. To know that I am going to seek help for depression, because it still pulls me down. It still drives me to binge eat. To feel alone, to see darkness despite the sun. But there are many good days and a good husband helps me a lot.
Please let the Lord work on my son while he is in this middle ground.
B. Alwildia Garcia
December 10 2016
Sunday, December 11, 2016
Shards of Music
The pain
it never ends
really
it doesn't
The days are spent driving
The nights are spent in solitude
Why Cry?
Why you waste energy on such nonsense
Just listen to the radio
It will always be there for you
The music
It is so much like a book
And often similar to a photo album
A diary
that holds your deepest secrets and wipes away the tears, or brings about a smile
Each song is like a memory
Or a day long ago
And there is always now
There is the song for your first crush
ending in a kiss
the sweet taste of temptation
The songs for all the time spent at the ball park
the skating rink
or just hanging out with your friends
The song for the day your world changed
When freedom's road opened up for you
The day you got your driver's license
The nights you spent driving around
The dates that you had
The hours you spent with only the radio
When innocence was lost
There was a song
It echoed the feeling of hidden pleasure
Every little crush, there was a song
Even when they ended in broken hearts
Prom Night
And the song you will remember forever
Graduation
Freedom
The songs for a new beginning
The first summer
Then year
when we all change
But the music remains
There is always a song
One for every moment in time
written for an era
played for an eternity
What it means to each of us, does not matter to anyone else
We must all be satisfied with who we are
Then we shall have happiness at our feet
Listening to each song
To every word
Letting it carry you away
Into someone's arms
or a special place
Each verse
a face
a touch
a kiss
Maybe a scenic river valley
or a lonely road
we never know where we will end up
Life passes us by
Leaving a residue of change
That helps us to cling to each song
For to forget a song
would be like forgetting a part of us
Each song affects our lives in some way
And shapes our moods, relationships, and personalities
The roads we travel
The rivers we cross
The bridges that we burn
There will always be a song
One that seems to be written about our lives
Maturing
Becoming an adult
We always change
Just as the music changes
True love, some will find it and along comes a powerful song
One about undying love and watching another sleep
Secure in the fact that you are there
A touch, gentle yet commanding
A burning need, that only a song can truly express
The words are like a kiss, hungry for more, and speaking of angels and forever
A memory comes to life through each song
Some songs help define a new memory of things going on right now, and you will never forget them
Sleeping
dreaming
the song closes, and so will our eyes
And there behind close lids we see or feel that someone or something
The song takes us away
Embraces us in a secure feeling
The feeling of inner peace
Pain inflicted by one so close
And the song becomes a knife to the soul
Dreams shatter
and the song becomes a mirror mimicking the pain and torturing the soul
The music
It is our soul mate
our first and last true love
the one that will never let you down
What we strive to be is written and played out with each new line
Falling upon deaf or hungry ears
Opening or closing the eyes
Grabbing and shoving aside
Each beat is like our heart beat
Pounding away our lives
the world goes on with our without us
The music is never ending
Only a beginning for each new day
We dance away our lives with each gentle strain
Turing this way or that way
Note after note
Step after Step
The words echoing forever
What we loved in life will be engraved in our heads as we lie motionless
The words begin
Telling the story of our lives
sharing our hopes and dreams
The casket will close
The music will grow fainter
and on into the afterlife
The music will give us eternal life
For the songs we love now
Will always be there for the ones we left behind
We will always seek out a song
One for us
For life or death it matters not
Olivia J Stuart
Spring 1998
Updated March 2002
Revised December 11, 2016
it never ends
really
it doesn't
The days are spent driving
The nights are spent in solitude
Why Cry?
Why you waste energy on such nonsense
Just listen to the radio
It will always be there for you
The music
It is so much like a book
And often similar to a photo album
A diary
that holds your deepest secrets and wipes away the tears, or brings about a smile
Each song is like a memory
Or a day long ago
And there is always now
There is the song for your first crush
ending in a kiss
the sweet taste of temptation
The songs for all the time spent at the ball park
the skating rink
or just hanging out with your friends
The song for the day your world changed
When freedom's road opened up for you
The day you got your driver's license
The nights you spent driving around
The dates that you had
The hours you spent with only the radio
When innocence was lost
There was a song
It echoed the feeling of hidden pleasure
Every little crush, there was a song
Even when they ended in broken hearts
Prom Night
And the song you will remember forever
Graduation
Freedom
The songs for a new beginning
The first summer
Then year
when we all change
But the music remains
There is always a song
One for every moment in time
written for an era
played for an eternity
What it means to each of us, does not matter to anyone else
We must all be satisfied with who we are
Then we shall have happiness at our feet
Listening to each song
To every word
Letting it carry you away
Into someone's arms
or a special place
Each verse
a face
a touch
a kiss
Maybe a scenic river valley
or a lonely road
we never know where we will end up
Life passes us by
Leaving a residue of change
That helps us to cling to each song
For to forget a song
would be like forgetting a part of us
Each song affects our lives in some way
And shapes our moods, relationships, and personalities
The roads we travel
The rivers we cross
The bridges that we burn
There will always be a song
One that seems to be written about our lives
Maturing
Becoming an adult
We always change
Just as the music changes
True love, some will find it and along comes a powerful song
One about undying love and watching another sleep
Secure in the fact that you are there
A touch, gentle yet commanding
A burning need, that only a song can truly express
The words are like a kiss, hungry for more, and speaking of angels and forever
A memory comes to life through each song
Some songs help define a new memory of things going on right now, and you will never forget them
Sleeping
dreaming
the song closes, and so will our eyes
And there behind close lids we see or feel that someone or something
The song takes us away
Embraces us in a secure feeling
The feeling of inner peace
Pain inflicted by one so close
And the song becomes a knife to the soul
Dreams shatter
and the song becomes a mirror mimicking the pain and torturing the soul
The music
It is our soul mate
our first and last true love
the one that will never let you down
What we strive to be is written and played out with each new line
Falling upon deaf or hungry ears
Opening or closing the eyes
Grabbing and shoving aside
Each beat is like our heart beat
Pounding away our lives
the world goes on with our without us
The music is never ending
Only a beginning for each new day
We dance away our lives with each gentle strain
Turing this way or that way
Note after note
Step after Step
The words echoing forever
What we loved in life will be engraved in our heads as we lie motionless
The words begin
Telling the story of our lives
sharing our hopes and dreams
The casket will close
The music will grow fainter
and on into the afterlife
The music will give us eternal life
For the songs we love now
Will always be there for the ones we left behind
We will always seek out a song
One for us
For life or death it matters not
Olivia J Stuart
Spring 1998
Updated March 2002
Revised December 11, 2016
Rocking to and Fro
The dead of night, and he wakes
Crying from pain
from the need for comfort
Here I am Angel
Mommy has come to make it better
A dry diaper
A cup of water
Our fuzzy blanket
And your little stuffed ghost
Away we go to our rocking chair,
Our escape from reality
Cuddle against my breast
Relax in my arms
Close your eyes and drift away
Rocking to and fro
With the darkness all around
The silence is comforting to me
Imagine my Angel how many miles we have put on this chair
Rocking to and fro
Whether day or night
Together we rock
There have been many nights spent in this chair
Just the two of us surrounded by the darkness
Rocking to and fro
The first year rocked away
The next five months, you discovered the magic of this chair
Climbing into the chair
Rocking to and fro
Either playing or napping
You made it yours
This chair is our connection to each other
And to the magic of our dreams
This chair is our traveling machine
Becoming our escape
by just rocking to and fro in the dead of night together
Olivia J. Stuart
Winter 2001/2002
Dedicated to my oldest son M. A. B.
Crying from pain
from the need for comfort
Here I am Angel
Mommy has come to make it better
A dry diaper
A cup of water
Our fuzzy blanket
And your little stuffed ghost
Away we go to our rocking chair,
Our escape from reality
Cuddle against my breast
Relax in my arms
Close your eyes and drift away
Rocking to and fro
With the darkness all around
The silence is comforting to me
Imagine my Angel how many miles we have put on this chair
Rocking to and fro
Whether day or night
Together we rock
There have been many nights spent in this chair
Just the two of us surrounded by the darkness
Rocking to and fro
The first year rocked away
The next five months, you discovered the magic of this chair
Climbing into the chair
Rocking to and fro
Either playing or napping
You made it yours
This chair is our connection to each other
And to the magic of our dreams
This chair is our traveling machine
Becoming our escape
by just rocking to and fro in the dead of night together
Olivia J. Stuart
Winter 2001/2002
Dedicated to my oldest son M. A. B.
Saturday, December 10, 2016
I Am The One...
I am the one who made the decision to carry whatever it was we did not have to that next fateful step.
I am the one who knew the moment that baby was conceived.
Who denied it to herself.
Who tried so hard to push past the constant fatigue.
Margarita night was the night I knew for sure.
Always able to down those hefty margaritas until that one night when they did not stay down.
I cried. I worried. I stressed. I wanted to die.
I was afraid. Pride and Disappointment were foremost in my mind. Fear followed closely behind.
Newly divorced. Finally getting my life back in order after being cast aside by one not worthy.
The job is good, I kind of like the anonymity it gives me.
Disappearing into the cold to package frozen eggs, sausage and cheese.
Picking up from the ashes of dream laid to ruin by one who never cared.
Infatuated by the new older neighbor who happened to be a cop.
Mysterious and funny.
With plenty of alcohol to go around.
I wanted to fit in.
I wanted to be in control of my life for once.
I wanted to matter.
When I told him of what was to be he laughed at me.
He said it was not a possibility, he was so much older than me.
Oh but it was true.
I lost the job and the insurance.
Morning sickness so bad it brought me to the porcelain God everywhere I went. From the moment my feet hit the floor until finally collapsing in exhaustion, I was sick.
I could keep down smoothies, and later on craved salads.
I puked so much and in so many places I became with what brands of toilets were most commonly in public places. The cold and dirty floors beneath me giving me the penance I felt I deserved. I drank until after the New Year. Then I sat on the floor and prayed to God, If this is going to be how it is, then so be it. Just get me through.
With deep regret this Daddy's Girl told her father she was pregnant. I watched the emotions play across his face. Then the anger at me settled in. He had many fears about what this baby would turn out. But at that time in his life he was most worried about how this would ruin his reputation. Reputation really mattered to him during this time.
Thus I began a journey of very little support. Of bribery to not name my child a name of my choosing, but rather one of the family names. I was working at Mcdonald's, not pulling my own weight. Avoiding my bed at my father's house, choosing instead to sleep on the couch at my mother's house.
My father felt like this was his shame.
But what he never realized is that I was ashamed enough for all of us. That I actually hated myself so badly during this time. I tried so hard to loose this baby. I even at one point seriously considered adoption. I Knew in my heart I wasn't ready. I knew I was going to be doing this alone. That I was not mature enough. That I was damaged.
Damaged.
That is putting it lightly.
But then somewhere along the way after I had finally kicked the habit of smoking until I nearly coughed up a lung, I decided that I could change, I could try.
I was not a beautiful pregnant girl. Not by a long shot. I was an already too skinny girl carrying a huge belly. My butt got bigger, my belly was huge, my shoe size went up one size. I worked a Mcdonald's. But I did manage to get on Welfare in order to get a place of my own. I was trying to be the change. I was trying to be positive.
For a little while, I actually had a great relationship with my own mother. I can honestly say that at that time she was the only one who believed in me. The only one who got me through that dark time.
I carry a lot of battle scars, and this pregnancy is one of the biggest.
I didn't know God during this time. All I knew was that I was about to have a baby.
December 10, 2016
B. Alwildia Garcia
I am the one who knew the moment that baby was conceived.
Who denied it to herself.
Who tried so hard to push past the constant fatigue.
Margarita night was the night I knew for sure.
Always able to down those hefty margaritas until that one night when they did not stay down.
I cried. I worried. I stressed. I wanted to die.
I was afraid. Pride and Disappointment were foremost in my mind. Fear followed closely behind.
Newly divorced. Finally getting my life back in order after being cast aside by one not worthy.
The job is good, I kind of like the anonymity it gives me.
Disappearing into the cold to package frozen eggs, sausage and cheese.
Picking up from the ashes of dream laid to ruin by one who never cared.
Infatuated by the new older neighbor who happened to be a cop.
Mysterious and funny.
With plenty of alcohol to go around.
I wanted to fit in.
I wanted to be in control of my life for once.
I wanted to matter.
When I told him of what was to be he laughed at me.
He said it was not a possibility, he was so much older than me.
Oh but it was true.
I lost the job and the insurance.
Morning sickness so bad it brought me to the porcelain God everywhere I went. From the moment my feet hit the floor until finally collapsing in exhaustion, I was sick.
I could keep down smoothies, and later on craved salads.
I puked so much and in so many places I became with what brands of toilets were most commonly in public places. The cold and dirty floors beneath me giving me the penance I felt I deserved. I drank until after the New Year. Then I sat on the floor and prayed to God, If this is going to be how it is, then so be it. Just get me through.
With deep regret this Daddy's Girl told her father she was pregnant. I watched the emotions play across his face. Then the anger at me settled in. He had many fears about what this baby would turn out. But at that time in his life he was most worried about how this would ruin his reputation. Reputation really mattered to him during this time.
Thus I began a journey of very little support. Of bribery to not name my child a name of my choosing, but rather one of the family names. I was working at Mcdonald's, not pulling my own weight. Avoiding my bed at my father's house, choosing instead to sleep on the couch at my mother's house.
My father felt like this was his shame.
But what he never realized is that I was ashamed enough for all of us. That I actually hated myself so badly during this time. I tried so hard to loose this baby. I even at one point seriously considered adoption. I Knew in my heart I wasn't ready. I knew I was going to be doing this alone. That I was not mature enough. That I was damaged.
Damaged.
That is putting it lightly.
But then somewhere along the way after I had finally kicked the habit of smoking until I nearly coughed up a lung, I decided that I could change, I could try.
I was not a beautiful pregnant girl. Not by a long shot. I was an already too skinny girl carrying a huge belly. My butt got bigger, my belly was huge, my shoe size went up one size. I worked a Mcdonald's. But I did manage to get on Welfare in order to get a place of my own. I was trying to be the change. I was trying to be positive.
For a little while, I actually had a great relationship with my own mother. I can honestly say that at that time she was the only one who believed in me. The only one who got me through that dark time.
I carry a lot of battle scars, and this pregnancy is one of the biggest.
I didn't know God during this time. All I knew was that I was about to have a baby.
December 10, 2016
B. Alwildia Garcia
Who am I but just the Mother
My life has recently turned a corner that I never expected to round.
When a normal bedtime routine so far from Home of Record was disturbed by a phone call.
The other parent, whom I do not always agree with, is calling me.
"What? He is where? Why? How long? How did this happen?"
The smirk in his voice turning sour this nights earlier dinner. I am at once on alert, heart clenching in disbelief. All summer long the words my oldest poured forth to me becoming prominent in my mind. The advice my more experienced Father giving to shrug it off now becomes the question of "Was I wrong?"
I walk a normal balance of eggshells between a quiet normalcy and gut wrenching depression monster looming over me. Especially now. In a new place, a new house, a new climate. So far from my oldest, my comfort zone.
Things with my oldest were not always the best while I was living back home. He would come into the house like a thunder cloud of destruction. Almost hell bent on making our visit nothing but a shouting match. Determined to cut me as low as he could. I would rise up, knowing my emotional stability would crash on Monday after the weekend was over. I chose to continue to love him. I wanted so badly to hug him. But sometimes I couldn't see the sunny side of my son for the raging storm clouds surrounding him.
His age and our financial situation made it a hard decision to decide to ride it out. To many it was just another way of me throwing him to the wolves. But they did not have an insiders view of my house during those visits. Of non stop yelling and smaller kids crying and TVs blaring and kids singing and acquisitions of not loving and playing favorites and throwing one under the bus in order to save two.
I knew I would be moving and I tried to make every moment count. Even when resistance and anger met me every step of the way. I longed to take all three of my beautiful kids to church, but Sunday mornings dawned bright and he refused to budge. Refused to eat. Refused to go unless I yelled. Which I didn't want to do, but I did.
Sometime after moving away I managed to make him take his hatred to a new level. When he called me in a panic for the one hundredth time over something I was certain was untrue, I contacted the other parent. Mostly I have no idea why I did that. I have survived a summer of barely communication with the other. I hear my Son's words and see his father from a distance. There is no united parenting team between us. It is him against me. It has always been this way. My attempts at being neutral and kind are always met with disbelief and fake words. I guess you could say in some ways, I too live in fear. Isn't that why we removed the house we desperately wanted to sell from the market?
I am praying hard, but I have yet to actually pick up my Bible and open it. I read children's Bible stories nightly, but I doubt that is enough to counter the devil on this one. I have reached out to prayer warrior and others for advice.
I want to fight, but am met with much resistance because on paper it says I am just a mother, nothing more. The ball is not in my court and nothing short of a financial miracle and a miracle will change that at this point.
December 12 2016
B. Alwildia Garcia
When a normal bedtime routine so far from Home of Record was disturbed by a phone call.
The other parent, whom I do not always agree with, is calling me.
"What? He is where? Why? How long? How did this happen?"
The smirk in his voice turning sour this nights earlier dinner. I am at once on alert, heart clenching in disbelief. All summer long the words my oldest poured forth to me becoming prominent in my mind. The advice my more experienced Father giving to shrug it off now becomes the question of "Was I wrong?"
I walk a normal balance of eggshells between a quiet normalcy and gut wrenching depression monster looming over me. Especially now. In a new place, a new house, a new climate. So far from my oldest, my comfort zone.
Things with my oldest were not always the best while I was living back home. He would come into the house like a thunder cloud of destruction. Almost hell bent on making our visit nothing but a shouting match. Determined to cut me as low as he could. I would rise up, knowing my emotional stability would crash on Monday after the weekend was over. I chose to continue to love him. I wanted so badly to hug him. But sometimes I couldn't see the sunny side of my son for the raging storm clouds surrounding him.
His age and our financial situation made it a hard decision to decide to ride it out. To many it was just another way of me throwing him to the wolves. But they did not have an insiders view of my house during those visits. Of non stop yelling and smaller kids crying and TVs blaring and kids singing and acquisitions of not loving and playing favorites and throwing one under the bus in order to save two.
I knew I would be moving and I tried to make every moment count. Even when resistance and anger met me every step of the way. I longed to take all three of my beautiful kids to church, but Sunday mornings dawned bright and he refused to budge. Refused to eat. Refused to go unless I yelled. Which I didn't want to do, but I did.
Sometime after moving away I managed to make him take his hatred to a new level. When he called me in a panic for the one hundredth time over something I was certain was untrue, I contacted the other parent. Mostly I have no idea why I did that. I have survived a summer of barely communication with the other. I hear my Son's words and see his father from a distance. There is no united parenting team between us. It is him against me. It has always been this way. My attempts at being neutral and kind are always met with disbelief and fake words. I guess you could say in some ways, I too live in fear. Isn't that why we removed the house we desperately wanted to sell from the market?
I am praying hard, but I have yet to actually pick up my Bible and open it. I read children's Bible stories nightly, but I doubt that is enough to counter the devil on this one. I have reached out to prayer warrior and others for advice.
I want to fight, but am met with much resistance because on paper it says I am just a mother, nothing more. The ball is not in my court and nothing short of a financial miracle and a miracle will change that at this point.
December 12 2016
B. Alwildia Garcia
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