womanhood

a work in progress

Page 2 of 62

Try.

I’m feeling better.

Steadier.

Rested.

Calmer.

Trying eagerly, to seperate my thoughts from my existence.

To know that they’re thoughts.

Moving around.

Doing their thing.

Letting them move on.

Not attaching to them.

It’s not easy.

It’s baffling.

And tough to be aware.

To be present.

And watch where my mind takes me.

But I try.

Hanging in there.

The Large Picture

I’m learning now.

In business.

It’s so essential to see the “end goal”.

Not necessarily the end per say.

But the “how is life going to be when you make it”.

I think I didn’t have that before.

The clarity.

And therefore, I didn’t have the pathway.

Shit is getting clearer now.

And it’s mighty fine.

Feels good.

After a long, long time.

X

K

 

 

Round 2

We don’t usually have round 2 of an argument.

We usually have it sorted after round 1.

We need help sweetie.

We need help.

We aren’t fighters.

Yes, we used to be.

But it never worked for us.

The seperate beds, the harsh words, the uncaring.

It has never been who we are.

Let’s.

Get.

Help.

X

K

 

(May, 2018)

Charmer

There is a Kings of Leon song somewhere in history.

About a charmer.

And I think I became one very early on.

I used to be feisty.

I used to be radical and outspoken.

I never got voted for prefect in primary school.

I think the teachers decided I should be one anyways,

Because you know. Surnames.

Safe to say, I never won the popular vote.

Then.

I had this fight at high school, where I was arguing with a girl.

And she ripped it into me.

For always being “right”.

And no one had really fought me back till her.

No one had tried to put me in my so called place.

I was stunned.

I didn’t really know how to process or cope.

For some reason, I doubled down and thought she was right and I was wrong.

Who I was being was hurting people.

And so I learnt to win love.

To win votes.

To win affection.

Because I wanted to be the frickin belle of the ball.

And so I layered up.

Made up.

And I trained to win.

I’m so good at it now.

I can’t tell you who I really am.

Because it’s somewhere there.

Under all the layers.

Of the pleasing.

X

K

Recurring Dreams

I always have these dreams.

That I’m getting late.

And this time,

It was clearer.

I kept getting distracted by things along the way.

Stopping me from arriving.

My politeness, holding me back.

Putting me on the burner,

Slowly and steadily.

And I’m always ok to get slowly grilled,

So long as I’m polite.

I need.

To end.

The habit.

Volatile

You called me volatile.

But where did that come from?

I feel like I needed to.

Start to fix.

This control.

Thing.

Of.

Yours.

Because, it’s been going on so long.

Now I see it from outside of us.

I see you and me.

What it does to you.

And what it does to me.

You push.

I fold.

You push.

I fold.

And so it goes on.

I think the aftermath of that,

Is always going to be volatile.

 

(May, 2018)

Ok.

It’s ok

It’s ok to go slow.

It’s ok to show up late.

It’s ok to feel everything.

It’s ok to not know where it’s all going.

It’s ok to be late for after school pick-up.

It’s ok to send out deliveries a day late.

It’s ok to not be on top of your insta-game.

It’s ok to online shop when you shouldn’t.

It’s ok to feel jealous and not understand why.

It’s ok to eat that dairy milk when you wish it had been 80% dark instead.

It’s ok to pause.

It’s actually good.

So for all my A-types.

Just know, you have my blessings for every time you fuck shit up.

With love.

X

K

Steady Love

I’m glad you’re here.

I’m glad it’s you.

I’m glad I can dish it and you can take it.

I’m glad you know how to talk about your feelings and feel ok to be vulnerable with me.

It’s the safest place in the world my sweet.

I’m glad we’re both broken.

I’m glad you feel it and I do too.

I’m glad our love is the ordinary, mortgage and kids type of love.

Let me tell you, that’s the luckiest type of love in the world.

I’m glad you take flight and take risks.

Both of us bearing the burn.

But never living a life unfulfilled.

Stand by me.

And I’ll stand by you.

I’m glad.

You chose to be glad with me.

Because one day.

They’ll write about us.

One day.

We’ll make history.

We’ll change minds, as we do now.

You and I.

Always.

Lifetime after lifetime.

I can hear you chuckle.

Stuck with me.

Over and over.

You have my heart.

x

 

(April, 2018)

Dear Aru (May, 2018),

Oh my darling.

Sweet sweet boy.

You are growing up so very fast.

Becoming such an incredible human.

So persistent when you want something or when you need a question answered.

I admire that you in. Although I appear exasperated often.

You are cautious, it is in your core.

Perhaps it came from a past life, perhaps from your time in the womb, perhaps from your star sign.

Just know, it is ok to take a risk every now and then.

It is ok to fall and hurt.

Your friend is right by you, and he won’t let the cut be too deep.

Dearest Aru.

I may or may not choose to have another one.

Are you ok with that?

Some part of me dies with the thought that you might not have a sibling.

But do I really, truly, madly, deeply, want another?

I just don’t know.

I simply don’t know.

I want one for you.

That’s for sure.

But for me?

I don’t know.

Could I bear more sleepless nights?

More crying?

More whining?

Could I bear the emptiness of being a mum?

Yes.

For me, those early years often felt empty.

Empty of a cause.

Empty of an end point.

It’s who I am.

Seeking the next step.

Tick. Tick. You have arrived.

Motherhood isn’t like that.

It’s about being okay in the all day, every day.

There is no acclaim, no accolades.

It sucks, but there is some part of me that cares about that stuff.

We’ll see sweet pea.

We’ll see.

Maybe I’ll change.

Maybe I won’t.

I love you the same.

But learn from me.

A life lived for someone else, even if it is you,

Isn’t a life lived truly.

X

Pages

We were always on the same page.

You were always as deep.

Running alongside me.

Catching my thoughts from where they left off.

I accepted and understood your limitations.

But maybe I’ve found a new limitation.

One of feeling a little less.

A little less than me.

And now I know.

Why when a child dies,

It’s rare for a couple to stay together.

To stick it through.

Because.

You simply.

Feel.

Less.

X

K

 

(April,, 2018)

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