This is an older post. It was inspired in part by a coworker. She’s a user(0f people) and presents different sides of her personality depending on who she is dealing with. She isn’t the brightest bulb, but she sure has the social skills that she uses to manipulate others. I’m wondering if it is time to part ways with my employer and people like her. I am now actively trying to problem solve some of my issues at work, but you can’t make people listen if they don’t wish to. I hate hate hate the thought of quitting and leaving. One thing I have managed to overcome in my depression if the urge to run away when the going gets tough.
You leave a trail of glitter wherever you go. I’m told I should delight in the sparkle you leave behind, as if I can capture some of the radiance for myself. Your friends tell me to pay attention, that if I am lucky I will find a speck of precious metal or gemstone in the glitter. They tell me about silver, gold, ruby and emerald.
I don’t see what they see. I find the glitter cheap and abrasive. Instead of delighting in your marvelous sparkle, why don’t you simply stop with the glitter, so I won’t be left to clean up your mess.
Yesterday I wrote about the empty spaces of time in my life, times in which I sometimes feel uncomfortable in because I haven’t always a concrete plan of what I should be doing.
I was thinking since I wrote this post that during these empty spaces I am alone with myself…giving me more time to ruminate about how I could better myself. Maybe these empty spaces of time give me trouble because I still have yet to be at peace with who I really am. But I know there are ways I can improve…why don’t I just go to what I need to do…instead of hating myself for not doing it(I’m talking about exercise here).
Next year at this time I’ll be making dinner for 3 instead of 4, since my daughter will be away at college. I often think about how life will be different. Life will be a little bit less busy. What will I do with those empty spaces next year? And what will my husband and I do after the youngest one graduates? There I go worrying about years into the future when I just should figure out a plan for today.
What do I do to make myself comfortable with me? Perhaps that sounds strange. Thanks for reading my semi-coherent ramblings.
Today’s writing prompt is a bit hard for me to interpret as it is written. I’ll concentrate more on this part..”the sense of touch brings back memories for us”.
My mother wasn’t big on physical affection, almost to the point that it was something she was proud of. I think my dad was a bit more physically affectionate with us as kids, but looking back, I think since we received so little physical affection from her, getting it from my dad seemed odd. My dad dropped some sort of innuendo once during an argument with her about how cold she’d been in that regard, even with us as babies, I was never quite sure how to process it.
For me, holding a baby and kissing their heads is one of the greatest joys of life. I still try to give my kids a hug everyday…even though they think they are to big for it. I love to run my hands down my husband’s arms and feel how his arms and hands are different than mine, somehow the familiarity of this is comforting.
I have mixed feelings about touch outside of my inner circle. How I respond to touch seems something that comes from somewhere deep within myself. Many years ago, I ran into a friend. I was busy that day. She wanted to talk, and she touched my arm in the process. I think I sort of recoiled. What she wanted to talk about was her sister with cancer. What a jerk I was to have acted like that. I’ve gotten better since that day. Sometimes with hugs I get confused…does a hug transform our relationship into something it wasn’t before? Do you have to accept a hug if its offered. If someone at work comes up behind you and starts rubbing your back to you have to act thankful, disguising the awkwardness you might feel?
I’m a nurse. Sometimes a comforting touch can be a part of our toolbox in helping someone settle who is confused or scared. I’ve felt a lot of connection holding the hand of someone who is confused, just sitting there with them until their anxiety level decreased.
Well, yet another post in which I expose my odd self.
I don’t remember what exactly we had planned for the day. We drove north, and stopped where the woods and the river met. We walked around in the woods enjoying the soft breeze.
Soon we stopped. We hold each other, I am standing against a tree. We kiss. I feel shy, knowing where this could be going.
In the dappled sunlight, I am not ready for you to see my flaws. But so many years later, I realize you saw my flaws and didn’t care. It is only me that can’t stop thinking about my imperfections.
We’ve been out, just the two of us. A lovely time. We come home, say good night to the kids.
We go to the bedroom, and close the door. Afterward, I lay there, knowing sleep will come soon. But then I hear you get up, get dressed again.
Usually is me whose mind becomes restless when it is time for sleep. Tonight it is you.
I want you stay in bed with me. I want to cling to you, to caress your familiar places as we drift off to sleep. To run my hand down your arms feeling your muscles and veins under my fingertips, stopping briefly over that little bit of scar tissue. I want to feel your rough strong hands in mine. I want to feel your warmth and to inhale your scent.
But somehow my brain can’t push the word “Stay” past my lips.