Here and Now

Transformed I hold on in my sleep clenched fists awakening with aching fingers empty hands... "It hurts, it hurts, it hurts,"  I think to myself drifting back into the same nightmare... footsteps heavy, looming shadows, and then the comforting sound of your voice calling my name "It hurts," I whisper as your gracefully opened palms receive my falling tears iridescent crystals spilling through your familiar, outstretched fingers "I will hold it for you,"  you repeat softly until my eyes begin to flutter open ...and for awhile this pain beautifully transformed Angela Minard 2017©

I didn't realize how long it has been since I have been here to write Change often seems to create a sense of suspended animation where the outer world stays the same  and yet you and everything you do is completely different  Sometimes I feel as if I'm observing from the outside... I wanted to heal and I think I am healing... I hope... I remember a winter about nine years ago when I barely came out of my bedroom It was dark on the inside  and I was too numb to cry too numb to smile  too numb to realize that I was dying Years of lying of hiding being raped  swallowing rage  had eventually caught up and taken a toll Self harm starving and hating myself had left me empty My husband asked me to see a therapist and I did not want to  but there was a small voice inside that I could still hear through the endless chatter I remember looking through the Blue Cross/Blue Shield book of mental health providers  and searching for...

Days of Glitter I cry... A lot... Every day... I love my new job It also makes my heart hurt I've been teaching yoga for awhile now,  but I avoid teaching children When I worked with children everyday,  I figured that I needed a break from kids When asked to sub kids classes,  I would adamantly refuse I never wanted to teach yoga to children,  and so when I started this job  teaching yoga in a psychiatric hospital,  it didn't cross my mind that I would be required to teach children I wanted to work with the adults  forgetting that they too were once children First I was a child I guess I try to erase that little girl... The youngest admit is five,  and then there are the dreaded teenagers!  I love them... I know them... their fears insecurity,  feelings of loss... I see the beauty that they have already lost sight of I try to remind them and I see flashes of a smile like the...

Returning On this day I give to you Love  as I know it from what I have learned along the way My heart  and what extends outward seeking  without knowing Somehow holding you always in a warm embrace On this day  searching ends We have returned... Angela Minard 2016© Artwork by Pier Toffoletti

Wanting The physical pain comes first before memory before wanting searing flame consuming all image imagined... When it hurts  inside now  wanting  you before you pain  without  want This wanting is a different ache throbbing from the same place Why is the womb filled with rot?  Do you ever wonder or simply believe  what you  are told?  "You smell  like the filth that you are." Could you please wrap your arms around me even with this stench? Shame is asking Shame is  telling Shame is Still  Here Wanting... Angela Minard 2016© Artwork from randiclark.com

There is nothing in life that is certain, but most of the time our days flow in a predictable pattern, and that routine is comforting.  Right now I feel as if I decided to climb into a rain barrel and allowed someone to push me from the edge of Niagara Falls.  I made the choice to quit a job I had been at for a long time, I brought a puppy into our home, a couple of the boys moved out, and then one moved back in and brought their cat, I'm starting a new job, and I just sprained my foot on my third day at said new job! We need to sell our house, which will be another big change, and none of this is routine. Even good changes can be frightening, and so I find myself slipping into eating disordered behaviors. Relapse is part of recovery, but I thought I was past relapsing. It is difficult not to be disappointed in myself, especially when I'm working in a recovery facility. Beating up on myself is not helpful, and actually gives the eating disorder more po...

Venus I can't speak anymore of truth of pain without my heart  lurching  into the hollow cave  of my throat I hear the reverberating echo of hate the bitter taste of poison  on my lips seething anger fills my belly You talk and talk and talk about nothing while we all  go  hungry Angela Minard 2016© Artwork by  annadittmann.tumblr.com