There are days when the whole world just seems to stop. You walk around and you’re trying to talk to people but it’s as if they’re frozen. Or, you’re really not there. Those are dark days for me. Days like those, for me, usually come on the heel of something major happening. In this case, two major emotional days: Mother’s Day and the day my best friend told me she was pregnant.

I know, reading the words sounds normal. Happy times. Times of joy and laughter. In my case, sometimes it is of self loathing, feelings of inadequacy, and a lot of questions.

Mother’s Day I was honored as a mother. For 14 years I have had to deal with the silent struggles of infertility. With the heart wrenching pain of multiple miscarriages. And for 14 years, I was never acknowledged as a mother by majority of the people who I needed to acknowledge me as one. Every year after celebrating my mom and my sisters my husband and I would head home where he rocked me to sleep as I cried out in utter despair. This year though, my Pastor made sure that was not the case. The church made sure that was not the case. And the emotions of remembering all of my angel babies and the fact that I cannot hold them killed me.

The following day my best friend told me she was pregnant. 12 weeks and 2 days. While I am incredibly happy for her my heart has been shattered into a million broken pieces and I can’t for the life of me stand.

Here’s the kicker. I sat lifeless on the floor of my room with a lighter in hand last night. You see, there are things in my past that haunt me. As a teenager I used self harm as a coping mechanism for the deep anguish of what happened. I wish I could tell you that it’s not something I think about, because God knows I do. How the flame melting my skin the way I want it to gives me the complete control of something in my life. How the pain of the fire is centralized in one place, taking away the pain in my heart.

I am not afraid to say that I have a weakness. And I hope that this encourages someone out there by showing my vulnerability. I stood last night on the precipice, the edge of a world I wanted to be in and a world I could create for myself. While the created world, a world dark and would swallow me up and drown me, in my mentality sounded great, it took every single ounce of will for me to choose the world I wanted to be in.

It is in this world that I get to celebrate Mother’s Day with people who understand. Who wished me a Happy Mother’s Day. Who hugged me and told me they loved me. Who grabbed my hand knowing the pain and was just there.

It is in this world that I get to celebrate the life that is growing in my best friend. The life, like me, she has wished for, longed for, wanted. The life that will blossom her into being an incredible aunty and friend to the super woman that she is.

It is in this world that I choose to fight in. And so, this poem was penned.


Flame

I can get through this
Magnetizing to the touch
The heat is a constant
A secret crutch

I can get through this
Mesmerizing flame
Dancing in darkness
Calling my name

I can get through this
But oh how it dances
Enticing me closer
What are the chances?

I can get through this
Feeling the heat
My hearts beating
I can’t give in to defeat

I can get through this
But the heat of metal
Wants to make contact
This is not accidental

I can get through this
As I twirl the device
Remembering the feeling
The flame does entice

I can get through this
The scar a reminder
Of darker days
I need to be kinder

I can get through this
Live another day
Extinguished the flame
Walking away

I got through this


 

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