ayiti nation of warriors. they’re out there still tonight. i see them when i wander and wake up in salt. i read the news reports watch the videos look at the photographs. compelled to look know that they are out there. memory is important. far away, i need to witness. we need to know what’s going on what other people are going through. it’s so painful. i’ve written pages it’s not my pain but it’s in my body. i’m too open these days. can barely think about it. the bodies look like mine my family’s my countrywo/men. the hairstyles postures stance too familiar. i’m safe, in reflection. i also wait another looming event. the next time won’t be a reflection will be my image. already parallel (universe) being drawn. some of the images trigger like the glint of fierce sun off machetes held by youth. fear pushes my tears. i see you –> me –> us.

and i understand.

***

still working through a different pain, needing to put my burden down. slowly working through, slowly eliminating. i’m also moving, and symbolically releasing with each item that doesn’t get to come with me. the new space is healing. i couldn’t voice that yesterday, but it’s healing, wholesome. an outdoors a bathtub. this is important, more important than other things that should be.

i’ve been re-accessing my community. finding the sanctuary i had been looking for elsewhere. mis-guided, but things that were hazy were made clearer. especially in response to destructive patterns.

i’m looking forward to a new part of the city, a new chance to walk different streets. i’d unplugged from the city for the last little while - retreated. time to re-treat under those sodium lamps. listen to the music on the concrete. and when it warms up a little more, get some sunshine.

i’ve been asking for a lot. needing a lot. not getting a lot. trying to get past that to the state where i can give a lot, again. but i can’t do it alone. i also can’t allow myself to be drained. the little i have left right now has to go where it’s needed.

i’m ok with failing, as long as i’ve tried.

i have to be honest, right? i did make a commitment to put it all out there, not for catharsis nor attention, but to overcome my own crippling fear of judgment and rejection. everything - absolutely everything - is bearable as long as i’m not rejected. i need to get over that. tonight for some reason it’s okay i don’t know maybe the shame tomorrow will make me take this post down.

2009 was tough. really tough. there were many beautiful and good moments, more than enough, and overall, i’m progressing achieving accomplishing. i can see and rationalise that.

there was also a lot of rocking the lowest self-esteem i’ve had in my life. dealing with depression that only seemed to get worse the more i ignored it. breaking down so often, clinging onto others, my nailmarks leaving deep scratch wounds in their skin as i fought to hold on. the ones who gave me more than i had any right to take from them. wake-up call recently. i’m still going under but i seem hellbent on not doing it solo. bent on bringing others into my own personal hell. i love them too much to hurt them like that more than i’ve hurt them so far.

i had this arrogant belief in my ability to survive, a conviction that i was the lone warrior, i didn’t need help. and then i thought that i did, and i asked for it, wanted to depend on it, relied on someone else to clear my passageways, breathe for me.

i’ve never felt this weak and helpless before. today and yesterday i felt it in my body each step painful but i’m so numb i can barely make the effort to connect mental and physical. i now understand why people cut i don’t do it to the physical but everyday i drag that blade deeper through the mental without allowing it to scar. and then i bleed over someone else.

i hurt. so i hurt others. then i watch them hurt and i hurt even more at seeing them hurt. i have to stop but i can’t but i will. now. i’m disconnecting going through the motions today tomorrow day after. until after the middle of next week. and then nothingness. disconnect to re-treat re-form.

i’m weary of the anger. 30 wasn’t supposed to be like this. 2010 wasn’t supposed to begin this way. too much to repair too much to re-pare. too much pain to reap here. i can barely type this.

i would promise i won’t hurt [you] anymore but i can’t commit to an expectation. i can barely commit to posting this.