Untitled poem.

I wrote this in 2006. It had been about 22 months since my biological father died of an overdose of oxycontin, 21 months since my paternal grandmother died of natural causes, 18 months since one of my oldest and dearest friends succumbed to AIDS-related illness and 17 and 1/2 months since my great-grandmother passed away. I had been through 3 moves. Floating homeless and sleeping in my car. And then finally landed in Austin, and was in my third residence in the city.  

I am self-absorbed.
I am an introvert.
Gotta stay on my tiptoes.
Wary of the eggshells...
always...
Wary of the eggshells.

I've had vacations.
Tropical paradise.
Floating in the water,
on hot, summer nights.

Flip. Switch. Back.

All the things I've left undone.
All the things I can't remember.
All the things I want to forget...
taking turn to ridicule.
My back against the brick at recess.
The stares.
The names.

They say to laugh it off...
(because it's oh so funny).
They tell you it will stop if you ignore...
(and it hurts so much, that for a time you believe with all your heart).

But, it never stops.

You grow older,
and you are still on the outside...
peekin' in.

Survival is-
juggling flaming torches
on a unicycle...
balanced on a tightrope
above a shark tank-
whistling Dixie.

I lost this blog in September, when my life became Occupied. It was by accident that I found it, but it puts to rest that occasional nagging in the back of mind.

 "Where the hell did I create that blog? What did I call it? What email address did I use? Why the fuck can't I remember such a simple damn thing?" 


If I didn't have so many genuine excuses, it would be a lot easier to get down on myself for such things.

At age 33, I finally have the diagnosis of Attention Defecit Hyperactivity Disorder (inattentive-type), and am being treated with medication. I find I am capable of accomplishing more than I ever expected. My critical mind no longer need be helium-floated up and bouncing from cloud to cloud, tethered to my body with curly, plastic ribbon. I have access to multiple recesses at once, from which to pull complex solutions and creative ideas.

This surpasses the norm of staying on task.

FOCUS DISTRACTS ME.

From pain that constantly haunts my body.

FOCUS DISTRACTS ME.

From anxiety that used to be paralyzing.

I may never be a social creature, but I can be a successful butterfly.