Briefly, I Felt Strong

With my heart on my sleeve.

Photo by Amelia Vu on Unsplash

I’m afraid. All the time. I show up, throw my heart out on a platter and serve it up. People take the bits and pieces, little nibbles really, and then decide. Am I palatable? Do I need more sugar? More spice?

I’m trying so hard to be everything nice.

Without losing myself.

Without letting the fear swallow my soul.

What am I afraid of?

Humans.

We’re vicious and beautiful and kind and loving creatures. Things to be feared and loved.

And so it is, that I happen to do both.

Photo by Laura Petrilli on Unsplash

Have you ever tried to make yourself invisible?

I learned on Wednesday that if given the chance to fight, flight, freeze, or fawn my body will choose freeze and then fawn and then flight and then fight.

In the face of an unhinged person who was very clearly trying to frighten me, I froze. My body said don’t move, shrink in, don’t react, become invisible.

Hold breath for as long as possible. Wait.

Glance at the locked door. Remember that no one can get in. Wait.

Don’t flinch when hands are slammed and maniacal laughter ensues. Wait.

Don’t make eye contact. Stare at the glass covering your heavy wooden desk. Wait.

Be so very quiet - maybe the tantrum will end and he will sit down again.

Don’t repeat what’s already been said. Say something new. Get up and open the door. Walk slowly. Keep talking calmly and carefully.

Let him out.

Adrenaline coursing.

Hands shake.

Just type it all out.

Write it all down, every detail.

Safe.

He’s gone.

The body doesn’t know that though. The body keeps bracing, keeps searching for more threats, stays on high alert for hours.

The mind is now replaying all the ways to escape should the need ever arise again.

Look into invisibility cloaks.

Photo by Egor Litvinov on Unsplash

I didn’t lose myself.

I was not palatable.

I had no sugar. I was all spice.

Especially after the second tantrum. I had no fear then. I was not powerless.

Briefly, I felt strong.

And then the adrenaline wore off.

Call for help - next time.

Will there be a next time?

One never knows.

People are unpredictable.

But I did not lose myself.

I’ll still show up. I’ll still serve my heart up. I don’t know how not to. I’m pretty sure it lives on my sleeve - maybe that’s what saved me this time.

Photo by S O C I A L . C U T on Unsplash

Ending on a poem from the prompt “Unwant it all” (please feel free to use it and if you do - share!):

I’m waiting for the words

to flow and dance right off my fingertips.

They seem to take forever now -

swimming along my synapses first,

seeking connection between

thought and release.

Isn’t it my job to feel?

A poet’s presence and primary purpose -

Feel everything and pass it on.

But now I just unwant it all.

Once a poet

Always a poet.

Chasing down words,

hoping to catch up

and be papered in kisses.

Sticky wordsmiths -

we clever poets

flinging all that we are

at fleshy walls covering

beating but sometimes broken

hearts.

And how do we keep going?

Unwanted at all -

Still

needing a poets home

all our own.

Where we can place word magnets

and feel good about mediocrity.

I’m supposed to feel everything.

We’re supposed to feel everything

and pass it on -

giving refuge to all

who seek to protect themselves

in poets homes

made of word filled ghosts.

Thanks for being here and reading my hodgepodge of a mind. Processing traumatic experiences out loud seems to be my way. If anyone has a lead on an invisibility cloak, please let me know, I’d appreciate it!

On a more positive note- I’ll be joining storytellers again over on Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! on March 21! Here’s the details and a link to buy tickets! Come support me and all the amazing storytellers! It’s a phenomenal line up!! (That is a lot of !! 🤣)

Stay safe out there. Sending love to all of you. 🩵

Xoxo - Mesa