You cut a cabbage, not carve an arm. Remember the cat lets you cradle him when you’re calm.
Remember the sound of birds outside – grow wings. Feel the spring come like promises to the wind, feel the wind, how its freedom caresses your face.
Focus, the oil is shimmering.
You’ve jumped in puddles bigger than this so listen, you’re making breakfast.
The thin edge of the knife covered in bits of vegetable.
The conversation starts as a mouse in your brain and sneaks in the folds like a dragon.
The summit of a nerve you cannot fix; you hold the onion as if an unborn baby, but don’t mourn, you’re going to be the happiest woman in the world.
You were young and less than you tried to be, hid from anything you couldn’t put a safety on. Got pepper spray from a friend who said you’d get stabbed with your own gun.
Is this why you drag your toes over the lake like a woman hung on the thickest rope? Do you know yourself? Are you a wound too deep to ever fill with life and do you remember how to grow? Do you believe, or does that can in your head still rattle rusted rocks?
Do you believe in killing nothing anymore?
Do you believe in killing nothing? In making breakfast? in kissing the dark clouds of your veins, or do you die unto the willows in the thick of spring?
Why are you silent?
What’s done is done. It would be futile to fight what is.
Years from now a priest will have you confess a gender and a name in the dark, that your sin can be absolved in the silence, and you can learn what it is to Be.
For now, your family talks in the next room, so keep an eye on the potatoes and remember to walk calm, to glide, to cough up that body inside of you. This will be a beautiful birth.
So anyways, we used to live up in “Goodnight’s” trailer park area, there was a cottage and we were paying $100 a month for rent for a cottage – it was a little small cottage and that. And an ex-state trooper lived across the street. Well, his daughter Ilene went out with my buddy, Richard. And we’d get stoned and everything else and we’d have kids from Trinity High coming and buy weed from us and that.
All of a sudden Richard turns around and goes, “Fucking couch sucks- I’m sick of this couch!” So, he cut the legs off so now the couch sits flat on the floor. So, when you sit there your knees are up into your throat almost!
These chicks come in—this, this little dog kept on hanging around the neighborhood, so we gave the dog the name Ralphie. He was a small little dog. Well, Ralphie would go down to the brick house at the end of the street It was a restaurant that’s still there- the Brickhouse. And the people would say, “Oh he’s a beautiful little dog.”
Well, Ralphie would go because he knew it was food time at lunch time and everybody would be feeding him. He’d come back with a little food on his face and walk into his little room (plump)- fall- he’s asleep for the night.
He gets up and hears a knock on the door. We’re all hung over. “Can Ralph come out and play??” It was the kids down the street. Ralph bolts out the door- he’s gone all day! He’d come back tired and everything else.
Well, these chicks on the weekend came to buy weed from us. All of a sudden there sitting there on the low couch. Everybody’s getting hammered. All of a sudden Richard goes with Ilene into his bedroom. He comes back out and Ralphie’s there running around everybody- everyone’s passing the bowl and that- (growling/playing noise). And this dog’s flipping this thing around in his mouth. And this one girl’s going, “Aww, come here Ralphie!” And Ralphie’s there licking her face.
All of a sudden I looks and I sees there’s a string that’s attached to something in his mouth and I go, “RALPH! What are you doing! Come here!” And the girl goes, “What is that?” and Ilene comes out from the bedroom and she goes, “Did the dog come out here with something?” All of a sudden the girl sees it’s a used tampon in Ralphie’s mouth and goes, (puke sounds) and she starts throwing up and she couldn’t get up from the couch because it’s so low to the ground. All of a sudden Ralph is over there cleaning up! And he’s licking what’s she’s throwing up. And she’s really throwing up! A whole line of chicks are grossed out and they’re all throwing up.
Us guys go, “Well I guess it’s time to go down to the Salty Dog…”
Here’s the thing, we all do the best we can with the tools we have, right? Well then. The best I’m doing right now is playing out my “What-if’s”. And to me that means: Take the fear-based scenarios my mind plays out, acknowledge them, and take it a step further to see what I would do if the thing I thought about really did happen.
Also keep in mind, I’m still learning to accept that 99% of the things we worry about never actually happen. That’s a lot of energy spent on pretty much nothing. But until I fully grasp that concept, walking through the “What-if’s” helps to make the sudden stories less attractive and real-reality more attractive so… Here we go!
For me “What-if” questions lead to mind movies which play out the fear and make it tough to stop the story or even realize that I’m stuck in my mind to begin with. It’s goes like this:
I’m doing something, and anything triggers me; a sound outside, a word I write, or my mind throws a random “What-if” my way.
It is at this point my mind takes over with something fear based and I shrink and succumb to the emotion that the imaginary story presents.
REALITY: I’m in bed trying to sleep and the wind catches the screen door.
What-if situation:The sudden fear feels like when I learned about the boogeyman. My mind tells me that something is definitely trying to get into the house!
WHAT IF someone’s trying to sneak in!
WHAT IF it’s a monster – no!— an FBI agent who knew you smoked pot in your college dorm room is coming to arrest you – NO! – a serial killer who murders women with blonde hair, green eyes, slightly aged skin and looks uncannily like you – you fit the description! Yes, that’s it, the murderer found out where I lived, hid on the porch behind my plants and is trying to stealthily sneak in but made a mistake and I heard it!
WHAT IF I fall asleep?
Mind Movie: While I sleep the murderer quietly breaks in and slinks toward the bedroom, hunched over as if he were the Grinch—The Grinch! Now the murderer looks more like the Grinch, and has a funny little dog, but the dog is the creepy kind of funny. The dog must have gotten into a scrap because his back left paw is dragging slightly, and the overgrown toenails make a soft scraping noise against the wood floor. The murderer, who now has grown tufts of green fur on his face, hovers over my bed with both hands grasping a deer knife held high over his head. As I shift to find a more comfortable spot, the moonlight looming in through the window flashes against the sharp edge of the blade. The murderer takes a deep breath in and —
Oh hey! Welcome back to reality. There are many things about what just happened that I’d like to address. Let’s list it, shall we?
Thing 1: While my mind was taking the driver’s seat and playing this story, I was not in reality. Anyone could have looked at me and seen that my mind was elsewhere. And also, if my mind is so concerned with me not getting hurt, I would still be in the present, because while I’m off in ‘la-la-scary-land’, I am vulnerable to anyone or anything that is in the present reality.
Thing 2: While my mind was playing the story, I was feeling the feeling I would feel as if I were actually in the story. Fun fact, I’m not in the story. In real life I’m lying in bed trying to sleep, shopping for groceries, or hunched over my notes trying to figure out what the heck I want to do in my career.
Thing 3: While I’m not present and essentially torturing myself, I’m using precious energy to create this mind movie, even more energy feeling the feelings not associated with actual reality, and what’s worse, leaving myself less energy to complete the goal at hand, which is to not be up all night and get sleep, focus, and get in and out of the store with my lungs intact, or figure out what the heck I want to do in my career.
It’s a vicious cycle. And if I chastise myself for doing this, I then feed into it. So, I do this thing called playing out the “What if’s”.
Essentially what this means is, I catch myself in a story, say at the part where the murderer was ready to plunge the knife, and I go, “Great question! What would I do if there was a murderer in the house?” Then I logically think through some options.
First, if it bothers me that the screen door slammed, I could make sure it’s closed. And if someone jumped out and stabbed me to death, I’d be dead. Well then. That sucks.
I could try and fight back and either lose or win.
I could call the cops on my cell phone.
At the end of the day, it’s really a 50/50 chance that I could win or lose the situation, and at that point, I’m sure my ‘fight or flight’ response would kick in and that poses so many more options, too many to think of.
My mind: This is getting boring, let’s see what there is to do in reality—oh look! My notebook with the goals I’m trying to achieve in my career! Or—Oh look! It’s now 2AM and I’m still not asleep or—Oh look! I’ve been at the store for over and hour and only have 3 items in my cart…
You see how that worked out? I can do that for ANY “What-if” my mind brings me.
WHAT IF I ask for the promotion and get told ‘no’?
Great question, mind! What would we do if that happened? Game plan!
Option 1: Have a conversation as to why not
Option 2: Get angry and throw a fit
Option 3: Find another position
Doing stuff like this give me a bigger sense of control and brings logic back into something that would otherwise be purely based on emotion.
There’s something to be said about songs and the outlet they provide for connection, but first- I’m at this fun little point in life where finding ways to maximize my time is no longer a hobby, it is essential to the fiber of my well-being.
Things like, winning the Olympic gold medal for three trips of groceries done in a single trip to avoid climbing four flights of stairs, because what am I? That’s right, a pack mule. Good for one trip, and stubborn enough to sit and let the rest of the groceries come to a slow bake in the back of my car.
Because of this need for… Efficiency? We’ll call it efficiency. Because of this need, I am currently typing this in the, “two-maybe-three finger- granny style” and can barely see the letters of the keyboard, because I am wearing wide finger pink plastic gloves with an exotic monstra print, filled with magic called ‘thirsty hands’ because my hands are, yes, thirsty, and mostly because I am, as stated before; efficient.
If the plastic bag sound of my hands is too much for your mind’s ear while reading this, I suggest you play some loud music.
Some friends were writing about what song was number one on the charts on the day of their twelfth birthday, and of course I was curious about that bridge and jumped right in. So, with ungloved hands, I did some searching and found that Toni Braxton’s, “Un-break my heart” was number one on my twelfth birthday.
I remember laying on the living room floor with my Discman and mic-cover headphones, the entire CD on blast and repeat. This was at a point in my life where I found the baritone notes within my voice and started developing ideas on what some real heart break could look like. Toni, I’ll be forever grateful.
I couldn’t let it stop there, no; I needed to know what the number one song was when I was born! This is what threw me for a loop.
Picture it: Me, just born, birthday suit, getting the cord cut, and Madonna had to go light the world on fire with, ‘like a virgin’. And of course, being one at the time, and also being literally touched for the very first time.
Since then, I’ve had the honor of going through some pretty glorious trauma and gaining some fantastic life lessons, which brings us to the person I am now.
Hi, I’m Heidi. I like a lot of things, it’s always been hard for me to pick just one because:
What if it doesn’t turn out great?What if my picking one path it leads me somewhere stupid when I could have taken a left somewhere and landed somewhere glorious?
Because of my lack of choice, I’ve decided to step outside of my comfort box band feel some real ‘un-comfort’ and do some serious growing.
Long story short, I am who I am, I don’t know what career that translates into, but this is the beginning of the journey in finding that out. I will be posting some funny stuff, some scary stuff, some triumphs, failures, poetry, and most importantly the lessons throughout it all.
If you’re down, I welcome you. Together, may we arrive somewhere awesome and trumpet our triumphs along the way!
Survive & Thrive 