Recovery
There’s a certain feeling
When you close the door behind you.
Freedom that comes
Only with emotional safety.
I don’t know where
I don’t know how
Not ever sure why
I accepted an invitation to spend the rest of
“Our lives together”
Fast forward a week: red flags
Fast forward two weeks: " "
Fast forward a month
He’s a goner.
“You were willing to fight so hard for this
I couldn’t be that kind of guy.”
Huge, rolling, waving-in-the-wind Red Flag.
Everything crashing down in heaps.
Got the picture?
Sleepless nights
Abandoned days
ALL WE HAVE IS HINDSIGHT.
Reminding me painfully of the time before
And the time before that
And the time before that.
Cannot recall the steady reliable influence of anyone
Except the brutal rage of a tyrannical father,
cruel sabotage of the evil Stepmother,
And jealous antics of the Stepsister.
Cinderella had it good!
How do I deal
With the pain, the shame, the confusion, and guilt
Failure, embarrassment, mutilation, and horror
Of yet another
Failed Relationship?
Pain so intense
it wakes me at
3:00 AM ruminating miserably
Good enough excuse for morning.
I am as emotionally crippled as
The Tin Man without oil.
Four baths a day
Ice cream by the tub
Mind if I smoke?
Just tell me where I blew it.
Never will I ever share another man’s bed
Until I’ve seen his spots
The mask has slipped,
And he stands
As emotionally naked
As I require of myself.
Intimacy that brings you to your knees
(on knees that no longer bend)
I never believed in recovery.
Until I closed that door
Locked it
And barricaded it.
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