Long Get over it Poems
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My family doesn't understand
How me and my brain work
Or all the instabilities in my head,
Feeling like I might break
At any point or another,
How I could cry at any moment,
How I am never relaxed at any time,
How I am so untrusting because
Of the trauma I've been dealt
That they don't even know about
I just want to take a day off
But I'm not allowed because
"We never get to see each other much"
And I can't just stay home even though
I've just been through another bad thing
But who cares, get over it, fight on
Well, that's easy to say but is such
Toxic thinking to put down another
And to just say to "get over it",
I'm sorry, but the pain is real
And I just want it to go away
So I want to take a sick day today
But I'm not allowed to take time
To recuperate and recollect myself,
No, I have to go out into public,
A place which never fails to
Make me feel oh-so uncomfortable
And never let me be able to relax
And I like how they say,
"You can relax anywhere as long as you try!"
But that is such utter fallacy for me,
The one who deals with so much anxiety,
I mean, who can blame me for wanting to be
Comfortable in my own house for a day?
To take a day for myself and feel better?
But of course, that isn't a thing I get
And they try to empathize with me,
But they only use themselves and don't
Even try to understand what I might feel
Compared to how they would,
Like they are just telling themselves
What to do, not even me anymore
Like I'm not the subject anymore,
But since when was I ever?
Not like I'm the one that matters,
"Oh, well your grades are good, move on"
But they put so much effort into
My siblings who don't do as great,
"You're doing that? That's great, that's fine"
But they push my siblings to do things,
Never a thought about me,
Or any reason to put any effort in me
Although, I guess I'm lucky since
I don't need their help, not that even
When they gave it to me it was any good
They talk me down now about not
Bottling up my emotions, but they were
The ones to first instill the idea in my head,
Never letting us be anything but
Completely and utterly happy, otherwise
You were told to stop and stamp it out
I'm sorry I'm not perfect,
But that's not what you raised me to be,
I guess in the end, family does not
Always know best
Written on March 20, 2021
would you ever walk into a hospital and make your presence known
by storming into rooms and looking the patients in the eye
"your pain isn't real" and "just fix it yourself"
falls out of your mouth and sits in the air like something unfathomable
of course you wouldn't
because their pain is evident and you can see it on their skin
so why is it so different when someone says "i'm depressed and i'm lost within"
how come that illness sparks something malice inside
as you spit out the words "you're fine”
when you sit there and can feel the words
"depression is not real" burning in your throat
when you have the nerve to utter the words "just get over it"
i will not sit there and i will not listen because you just don't know
you don't know how it feels
to wake up with a never ending storm cloud
to feel the thunder roll through your fingertips and rip through your very bones
because you don't know how it feels
to watch the tears make tracks down your face
and your bottom lip tremble like an earthquake
because you don't know how it feels
to place a cold piece of metal on your skin as your hisses of pain become the soundtrack of your nights
because you don't know how it feels
to feel the universe coursing through your veins
and the only means of escape is through your very own blood
because you don't know how it feels to watch your mother's eyes fill with
"where did i go wrong" and
"what could i have done better"
because you don't know how it feels when your brain slowly unwinds
and you fall into a seemingly endless spiral of pure insanity
because you don't know how it feels
at 2 am
when your face is caked in tears
and your wrists are caked in blood
because you don't know how it feels to become so lost within yourself
that ending it all seems better than fighting through it
my scars may not be visible to the naked eye
but the wounds are left fresh and bleeding in my mind
my hands will always be murderous
and my fingertips will always be tainted with blood
and i can see in your eyes that you don't understand
because if you did
if you could just understand an ounce of the torment that plagues me every night
then you would never have the nerve to sit there and say
that mental illness is not real
and that it will
"just go away"
-interminable
I was reading Lakoff's story
of what he learned at Berkeley
about international relations,
when I found my RightBrain offering further nuance;
not to deny what is here,
but to add what is also here,
but not explicitly stated,
about regenerative ecopolitical health and safety.
"The 'rational' approach to foreign policy was governed by a set of conceptual metaphors,
taken as simple common sense,
as metaphors [of and for regenerative v degenerative systemic processes] often are.
As a special case of An Institution
is a[n Organic-Holistic-Interdependent] Person,
there was A Nation is a[n Organic-Multiculturing] Person."
"In addition,
a common metaphor for rationality is used,
namely,
Rationality is the Maximization of Self [as organic subsystemic part of MultiReGenerative Other]-Interest (or 'utility' [as health-wealth fertility]),
which entails that it is 'irrational' [and unhealthy] to act against one's self-[intergenerational WinWin multicultural]interest[s].
These two metaphors are then combined to yield:
A [Healthy, Happy, Secure] Nation is a Rational [Organic TransReGenerational Polypathic] Actor[ess]."
"...we get as an entailment
the central thesis of the [organic] rational [trans-regenerational evolutionary] actor model
in international [interfamilial, intertribal, interspecies] relations:
Every [healthy] nation
acts [bicameral] rationally
to maximize its [health-wealth] military [Yang] strength [prosperity],
economic[-ecological hybrid] health [and happiness, with long-term defense of safety],
and political [cooperative polypathic] influence."
"Rationality,
on this conception,
is taken as
[discontinuous, deductive-only, reified, either-or] universal
and occurring at the [technology, tool, framing, modeling] level
of the
[organic, living,
matriarch nurturing,
ego/eco-loving,
bicamerally mature-evolving] state."
I feel so eviscerated.
Get over it.
Both-and;
not either-or.
You still got all your parts,
just more integratively co-aligned.
Yes, ma'am!
Who got out of bed on the wrong side today?
Don't even try it.
I'm going back to my "Political Mind" without you.
Doubtful.
And, if possible, dangerous.
You really aren't going to let me have the last word today are you?
I thought I was your last word,
your everything.
It never quite occurred to me, this silence in our house,
but now for more than two weeks, she’s been quieter than a mouse.
And in our fifteen years of marriage there has never been this bliss,
I thought we must be getting on - but there’s points I seem to miss.
It was at the dinner table when the nightly news was on,
her silence it was broken, she asked, ‘where our love had gone?’
I nearly choked upon me beer; has our love diminished?
I said “oh fair go Love, let’s wait until the news is finished”.
What did I say wrong? What sent her storming from the room?
Ah, she’ll get over it, once she gets back off her ‘broom’.
But here I am with collar on and hauled in with a lead,
to face a marriage councillor with a non-existent need.
The wife and I sat side by side to face this fellow in his chair,
and I was still confused about the reason why we’re there.
I copped the leading question; he asked me why we’d come along?
I shrugged me shoulders, shook me head, and said that nothings’ wrong.
But when he turned and faced my wife she had too much to say,
for she brought up every problem that we’d had along the way.
Our fifteen years of history was tormenting to a large degree,
she poured out a painful tirade with finger pointing all at me.
She went on and on about neglect, emptiness and un-met needs,
loneliness and so unloved, plus a host of selfish deeds.
She whined about my hurtful comments that are derogatory,
of socialising with me mates when I know that she needs me.
Talk about embarrassment! I didn’t know quite where to look,
the therapist would see my wife as nothing but a sook,
but he got up and walked around, and stood there face to face,
with my wife and in his arms - he gave her a tight embrace.
Then he kissed her with a passion and I’m sure I heard her moan.
Thank God I never left the pair of them in this room here alone,
because on the face of my dear wife, there’s this erotic daze,
at least she bloody shut up when she would have whined for days.
The therapist then turned to me and with a strong voice chose to speak,
“This is what your dear wife needs, at least three times a week”.
I mulled the situation over, then compromised the fellows wishing,
“Mondays and Wednesdays I’ll drop her off, but Fridays I go fishing”.
See this girl in the painting, this skinny girl
working on a puzzle at the bottom of the stairs.
With big rimmed glasses and her plain brown hair,
she’s an ordinary girl, with nothing seeming special.
Now see this girl. . . really SEE this girl.
At age 12, she’s just been fitted with new glasses -
They are black horn-rimmed - an utter disappointment
in the life of a young girl.
Some guys now call her four-eyes, and they don’t even notice
the beauty of her light green eyes and
long lush lashes behind those big-framed glasses.
But still she likes to fantasize, and in her dreams
she’s idolized by every boy she likes.
Always having wanted to be part of the “in” crowd,
she was a girl that struggled for popularity.
However, she’s been learning of another way to be!
Seeking out girls more like her, she hardly has to try
to fit in with her new friends. And now she’s much less shy.
With fun new friends, she is witty. She makes them laugh.
She’s even feeling pretty, wearing lipstick frosty pink.
She’s discovered she is smart in all her classes.
This girl who now is wearing black rimmed glasses!
She gets into the Glee Club, even sings on PBS!
With her athleticism, she also has success.
She makes Top Twelve in tryouts for cheerleading.
And though the student body does not vote her through,
she’ll soon get over it. She’s blossoming!
The glasses she will change for contact lenses,
and she does not know it yet,
but soon enough - a number of boyfriends she will get!
Also years of dance lessons and being in recitals
has boosted her self confidence.
Both her body and her spirit are transforming!
See the girl in the painting; a puzzle she assembles.
She does not know that one day
her mind will be on puzzles of a very different kind:
She will be assembling many words inside her mind,
and she will be partaking in an art called poetry.
I know all this because
the girl inside that painting - that ordinary girl -
is the one I used to be.
Based on the painting "Assembling the Pieces"
from Contemporary Figurative Artiste Stephanie Deshpande
for the Contemporary Free Rhyme Contest of Cyndi MacMillan
I hope you will see the painting at this link. When I saw the girl, I was
struck by how much it looked like me as a young girl: http://www.stephaniedeshpande.com/porfolio/
i saw you standing next to a wall
keen i've seen you
collected dark shy
wiry tall
so i picked you up
took you home
you just wanted someone to hold
that's what you told me
so i was onto you from the start
knew right away
you'd pull and pick me apart
i've got a cast iron around my heart
from days before i knew so well
guys like you
they made life hell
and tears of sorrow
in my eyes swell
and oh i know it's just as well
you'll get yours someday
this is getting old
outsold again and again old
just temporary
ordinary me
i can't make you hang around
i'll throw myself away
just look at me
my misery
a non-stop flow
since infancy
temporary
ordinary me
one night
ruined everything that's al right
i did not request a ring
anyway
not much left to say
it's all over and done with
should've been
could've been
would've been
more prepared
this time a little harder to read
your wants and my needs
you were a catch but i don't care
you only wanted someone to have fun with
then run away
flashing your dashing
doting, taunting, grin
i quit playing this impossible game
no stakes to claim
they're just too high
and i never win
just temporary
ordinary me
i can't make you hang around
i'll throw myself away
just look at me this tragedy
it started with your flattery
just temporary
ordinary me
i found it's better i'm alone
i got a grip
handle it
no waiting for the phone
to say your name
i keep on i write words
that speak my regret and my shame
there is nothing good
guys like you bring
girls like me
just deprive me
drive me kicking and screaming back to square one in a self-medicating
therapy it's over me
and under me i'm done with writing poetry
to get on forget
get over it and let
it roll on and just be gone
because you don't suffer
like i do
half my fault for trusting in
you
just temporary
ordinary me
i can't make you hang around
or stop you when you stray
just look at me
miss fancy free
you smooth talked it
right from under me
and held me close
and kissed me right
with eyes glued shut
i closed mine tight
but now i quit
put my foot down
i swear to it
i'm passionate
i'm not temporary
far from ordinary
you're deaf and dumb
and lost if you can't see
this new a little wiser version
of me.
Form:
Ask and remember
Every time I think of you.
Ask your friends, they say to remember your kindness, your dimple, and your smile given to everyone you met from a store clerk to the governor.
Ask your friends, they say to remember how charitable and optimistic you always were whether winning or in defeat.
Ask your friends, they say to remember, how you helped so many yet you didn’t ask for anything in return.
Every time I will think of you.
Ask your brothers and sister and me, to remember, all the football scrimmages in the yard or basketball half courts or viewing either on tv.
Ask your brothers and sister and me, to remember, your consoling words of “get over it” when we were lonely or sad.
Ask dad, your brothers and sister, and myself, to remember, all the times you lifted him up, gave him support, and cared about his daily needs.
Every time I will think of you.
Ask your teachers, they say to remember what a good student you were and how you were awarded to Boy’s State to learn how to govern.
Ask your coaches what they say to remember, what an amazing golfer you were, and how you continued to play even after the accident that would have left others unable to walk again.
Ask your fraternity brothers, and they say to remember how you were able to plan, set up, and attend a party and still make your grades and graduate.
Every time I will think of you.
Ask your employees, they say to remember you gave your time and money when anyone didn’t have something to eat, a car to drive, or a place to live.
Ask your MDA volunteers, and they say to remember, you shared the spotlight with all that helped any event succeed.
Ask your coworkers, they say to remember, you always gave encouragement and said the way to answer the phone is “It is a GREAT day at the Lake of the Ozarks!”
Every time I will think of you.
Ask your daughter, she will say to remember all of these things because you were her father, our brother, a son, and a friend.
Ask your daughter, she will say to remember that you were able to love and care about her the best you knew how.
Ask your daughter, she will say to remember how proud you felt because of the woman she had become and her ability to help others as you had done.
Every time I will think of you.
If you’ve ever been through any type of crisis in your life; especially having to experience complete and utter heart break, it definitely hurts like no other.
The most terrible thing about that is how much one doesn’t realize it does until it happens to them. In all honesty, it has happened to me several times in my lifetime. To be completely honest, it happened most recently and I don’t know if I’ll ever get over it. See, it never turns out when the heart thinks it’s ready to get it crushed over and over. I guess, one could say it’s a part of life.
Unfortunately, this happens all the time, not just to me either.
So, I believe that love is just some emotion that people tend to feel when they think it’s convenient.
It’s not really real.
What people put in movies and story books aren’t real their fantasy.
It’s funny how everything you ever believed in is complete utter bull.
I tell you, people believe in love like they believe in Santa clause.
So that being said, it is settled; love is nothing rather than some silly childhood fairy tale. People say that you find the “right one”, and “your soul mate” is out there. “Love” and “Destiny” is something sacred like marriage.
How can that be when most marriages end in divorce and in relationships there is domestic violence and women become pregnant out of wedlock? Lastly, no one wants to say this, but, complete grief and pain only come from love. So, I think I answer the question about whether to tell someone how you really feel about them. So, if you’re thinking about it, don’t do it. You don’t want to end up like me, a mess. You are only hurting yourself. Believe me, that’s what happens.
Reason why is, when rejection hits you square in the face and you feel your eyes well up and ready to burst into a flood of tears, you then want to hit yourself, because you know in that sudden moment, that what you thought was real or could’ve been is in ruins and there’s no way you can ever get over the heart ache of living with that truth that you kind of already knew within yourself was not reality or even ever possible to begin with.
So, trust me on this, don’t say a word if you’re feeling a certain way towards someone; because it will only end up in complete heart break.
You may think that Alopecia is a very simple disorder.
Your hair falls out, you buy a wig, you're good.
Wrong, in every use of the word.
Going bald means struggling to find yourself beautiful.
It means wanting to look at yourself in the mirror instead of avoiding one.
It means being able to run your hand across your head without cringing.
It means going out in public with a smile as a replacement for a wig.
Having Alopecia forces you to choose between being strong or being weak.
No matter what you choose, you are forced to come out strong in the end.
How can you not be?
When the children run away from you and refuse to touch you because you might infect them.
When the ignorant girl with the long blond hair takes pictures of you, making sure you catch the disgust that fills her expression like rotten milk.
When passerby stare and point at you shamelessly.
When the first thing that people will forever notice about you is your lack of hair.
When you have to force yourself to smile; ignore the people that refuse to stop staring at you.
When your eyelashes fall out, and you have to pick yourself up because you're the only one who cares enough to do so.
When your hair falls out and your friend tells you to get over it, expecting sympathy the next day when she comes to you in tears over her bad haircut.
When people remind you that nobody wants a bald girlfriend.
When people tell you you're beautiful even though you're bald, and you wonder why you can't be beautiful and bald at the same time?
When you wear a wig out in public, and people are surprised that you can be pretty.
When the children that you love can't be forced by their parents to smile at you.
Having Alopecia forces you to choose between being strong or being weak.
The countless hurdles you must jump to feel beautiful and loved ensure that you become strong.
Alopecia cannot be classified as simple, no matter the medical process.
The physiological pain that one with Alopecia must endure is trying and often times confusing.
From the children to the elderly, all those who have Alopecia, I congratulate you.
You are all strong and underestimated human beings.
Bald is Beautiful.
*Had to rant somewhere, I'll make it better later*
'Just get over it'
No we still haven't received reparations
And they are long overdue
Why would we get over it
When you prance around wearing bags made of our skin
Sitting your privileged self's on chairs oh so familiar
The fabric - our skin
But you'll never know
You'll never care
Because of your ignorance
Because what you don't know won't hurt you
But a little secret, I promise you it hurt us
Can't you hear the echoes of our ancestors
Or is your inability to basic human emotions
Cause you to go deaf in both of your ears
'Just get over it'
No how about you don't deny our history's existence
How about you stop going on the defence
Everytime you hear about the black experience
Why would we get over it
When it slaps us in the face
Every single day
Through the blood stained pavements
From segregation to alienation
Through the changing of weapons
Long gone are the harsh echoes of the whips
Is now the sharp bang of a gunshot
Going from personal torture
To cowardly killings
'Just get over it'
How can we
When everyday we carry the scars of our ancestors
And you carry the evil spirit of your ancestors
How are we supposed to walk the streets
Where public lynchings was free entertainment
Because no matter how hard you try to erase
The echoes of violence still linger
And the weight of generational trauma clings to a world we built
'Just get over it'
You may have drowned our cities
And set fire to our towns
But one thing remains known
Is how you'll never silence our screams
How can we get over it
When the rope Hangs from the trees
When segregation is over yet the ice in your eyes make known we are unwelcome
How sundown towns still exist with the same outcome
Where every ship is haunted by the fear
Our people faced
Drowning in the eerie thoughts of what's to come
When black history month
Reminds that nothing has really changed
The only difference is the rules of game they made
And the changing of the games name
You claim we are stuck in the past
But we are still living in it
How can we forget
When there's constant reminders
Hiding in every corner
Where every shadow leads to another piece of trauma
That reminds black is not just a colour