Not all broken commitments hurt. Some we hope won’t work. Some commitments we initially hope don’t work out, and then when they don’t, we realize we do want it to work out. Then there’s some that work out and you wished they didn’t. The ones that workout just the way you planned, are priceless.
I enjoy a good romance or a good cry from the loss of a character I’ve come to feel close to. I like delaying or sacrificing my own current desires for my daughters. I like spending time with those I feel most connected to. These are all descriptions of love. But I’d really like to see us start getting more creative by using descriptions of how you show appreciation to those closest to you.
When I started using other words besides the word love, it opened a ton of different ways I could develop a healthy relationship with myself. “Yes, Self, I love you” just became redundant and didn’t really help me step into a place of action. Now, when I’m doing something for myself I define the action. “I’m going to allow myself to step away to write because it helps me unload my thoughts which gives me the energy to focus on the needs of my daughters and my mother.”
Love is a beautiful word and I don’t want to wipe it from our language, but maybe we have allowed it to become too general. We’ve allowed it to become this elusive thing that is selective to only those with the ability to feel, but that’s not true. So let’s stop using love as a magical word, and instead try out using different words or phrases that show how you are stepping into action for those closest to you.
Here’s a list of different action words that we can use instead of love.
You are fully…..Read more
Love is too general
Let’s use more words
To describe the many ways
We cherish those closest to us
Let’s talk this out…
What do you need right now?
Sometimes in the moment you don’t know what you need. Sometimes it takes an entire conversation to figure it out. It’s going to take courage to talk it out. So not only is it important to find someone able to deliver, that someone should also be willing to sit through the conversation.
Either you’ll figure out what you need and get it which in turn helps you learn to give it
“Or [you’ll] realize the person you’re asking doesn’t have the capacity to deliver. Both are gifts.”
Good night WordPress world. Sleep well. (Unless you have to write, then you should be writing😉)
As long as I can put words to the way I feel, it’s free and open to the public. Unfortunately, living that way can frustrating because so many people are scared to share their own feelings.
Why would I continue to be so honest and care free with my thoughts and feelings knowing it leaves me vulnerable?
First, I know that sharing my feelings will give others the strength to share their own. Or help others to know they’re not alone in their own experiences.
Second, it helps me to have and set realistic expectations because over time expressing myself helps me learn what things bother me and what things make me smile.
And last but not least, when I’m finally around groups people who share their thoughts and feelings without fear, it’s so liberating for me. Makes me want to provide that space for people as well.
Why do you share your feelings or why don’t you?
I mouth the words hoping they’ll be caught
But without a sound I could be saying anything
He doesn’t mouth a thing
He stands there staring waiting for more from me
But I have such a hard time getting my own words out
“What are you thinking?” I mouth silently
He stands there waiting for his turn to speak
but I continue to mouth my own questions that I so badly want answered
Empty sex, soulless endeavors and failed attempts at trying to find ourselves somewhere buried beneath all the shit we were drowning in. He called me a bitch in front of the kid and I didn’t like that so I reached out and socked him right in the chin. “I don’t need this. Why am I even here?” Only I knew why I was there. He had this freedom my tiny inexperienced little fingers just wanted to grasp and never let go of. Only thing is his freedom came with a price he wasn’t willing to share. The previous day we were all cuddled up watching Nemo. Snacks mingled with kisses. Things were quiet and I told him why I liked him and he told me why he liked me. It’s for reasons I can’t recall because there’s something about toxic relationships that make the good times fade much quicker than the worst. You gotta dig a little deeper to find the nice girl hidden behind the slutty bitch. There was this one time we made dinner together, daughter in high chair, music on, and bare feet tapped against the black and white tiles. We danced and sang terrible lyrics and smiled in fear that tomorrow was nipping at our heels. And it nipped. I tell him he’s useless, he tells me I’m a whore. We go back and forth till the socking happened. Shitty, I know. That may have been one of those nights I lost a handful of pearls on the floor of some other guys bedroom. We just wanted the release, you know. I’m not sure either of us ever got it.
By: Michael Morlock
curled up on the floor, surrounded by toys, crawling under your daughters blanket just to try and be close to the things you love the most, and it’s still only you, alone, smothering beneath the coloured comforter, neck at a harsh angle, face burning against the coarse carpet, willing and wishing for something, anything to come fill you up, but you’re still empty, like the crib, like your cupped upturned hand, like the passing days with no child or partner to hold on to, to help you hold on. vision is rope. and the further you try to make it extend the more frayed it becomes. 20/20 summed up when all is said and done is 40. that’s only a few more years from now and the rope seems pretty thin and faulty on certain days. days frequently named “too often”. “all the time” in the parlance of childish over-exaggerated speaking. if there are even words. not just mumbles. whispers. thoughts which never quite reach the mouth to find their way out and you no longer comprehend the difference or the fact that these things only are spoken in your head, and you wonder why no one hears you anymore. did they ever? if a person falls for longer then a short rest, do they make a sound anyone can hear over the raucous din of their own lives?
will we even notice the passing of one another as we travel on our journey? or do we not recognize the ones who’ve lost direction until it’s too late?
loneliness burrows deep, undermines the roots of trees, the foundations of structures, the will of even the strongest souls.
so much of life is the slow dirt crumble waiting for the cave in.
Michael Morlock, a father, artist, and time traveler from New England. You can find him @themancalledmorlock
Once in a blue moon
a shed human like me steps behind the scenes
With their skin in hand crying begging pleading to be loved
And the whole time I was begging and pleading with tears in my eyes
Hoping that just one other miserable misfit would shed,
step behind the scenes
And join me.