Q-tips – Reaching Joy

https://reachingjoythree.wordpress.com/

Q-tips feel good when I scratch inside my ear,

try to find what’s living in there.

Is it guilt for being “the golden child,”

my sister running away to the Hewitt playground

because of the dark shadow behind me?

Maybe it’s associations, trauma,

changing the narrative as a practice,

taking gentle effort, taking time?

Idealized stories of my crush, perhaps?

Am I going to dig him out first, then her,

compare their waxy edges on each tip?

I scratch because it feels good.

In the past, it was compulsion.

Now I have the skills to figure as much;

Now I’d rather not feel the anxiety rush,

the fear, the hush, as the world crumples up

before me, slides me back to a time I cannot

return to but my mind sometimes remembers.

Is the Q-tip pushing pressure back,

into my throat, my jaw, my brain cells?

Practice makes…practice. In and of itself.

I see my socially isolated past, sitting,

mentally alone in a purple, rubber-smelling

locker room, see my dad cry when he reflects,

“I saw her cry! And I still let her go, I let her go!”

I see my sister, sitting on the slide, moon glow

settling in on her face,

my brother and I fearful, waiting on my bed,

wondering how to live without her.

How did the playground smell that night?

Was anxiety running through your sixth-grade veins?

Did you find a sense of peace when the police

showed up, brought you back home?

You had a boyfriend at the time.

I’m not sure

but maybe that’s when I started

idealizing you, too.

Your skills with boys, with friends,

getting a laugh, people to care.

Things that matter more than grades and sports and dance —

two steps right and two steps left towards “perfection.”

Contrived. Defected. Just like that college locker room.

I felt so alone, so sad. You did, too.

Twin expressions of a time,

like wax on both sides of a stick

never designed for the inside of the ear.

But I don’t know…

it just looks like the ear is exactly

where it was meant to be.

May 9, 2020

for more joy, click on over: https://reachingjoythree.wordpress.com/

Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

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