Thursday, January 27, 2011

screw this

when will she just reach her limit and look him in the eye
and tell him to screw it?

i wonder that sometimes.
i wonder that a lot.
when i hear her pain, i wonder it a whole lot.

will she ever just reach that place?

and why hasn't she already?

what keeps her from doing that?
what keeps her from really seeing?

no, she sees.
i know she sees.
she let me in on it once.
her seeing.

and then she slipped it away, locked it up again,
and doesn't go near there anymore.

sometimes i understand why people do things.
sometimes i see their issues and know what's running
them and can understand why they're doin' what they're doin'.
it's easier for me then.

but i don't understand her.
i still don't really know what drives her.

and i wonder over and over and over how you can get to
the point where you let someone drive you into the ground like that.

i watch.
quietly gently nudge her to take care of herself.

i can feel the resistance go up quickly.
i can feel i'm not welcome there.

i step back.
and wait in the shadows.

and i what point will she finally say 'screw it.
screw this. screw you.'

at what point will she announce she's worth taking care of?
at what point will she finally take care of herself?

and then the tears come to my eyes.
cause the main issue is obvious.
she can't think she's worth it.
she can't, can she?
she couldn't stay if she did.

and the tears begin to fall, because i know that there's
a whole lot of women who never reach the point of holding their value.
and owning their value - of living their value.

i know that a whole lot of women never ever get there.

i stand in the shadows instead of walking away.
i ask myself why.

because i love her.

and i care about her.

and maybe there's more.

maybe there's some symbolism in there.

maybe i stand in the shadows for all women who can't own
their value yet.

sometimes it feels like that to me.
this feels so big to me it feels like it must encompass more.

like maybe i can't walk away because of all those women.

i can't do it for her. i can't do it for them.
i can't even grab her/their hand and pull her/them along.
that's the nature of this stuff.
you gotta do it for yourself.
but i think always, no matter what, you have a sense of
someone standing in the shadows waiting for you.
and that makes a difference.

and that's why i'll stay there.
and gently, quietly nudge.
and remind her that i think she's worth it.

and maybe somehow that's my offering to all the women in her shoes.

i sit here and i pray that each and every one of them finds the strength
to say 'screw this,' and turn towards their self worth...their value...
their life.

1 comment:

Merry ME said...

Sometimes fear is the driving force.
This pain she knows. What pain (or joy) is lurking out there in the unknown? What if she finds out he was right? What if she finds out she was wrong? What if someone else finds out?

For me staying was all about fear. I made up all kinds of excuses but mainly I was scared.

Funny isn't it, that one can get to a place where pain is comforting. Not funny, funny. Sad funny. Weird funny.