D is for Dysfunction.

art, blog, life, dysfunction, akira, selfcare, healing

 

Better out than in they say, but dysfunction takes a long time to finally break. In my earnest endeavors to ignore the functionality of my pain I grew hard in ways that will never get better unless I commit to change. So I take steps away from thoughts and feelings that trick me into believing that other people are my problem. The only person I have the power to correct or control is me. In reality, even I carry the mistake of thinking that I am invulnerable. The truth is I am wounded, and in need of healing. Things that are broken can never operate at their original capacity. Cracks allow doubt and shame to seep through. Trouble is a constant barrier and denial is a coping mechanism. But if I take the time to address the scars I habitually covered; if I make it my business to come face to face with the dysfunction I wrongfully clung to–then maybe one day there can be healing for you, too.

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Miracles (Day 1)

Miracles happen everyday.

But I feel like I am stuck repeating redundant story lines without any real release. It is time to accept reality. To gather all of my dignity and recognize my own potential. I can say that I am not my mistakes and that I am worthy of love that is not easily shaken. But I have to be adaptable when the picture has changed.

Love did not abandon me. It did not stick out its foot and trip me. Real love can overcome everything. But love can not be the only thing covering us. Sometimes we fall in love with the wrong ones. People who want you to cross the entire bridge rather than meet you halfway. People who only understand love under the context of chase.

Once the mystery is gone, so are they.

I am worthy of understanding. Someone who will experience me at my lowest and draw nearer when I need it the most. Someone who can filter through my anger and still want to keep me close. I do not need a love whose decision will always be to walk away or let me leave.

Real love keeps fighting.

Sometimes I give up. I get tired of fighting for something that no one else wants. I am told that I am unreasonable. But everyone has their limit and it is hard to recover once you have reached it. There is nothing a person can do or say that will make a difference to the one who is not committed to stay.

One day you’ll grow tired of them walking away.

Resistance.

relationships, poetry, resistance, healingThere will always be a part of me
that is resistant to change.
But the truth is so much harder to ignore
when you keep making the same mistakes.

Doubt trickles into my subconscious.
I want better, but I am a prisoner
to my current state.
Afraid to exercise patience, self-control
and most of all, release.
Captive to desires that are
more interested in fighting than peace.

 

No one can exist in two alternate planes.
You are either working towards a purpose
or passively remaining the same.
We are terrible at taking steps away from grief.
Hard-hearted lovers who no longer believe.

Terrible when truth keeps us chained to our pain.
When we have no other option, but to walk away.


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Beyond Reason.

I love you, beyond reason. And most of the time, without doubt.
But sometimes, my brokenness slips past the cracks of my control.
Rising up from the basement–where I’ve kept its influence at bay.
Until it finds a way into my mouth. And forces me to lash out.

I have learned to live with its existence. To give grief and pain a place.
Because no matter how much you love someone, there will be times
that you push them away.

I retreat. To my corner, to my bedroom, to a horizontal position on the couch.
Sinking deeper into the cushions. Getting comfortable in the gloom and the clouds.

Will you find me beneath the dark waters? Swim harder if you know I will drown?

Or will the murky surroundings conceal your vision?
And keep us both from climbing back out.

Callous, Cold Woman.

We separate by force. Distance keeps us at arms bay.
But I know I’ll crave your embrace in these coming days.
I wonder if your peace still lies with me.
Can you even sleep?

Or is your heart at rest knowing the best part is over?
And all that remains is effort given in vain.

Most people give up too quickly.
Doubt consumes courage.
Love grows sour.
And interest steadily declines.

I continue to hope for you.
Pray you’re at your best.
Even if at the end of things,
I don’t express much clearly.

I refused to be consistent because
I never wanted you to depend on me.

I mirrored your habits.
Became someone less…

But I digress.

I just want your heart
to be at rest.

 

Emphasis on Continually. (200 words)

Several bouts of loneliness later, I endeavored to stop trying. I realized I am stuck in my ways, and fitted with an intense stubbornness that will not acquiesce so easily. Maybe if we met 10 years ago you could have “saved me” from myself–as men so often claim to do when women are being unreasonable. But now–now, I am content to build my castle with the debris from every failed relationship behind me. I do not understand the concept of prince charming. And I have no reservation about taking care of my own responsibilities.

Most importantly, I do not want anything that does not want me.

What is mine however, falls under the wing of my intention. I am part lover, all-fighter and sometimes both roles demand emphasis. Love does not just exist when we are madly locked in a passionate embrace. It does not trifle with temporary.

Love says, “I woke up early to make you breakfast in preparation for your meeting”.
Love commands your attention when you forget why you are fighting.
Love says, “I choose YOU,” over other people, over my doubts, over this ugly mess we created.
Love is continually choosing US over EVERYTHING.

….Emphasis on continually.


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See You There!

–Jen Cosby

Party of 3 (200 words)

I saw the clouds in your eyes as you tried to remember why you started. That blanketed expression you offered when you wished things were different although you know life has the ultimate and final say. What could ever possess a person to commit their entire life to dying with nothing but the darkest stenches of mediocrity? Why does living feel like the longest endeavor when it is the soul held captive in this unforgiving human body? Maybe the biggest fear is that they won’t consider your efforts–when the truth is intention means nothing if it does not bring you peace. It used to be about love and honest representation, but now all we do is mask our eternal suffering. Mistakes linger in our hearts–puncturing foundations with their ever-present tease. I know I am not above this “missing pieces” theory. Just like you, I fear failure and the inevitability of time given in vain, if I leave. But you can’t force puzzles to fit where they are not meant to be. I just wish you would admit to yourself what neither party wants to believe:

You will never find what you are looking for, if you refuse to set yourself free.

 


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– Jen Cosby