I feel bad that I haven't written for a while. Things have been really busy for me. A new semester started and I am in a Creative Non-fiction writing class, an Intermediate Poetry writing class, and an Intermediate Algebra class. The combination of these classes means that I barely have time to sleep. Also, I am tutoring 5th graders in reading at a local elementary school. I'm trying to get other areas of my life in order as well, and so I've just had a lot of different things competing for my time. What I've realized is that I need to include making time for writing on this blog, because this blog is an outlet for me. It's a way for me to connect with people I care about and who care about open adoption. My lack of writing doesn't mean that I haven't been thinking a lot about what I would write about. And as usual, what I want to write about is hard to explain, but I will definitely try my hardest to say it.
My poetry class and my creative non-fiction class have really pushed my limits as far as writing and the construct behind writing. I've always felt like I was an "okay" writer of poetry, but this class has shown me that... there is a lot I didn't know. Ironically enough, I was more worried about going in to my creative non-fiction class because I didn't know what it would involve (this genre of writing is hard to define, therefore my hesitancy), but it's proven to be the class I am doing best in. As for math... I have nothing pleasant to say about it.
The semester is officially half-way over. And for the 8 weeks that have passed, I have been living in the land of memory because I've had to write a personal essay that was just critiqued in front of my entire class 2 days ago. Not all of it has been pleasant. For the next 7 weeks, I will continue residing in the land of memory, because I have another entire-class critique the week before finals.
I've been dealing with some other things on top of the stress of this semester. Something I haven't written about that I am going to mention right now is that back in April of this year I decided to separate ways with my family. I'm not going to go into the details of this decision on here, but I feel like it is necessary to let you all know because you all have been an important part in my growth and healing after placement, and honesty is important.
Simply put, this year has been hard. The decision I made in April, I made because I felt like I was disappearing. I can't describe that feeling. I was caught up in so many people's extreme emotions and I was trying to make it all better for everyone involved, and what it was doing to me was erasing me. It was at this time that I started considering that maybe I had a severe mental health disease because I didn't trust anyone, especially myself. So, I did something for myself. I shut myself off from all the confusion and I have been working through the confusion ever since.
I've been sorting through the confusion of my life and I'm better for it. For as hard as this year has been for me, I'm grateful for it. When you have people from every angle whispering insecurity in you and you lose your voice amidst all of the anger, that's when you begin to disappear. I cut off all the noise and I'm better for it. I'm more at peace with myself. I'm more secure in myself. I'm happier. I think that's hard for certain people to hear because they don't want to believe it, but it's true. I have a focused idea of where I want my life to go now and it's not competing with the whispers of everyone else. Sometimes I still hear echoes of the whispers because of the actions of others' and how they are still affecting my life in an attempt to gain control, but I know how to ignore them now, and I'm better off for it. Those people know who they are and I know how reading this post may make them feel, but that's not my problem anymore; it belongs with them.
I've been afraid to blog because everything I do right now is being analyzed by people who I really don't want to have contact with anymore. But, this is my blog. And these are my feelings. And I will not stop expressing them.
On that note, I'd like to share a poem I came across that I've been thinking about over the course of this semester so far. It is by Wislawa Szymborska who just recently passed away. She is a woman of Polish descent who survived the Holocaust. She has a beautiful way of expressing vulnerability and strength at the same time and I appreciate her poetry for that reason. Enjoy. The meaning is left up to you, that's the beauty of poetry (it is something for everyone); I already know what it means to me.
Under One Small Star
My apologies to change for calling it necessity.
My apologies to necessity if I'm mistaken, after all.
Please, don't be angry, happiness, that I take you as my due.
May my dead be patient with the way my memories fade.
My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second.
My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first.
Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home.
Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger.
I apologize for my record of minuets to those who cry from the depths.
I apologize to those who wait in railway stations for being asleep today at five a.m.
Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time.
Pardon me, deserts, that I don't rush to you bearing a spoonful of water.
And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage,
your gaze always fixed on the same point in space,
forgive me, even if it turns out you were stuffed.
My apologies to the felled tree for the table's four legs.
My apologies to great questions for small answers.
Truth, please don't pay me much attention.
Dignity, please be magnanimous.
Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from your train.
Soul, don't take offense that I've only got you now and then.
My apologies to everything that I can't be everywhere at once.
My apologies to everyone that I can't be each woman and each man.
I know I won't be justified as long as I live,
since I myself stand in my own way.
Don't bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words,
the labor heavily so that they may seem light.
-Wislawa Szymborska
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