On Motherhood & Sanity

Monday, July 29, 2013

beasts within and the merry go round

Fear, anxiety, vertigo.
A black hole opens inside me with no previous warning.
Just the music from the merry go round reminding me of my demons.
Reminding me of the dark hole at my center where beasts live.
beasts that must be appeased, sang to and distracted,
Beasts with a never ending desire for blood,
my blood.

Night falls. The heavy traffic stops,
and with the silence comes fear.
Maybe she was there all along, but it is only now I can hear her.
Quietly she whispers possibilities into my ear
‘Anything can and will happen.
Any day, any moment can be the last
 of life, as you know it.’

Holding her hand is gratefulness.
For every breath and every mundane routine.
Every memory made and not wasted.
She is dancing to the music of the merry go round.
‘dance’ she sais to me ‘dance while we still have feet and a ground to stand on’

Morning comes with a bitter aftertaste of too much wine
Which I don’t remember tasting.
Coffee and biscuits dipped in a nagging feeling of something left undone,
of lives unlived and dreams that must be forgotten.
Anchors raised, the boat is left to wonder at the mercy of the sea.
No more resistance.

Washed away by the morning tide, all trace of dancing has been erased.
The smell of regret lingers on my fingers like old cigarettes.
I don’t remember what I regret,
but close my eyes and breathe in deep the smell of the sea.
The cool morning breeze mixed with memories wraps around me.
In the distance I can hear the sound of life going about its business,
cleaning dishes or taking out the garbage,
disturbing the silence which is trying to speak to me, to remind me.
Of what? I know not

An ever so light memory of the music lingers in the air
For the most part the day is silent now, the beasts appeased.
They’ll come again unannounced and without prior warning.
In the meantime, and without knowing quite why,
 I get up and keep on dancing

Thursday, July 11, 2013

This time last year

this time last year I had entirely different dreams, concerns and projects.

this time last year I had entirely different plans.

this time last year I could have never guessed this outcome.

this time next year.... what will it bring?

Monday, July 8, 2013

June family self portrait, Dean Street

Dean Street, Brooklyn

I had a completely different idea in mind for this month, but alas, life happens.

I like that  it really captures where we are now. The kids are enjoying their summer and really into their capoeira, while the hubs and I are barely keeping it together. Happy but overwhelmed and exhausted. You can totally see that in our faces and our body language. It's also nice that we ended up taking it in the house as we are moving out (and into our new home) in three weeks. Below is a picture of the kitchen/dining (or as we like to call it, the chill room) in our new home. It kind of explains the stress levels.


The family self portrait  project started in January 2011. 
I take one portrait of the whole family, myself included, once a month.  

Every family should do this. 

To see previous months click on the links below:


Monday, July 1, 2013

an ode to her

What if I told you there is no death. Would you believe me?

I doubt my reasons could reach you through the damp darkeness that ‘s wrapped around your hear at this moment.  What I feel to be an obvious truth would be of no comfort. That she, the one you miss, is with you, near you, around you and within you. That she is – as you weep for her- trying to comfort you. Like she did many times before when you fell, stumbled  or cried.

This is much worse you say.

But to her it is not, now that she is prevy to the enormity of love and the shallowness of  pain. Now that she knows it is but a whisper that  separates you. That she can’t miss you because there is no distance between you. Now that she knows that your separation is no more real than when as a child you cried because she left the room.

In the meantime. May your heart find comfort in the love she bathed you with and the years filled with  laughter together. May your soul find rest in knowing that she is no longer enslaved by a cruel error of nature, but free to roam. And may your broken heart heal and slowly limp again into laughter, nurtured and cared for by the fruits of her love.