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The Dalema

Finding The Woman I'm Meant To Be

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Habits

Vice

Old habits die hard

Because they never die at all.

And unfortunately,

You’re habitual.

I do it on purpose

To remind me of the pain.

And every time it happens

I wish it never would again.

Old habits die hard

Because they never die at all

When I reach for the phone

You’re the one I call.

And you always answer

Even when you shouldn’t

And every time you do

My God, I wish you wouldn’t.

Old habits die hard

Because they never die at all

And even when I feel nothing

You’re habitual.

  • The Dalema. March 1, 2018.
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Runner

It’s just what I do – I cut people from my life and I run. I run as far away as fast as I can. Because that betrayal, that hurt – it reminds me of a time and place. A place I can’t go to, a way I can’t let myself feel. It’s so dark that it rips pieces and parts of your soul so deep that even if you could, you would never want to feel again.

Running from that place and cutting that darkness from your life – it’s the only way you’ll survive. Sometimes doors are closed, the handles are locked, the deadbolts are switched and the hinges are glued because it’s a place you can never see. If you let yourself go back there – you’ll never find yourself again. You’ll be so lost in the darkness, you’ll forget what light was like. You’ll feel so much pain that you’ll beg for someone to put an end to it all. You’d rather feel nothing than ever feel that way again.

So I run. I run as far away as fast as I can. Even if I have nothing to run to. It’s time to put my running shoes on – I’m ready to chase the pavement.

A Woman of Love

My dilemma? I’m a woman of love. I long for love; self love, love of my career and to be in love with someone (and have that love returned). When I woke up this morning I realized I’m missing love from my life.

I used to get up at 5 a.m. to go to the gym, then I’d meal prep and get ready for work. I’d walk into work excited for the day, for the challenges I’d face. I loved feeling caught up the tasks; so overwhelmed by my work load that, by the time I could catch a breath, it was already well passed the end of my work day. I used to feel so much pride; pride from my work, my health and fitness – pride in who I was.

I can’t pin-point exactly when my habits changed. I tried, exhaustingly, to form new ones. I tried to get back into doing what I had done for so long. But there wasn’t any light to be found in my darkness. There wasn’t any flicker of motivation or hope. There was just the underlying question of who the f*** had I become?

Now I’m staring at a grey canvas. Not the light grey that calms and soothes you, not the dark grey that shows in the sky before a storm. It’s the kind of grey found on the wallpaper in church basements – the old looking grey with a twinge of yellow; the kind of grey that never sees the sun.

My life, right now, is a grey canvas. It terrifies me – I’m stuck staring at a grey canvas begging God to splash some sort of color on it, something – anything, to motivate me again. Because this life I’m living without love; love of self, love of my career – the slightest possibility of love from another – just won’t do.

  • The Dalema. January 28, 2016

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