Walking Through Fear

I remember standing in line with the heat of the Texas sun flooding down, as I held my brothers small, sweaty hand. We were waiting to see "Grease," and the buttery smell of popcorn rushing out of the air conditioned theater each time someone opened or closed the door made me feel sick to my stomach. I was eleven, and I didn't understand the word "rape." I didn't have the vocabulary at the time for what had happened to me. The timeline in my head is confused, but it must have happened not long before this memory.  We stood in the heat, and I remember feeling lost and numb. As soon as we stepped inside the lobby, I vomited all over the ticket takers shoes. My brother began to cry. I took him into the bathroom, wiped his tears, and scrubbed the splattered bile from my tennis shoes with a useless paper towel. We weren't with an adult, but they let us in without question to see the movie. That probably wouldn't happen in 2016. I dropped into that film as if my life depended on it. I was every song, every line, and every laugh. It was then that I must have decided I no longer wanted to be me. I don't think of that time in my life very often anymore, but I still live with certain fears. A preview for that movie was on the television the other evening, which brought back that particular memory. I was also triggered at the yoga studio because I now teach a 7:00-8:15 p.m. class on Monday nights. I'm nervous to walk to my car in the dark when I close alone. We are located near a Pizza Hut, and often there are a couple of guys out there taking their smoke breaks. I fear groups of men even more than I fear a man who is alone because I was raped by two, and I'm almost certain that while I was being raped, there were other people who knew it was going on. I'm trying, but it causes a lot of anxiety for me. It also brings out some anger, because I'm tired of being afraid. I even thought about giving up that class because of it, and that is ridiculous. I do not want to allow fear to get in the way of living my life. I am not a little girl anymore. Wish me luck tonight as I walk through my fear.

"Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night." ~Sarah Williams

Artwork by~ Akageno Saru

Friend, Not Foe

I am deeply and suddenly exhausted in a way that I think comes from surviving and living my life, which we are all doing in our own ways, but as a person with mental health issues, I am constantly having to find and use healthy coping skills. I am a highly anxious person which I think probably surprises many people, because I hide it well. My co-workers are always telling me how calm I am, but on the inside, I'm often tied in knots. I have been struggling with panic attacks, and intense worry over losing the important people in my life.  I hide because of shame. I have suffered since childhood with dissociative episodes, which means that it is common for me to lose chunks of time, where I remember nothing. It is how I coped with trauma, but now it is maladaptive, and no longer serves a purpose, and yet many things still trigger me to dissociate. I use a lot of energy trying to stay grounded, but also I'm worn out from the anxiety over whether or not I'm going to have a panic attack or dissociate. I have found many healthy coping skills such as yoga, meditation, deep breathing, and general self care, but I still fight my demons on a daily basis. 

I was on medication for many years, which I hated, and although I have generally done very well without medication, I'm back to looking in that direction to get some relief. I haven't decided yet, but it is an option I'm considering. I feel disappointed in myself that I don't handle stress in a "normal" way. I even feel angry in the amount of effort it takes for me to manage all of my symptoms, and then criticize myself for being whiny and ungrateful when other people suffer more than I do. Inside of my head there is constant arguing going on! I catch my negative self talk, and work on re-framing. I work hard on recovery, so I will take credit for that. I also have a deep passion to help other people to find their way through recovery, and that brings immense satisfaction.  

I realize that life is ever changing, but sometimes doesn't it seem like the universe is careening out of control? Maybe it is just me...

My dog is sick, my husband has a brain tumor, I worry about my kids lives, my jobs keep me running, and there are so many things going on at one time. I get easily overwhelmed, and I think too much about the small details that I lose sight of the big picture. I will handle whatever comes my way, because I have an excellent track record, but damn, it sure is terrifying at times! I am grateful for the people in my life who support and love me. I have an amazing life, and I am the one who allows fear to get in the way. I want to improve upon how I deal with stress, because I know it can be better. I have come such a long way, and I easily brush that aside because I'm used to kicking myself. Doing the best I can never seems good enough...

I need to treat myself more like a friend because being at war with myself has certainly never worked. 

The Weight of Fear

I swallow more tears than I shed. 

It is rare for me to have a "good" cry, and I'm being sarcastic when I say that. It is not that I don't cry at all. I almost cry a lot! I feel the tears forming, and I do everything I can to keep them in. 

Because of this, I'm beginning to feel the weight of holding it all inside. There is nothing wrong with my life. I am probably the happiest I have ever been, but even so, my heart races, I have sudden panic attacks, and I become scared of everyone, even the people I adore the most. I do my best to hide these fears, because I understand how irrational they are. Hiding your feelings is a death sentence, or at least it is for me. I build fear like a fortress surrounding myself, and then, to tear it down, I set myself on fire. I'm quite the expert, except that I used to be so numb that I didn't recognize the chaos and damage I was creating in the process of trying to kill the pain. The last time I cried was toward the end of a yoga class over a year ago, and I could feel it coming. I fled to the studio bathroom, sobbing uncontrollably, half hoping that no one would notice, but a dear friend watched me leave class. I crouched down in the stall, unsure of exactly why I was so emotional, but when she wrapped her arms around me, I felt comforted, and more than that, understood, without explanation. I was grateful for her quiet presence. 
Crying alone is lonely! 
In therapy sessions, I try to hold it in even more, because I know I will not be comforted. I suppose they are trained to just sit there and stare at you, saying nothing, and waiting for you to stop. I'm sure it is all about boundaries, or maybe I'm supposed to learn how to self soothe. It is not that my therapist isn't caring, because she is, but it feels awkward.  

I almost cry in yoga all of the time! I understand the emotional need for release, but I feel ashamed of any emotion that I have labeled in my mind as negative. Maybe if I cried more, I would panic less? It is worth a try, I suppose!, so if you see me in tears, simply smile and give me a thumbs up, or even an encouraging hug. I most likely have no idea why I'm crying. Perhaps it is only the left over weight of fear...

Time Is A Wise Teacher

I'm finding it interesting as I travel through my time here on earth, how clearly I can make sense of my journey from the grace of distance. Only weeks ago I was paralyzed with fear, unsure of what I had manifested in my life, and worried about the unknown. My husbands neurology appointment was looming, and fear of the unknown state of his health paired with my own fear of being successful left me frozen in my tracks. My first instinct was to withdraw and check out, which I did for awhile, but all that created was more suffering and anxiety. I made a decision to stop a certain behavior that I won't go into here, but it was harmful, and getting in the way of healing. I'm not sure why I turned this particular corner when I did, but it has left me with a beautiful feeling of lightness. 

Last week, Dave and I went to his appointment, and it was not the news that we wanted to hear. The radiation he had last year to treat his brain tumor didn't work, and his tumor is still growing. This is not what we were expecting to hear, which brought not only fear, but great disappointment. We have been sitting with this news, both dealing with it in our own ways, as well as beginning to make plans for what this will mean in all of our lives as a family. There are changes and transitions that will have to be made, and it can all become overwhelming if we get too far ahead of ourselves. 

Friday evening, I went to the yoga studio to teach my class, and as soon as I pulled into the parking lot of the studio, a wave of peace washed over me. I felt such relief to be able to shift my thoughts to the students in my class, and to simply be present with them. After class, I went to Satsang, which is offered by the owner of the studio. Satsang is an evening that focuses on chanting mantras, healing mudras, and sharing community. The evening was focused on moving energy, manifesting our intentions, and most importantly, finding joy. I could feel the shift within myself as the night came to a close, and I realized the next day what it was that had changed. It wasn't the situation that had changed, but the way in which I chose to look at the situation.  I could allow myself to continue to be paralyzed by my fears of the unknown, creating self destruction through harmful behaviors, or I could choose to see the joy and beauty right in front of me in this very moment. My husband is alive, we have this time together, and it would be wrong not to take advantage of this gift. I am living my dream of teaching yoga, and working with the eating disorder community to help others to heal. I have to trust this journey and the path that I am on, even through doubt and fear. 
Time is such a wise teacher.

Artwork by~ Cassandra Barney

Learning How to Say Goodbye

This constant need for something more is tiresome. I always think that this "one more thing" will be enough, when all that I long for is to feel that I am enough where I am. I have been reflecting on the concept of aparigraha, which is Sanskrit for non-hoarding or non-possessiveness. It is also one of five yamas or personal observances of the yogic path.  I have been reading a book by Rolf Gate's titled Meditations from the Mat, and his thoughts on aparigraha speak volumes to me at this point in my life.

"Aparigraha advises us to travel light while on the spiritual path. We must let go of the old to make room for the new; we must grieve our dead and then let go in order to love the living...More difficult is the aspect of aparigraha that concerns worn out beliefs. Many of the basic assumptions that guide our daily choices are unconscious, unseen...Collectively, these old thoughts and ideas are an energy in our lives that rob us of the moment...just as we take boxes of old clothing to the Salvation Army, we can begin shedding our old ideas. I am not a hoarder, I am a non-relinquisher. I don't want to grieve the loss of anything. Aparigraha is an opportunity to learn how to say goodbye."

It is one of many fears that I have...This fear of doing without, losing people, and losing the dreams that I have worked so hard to build. These fears break my heart, making it difficult to truly enjoy what I do have, and on top of it I feel tremendous guilt for even having these feelings. It frustrates me to know that I need to learn how to relinquish because I'm at a loss on how precisely to accomplish such an elusive feat. If anyone has tips, I would love for you to share them with me!

"If I can let you go as trees let go/Their leaves, so casually, one-by-one/If I can come to know what they do know/Lose what I lose to keep what I keep/The strong root still alive under the snow/Love will endure-if I can let you go." ~May Sarton

Where I Am

I wanted to write something here to commemorate my year of teacher's training, and becoming a certified yoga instructor...something profound and emotional, but this is merely the beginning of a journey. I have no idea where this journey is taking me, and for once in my life, I'm somewhat okay with not knowing where I'm going. 

I'm grateful to have a job teaching yoga, which doesn't feel like a job at all, but a beautifully wrapped gift that I unwrap every time I teach. I'm more excited than afraid, and I'm still trying to fully comprehend that emotion, because fear has been a constant companion for a long time. My very wise yoga teacher challenged my thinking last weekend when I was talking to her, and she said, "I think you are excited, not afraid..." She wasn't far off, although there was some performance anxiety, and pressure that I put on myself, I was also terribly excited! Once the weekend of testing and teaching my practicum class was over, all that seemed to be left was exhaustion. I was drained, and after all of the build up, it came crashing down with a lot of unexplained feelings. I still need help understanding feelings, so talking to my therapist on Monday gave me some comfort, and talking through my emotions helped me to make sense of everything. Tuesday night I taught, and it was strange how having that certification boosted my confidence, even though my knowledge wasn't any greater than the week before. I'm trying to enjoy this moment, and not get too far ahead of myself, but there is so much to do! 

There is always another dream, 
another idea, 
and another goal to reach toward, 

but for today, 

I'm enjoying where I am. 

Difficult Transitions

"Don't move the way fear makes you move. Move the way love makes you move. Move the way joy makes you move." ~Osho

I have been thinking about fear for most of the day, and it began early this morning when I was practicing yoga with a friend. We were practicing the Ashtanga primary series, and we were in bakasana, also known as crow pose, and my friend floated effortlessly from crow into low plank, which is something I've been working on, but I'm afraid, and the fear doesn't make me move at all. After I read this quote, I tried to practice the transition again, hoping that if I thought loving and joyful thoughts, maybe it would happen, but nope, the fear was still there, and as I hovered in crow, my heart pounding furiously, I stepped one foot back, and then the other, as usual. I attempted three more times before calling it good, but I thought about all of the times in my life that fear had paralyzed me. I have no doubt that I will eventually master this difficult transition, just as I have overcome other fears in my life. I was explaining in my yoga class this morning, that often when we feel we are stuck in our lives, we are actually taking the time to gather strength and courage before leaping into the unknown. I'm more patient with myself than I have ever been in my life, and so I will continue to practice with love and joy, knowing all the while that I have the perseverance to conquer my fears. 

A Wordless Darkness

Nothing makes me more afraid than my own silence. I want to write, but the words are only fragments of incomplete thoughts, and I realize that I'm so overwhelmed by feelings of pain, that I have become incoherent. My therapist mentioned that my hyper vigilance has increased, and she is right...I'm always waiting for the next bad thing. It is a symptom of post traumatic stress which I struggle with, and the severity comes and goes. I feel helpless when it comes to dealing with a current situation that is going on in my life at the moment. I blame myself, and there is no way to fix it. Everyday I walk out of my house and slap a smile on my face, but inside I'm frozen with fear.  

 

“I must say a word about fear. It is life's only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unnerving ease. It begins in your mind, always ... so you must fight hard to express it. You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it. Because if you don't, if your fear becomes a wordless darkness that you avoid, perhaps even manage to forget, you open yourself to further attacks of fear because you never truly fought the opponent who defeated you.”  
~Yann Martel Life Of Pi    

A Frightening Place

I had an appointment with my nutritionist after a month of not seeing her. Not much has changed in my eating. For the most part, the restriction is unfortunately a part of my routine. I told my nutritionist that it wasn't dangerous restriction, which as you guessed, she jumped all over. I only meant that it isn't as bad as it used to be. I had some very "normal" eating on Friday and Saturday, with movie treats and everything! I tend to think of a day with 3 meals and snacks as a huge binge, or at least for me, it feels that way. This morning hasn't been filled with positive self talk. The fear when increasing my food intake is that I will lose control, overeating on a daily basis, and that I will never be satisfied. The amount of restricting I'm doing has nothing to do with wanting to lose weight. For one thing, it isn't affecting my weight, which has been stable for some time. It is more about controlling my feelings, and keeping the fear at bay, or at least that is my perception. Unfortunately, my perceptions are often of the black and white variety, without the shades of grey in between. I wish I could say that today I will not restrict, because I do know that I hold the choices in my hand. The right choice means sitting with feelings of discomfort. I already feel uncomfortable with my body after eating more food than usual in the past two days. My mind tells me that if I can restrict today, those feelings will go away. I'm still trying to figure out why I allowed myself to let go and eat this weekend. If I can do that for two days, then maybe I can do it everyday. I wonder when all of this ambivalence will disappear. When will I want more than anything to let it all go? I do know that the answer resides within, and that I'm searching everywhere but inside of myself because I'm afraid of what I might find. I'm afraid that maybe I do not deserve freedom. The unknown is a frightening place.

Fumbling Towards Ecstacy

I love this song, and the lyrics really speak to me at this point in my life. Enjoy!

All the fear has left me now
I’m not frightened anymore
It’s my heart that pounds beneath my flesh
It’s my mouth that pushes out this breath

And if I shed a tear I won’t cage it
I won’t fear love
And if I feel a rage I won’t deny it
I won’t fear love

Companion to our demons
They will dance, and we will play
With chairs, candles, and cloth
Making darkness in the day
It will be easy to look in or out
Upstream or down without a thought

And if I shed a tear I won’t cage it
I won’t fear love
And if I feel a rage I won’t deny it
I won’t fear love

Peace in the struggle
To find peace
Comfort on the way
To comfort

And if I shed a tear I won’t cage it
I won’t fear love
And if I feel a rage I won’t deny it
I won’t fear love
I won’t fear love
I won’t fear love...

Looking Fear In The Face

Even the plastered on smile that I usually wear falters during these grey winter days, and I find myself moving as if I were in a foggy dream. I often feel like I'm a voyeur in my own life...an audience of one. My therapist calls this depersonalization, or when you feel like you are watching yourself going through the day to day motions without feeling a connection to yourself. She also says that rape survivors will report that they did this during their attack, and that is definitely what I did. It is an effective way to not feel, and I tend to pull out all of my tricks. One night last week, I woke up and thought that someone was in our bedroom, and instead of waking up my husband, I lay there in a frozen state, unable to move or make a sound, watching from somewhere outside of myself. I felt stupid once I realized it was my imagination, but I also realized that my shame about the rape comes from the fact that in my fear, I was rendered powerless, and that somehow in my mind, I let it happen. I know that I was a child, yes, I know all of this, but even as an adult, I'm out of control in the face of fear, and reigning in my emotions gives me some sense of power. Restricting my food also gives me a sense of power, and I'm beginning to see that I need to let go of the fear that is paralyzing me. Why does the first step always have to be so difficult? "Do the thing you think you cannot do!"

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us."
~Marianne Williamson

Fear Or Freedom?

Every once in awhile someone, usually my therapist, but not always, will touch upon something so deep and painful that I literally stop breathing. That happened to me yesterday, and it felt like fear and freedom at the same time. Unfortunately, the fear took over, I stuffed every emotion that I was feeling back down, and now I feel close to overflowing. I love how this translates into a reason not to eat, because I'm just too full, so needless to say, food didn't go so well yesterday. Sarcasm doesn't even begin to mask the frustration that I was feeling, and I often wonder when I will get out of my own way. Today has been better though. I have a friend at work that I've really been able to talk to about things that I usually don't feel comfortable sharing, and it has helped me more than they probably realize. I'm also starting to feel more safe eating in the classroom thanks to them. I'm less and less afraid each time that I do it. One of the hardest parts of lunch for me is actually fixing myself something to take. It has something to do with self care, and feeling like I deserve to be taken care of and nurtured. I tend to put my needs last, so that is what I NEED to work on. Tonight I'm going to pack myself a sandwhich for tomorrow, which is something that my nutritionist has been encouraging me to do for some time now. In fact, I'm going to end this post right now, so that I can go do that:)

Here Comes The Sun

Off and on today, the sun has been pushing it's way through the thick cloud cover. That is a bit like how my life feels right now. I see and feel glimpses of the warm sun peeking through the darkness, and I have hope.

I had an appointment with my psychiatrist this afternoon. It went really well. I'm feeling less depressed and anxious, so she is lowering the Abilify because it makes me restless and fidgety. I hope that will be okay, since other than those side affects, my mood has been more positive. Today is also the official start of spring break. I have ten blissful days off, although I don't have any big plans. I'm going to spring clean, and hopefully plant some pansies in my window boxes if the weather warms up.
I saw my therapist on Wednesday, and my nutritionist yesterday. They were good sessions, but not much new to report. I'm just working on the same old issues. My nutritionist wants to increase my food intake, but I'm not ready. I'm so comfortable where I am, and my weight is stable. I know that I'm too dependent on only drinking my breakfast and lunch most of the time. I still have a difficult time eating in front of other people. I'm doing better at staying present at dinnertime though. My nutritionist asked me if there was a time that I remember enjoying food, and really, no, I don't. Food and fear have gone hand in hand for such a long time. I like certain foods, but to sit down and actually enjoy it seems foreign to me. Staying present for me means not spacing off while I'm eating, and also not standing up while I eat. At dinnertime, I try to focus on my husband, and that helps some. I know that so often he feels like he doesn't help me, or that I don't give him the chance to help me. Admitting that I need people is not one of my strengths, but I'm trying. I think it is especially hard with my therapist. Last week I didn't have my session, and I really missed her, but also felt very uncomfortable with those feelings. She reassured me that my feelings were normal. She expressed to me that she also missed seeing me, so that made me feel like at least it isn't one sided. I need to know that people care about me, but then again, who doesn't? The thought of being needy really bothers me. I don't want to depend too much upon other people because I'm afraid that I will lose them. Sometimes the pain of that seems unbearable, so I try to protect myself by going numb, and not letting anyone get too close. It isn't a fun way to live life though, so I'm working harder at staying connected to those I love.
Well, that is all for now. I don't know how much I will blog over the week, but I do feel some poetry coming on, so look forward to that!:-)

What If

I don't know why I have this compulsive need to go back to the scene of the crime. In my mind, I see the bedroom, with the mattress on the floor. The freshly painted walls were windowless, and bare. I have the childish thought that maybe if I return to the beginning, I can somehow change what happened. The beginning and ending are what I remember the most, and even now, the memories make me cover my hands over my eyes, although eventually, I'm compelled to look. Over and over again, I do this to myself. I play the "what if" game. What if I had screamed or put up more of a fight. I still feel such shame that I didn't fight back. I just let them do what they wanted to me. I have nightmares where I'm frozen with fear, and suffocating to death. At a certain point, I became numb to the pain and lost inside the eerie silence of my own mind. I look back, and there are fragments of memories that don't fit anywhere. I wonder why I keep taking it out and dissecting the whole thing. I want it all to fit into a nice, compact little compartment, with all of the pieces intact, and in order, and then, I think, maybe I will be able to put it away.

Fill In The Blanks

I sit in the basement of the same church where my children attended preschool, sipping a spiced pumpkin latte', and contemplating the idea of pulling my knitting out of my purse. I need something to focus on besides my nervous attempt to avoid eye contact with the other women in the room. All that I can hear is the sound of my pulse throbbing in my ears. Women stand up to share their stories, but their voices are background noise, competing with my heart. My knitting sits in my lap, needles poised and unmoving. My eyes focus on the stillness of my fingers until they become unrecognizable as my own, and this is when I disconnect. When I'm uncomfortable or afraid, that is what I do. I separate myself from the fear, filling the space that exists with emptiness. My life is riddled with holes. The frayed memories, torn and faded, haphazardly patched and sewn. I find myself behind the wheel of my car, wondering in what direction I should go, because I'm painfully aware that I don't want to go home. Home means answering questions of which I have no answers. "The meeting was fine," I say.

I'm used to filling in the blanks.

Going To The Pool

I'm sitting here right now in a new bathing suit that I just bought this afternoon. We are going to a pool party later on, and I thought that it was about time that I try to get through the fear of trying on bathing suits. I actually just saw one on the rack, brought it home, and thank God, it fit! I also bought a cover up just in case I'm not brave enough to show the suit. I'm just going to take it slow because I'm definitely not comfortable with my body. I do feel comfortable with the people that I'm going to be around though, and that really helps. When I look back to January and think about the total breakdown that I had over my weight gain, it feels good to see how far that I've already come. Slowly, I'm breaking down the walls that have held me back for so long, and I'm beginning to realize that I'm making my way through this. More than any other time, I feel determined to recover.

Clarity

There are moments of clarity when I realize that I will no longer be able to hide behind my own self destruction. I will have to give it all up to be able to move on, and that scares the hell out of me. What is on the other side, I do not know, and the unknown is always frightening. I see a glimpse of my shadow reaching towards the light, and I recoil, afraid to be burned. There is the coolness of a gentle kiss on my forehead, the touch of a hand that finds it's way into the dark of my heart, and I do believe for that moment, that I will find my way.

Guilt and Fear

Dave and I just returned from our couples session. It always helps to say things that we are too afraid to say to each other when we are alone. We talked about how we both try to protect one another. I don't want him to know how afraid I am to lose him because I'm scared that it will burden him, and he does the same for me. All that does is fuel the fear though, so we need to learn how to communicate those feelings. We also talked about my recent purging behavior. I feel so much guilt over so many things, especially my suicide attempt. I also feel guilty over the fact that sometimes I still don't want to be here. I'm so full of feelings, and that is where the purging comes in. That empty feeling after purging is such a relief, at least for a little while. I feel so unworthy, and like I am a bad person, and at times those feelings overwhelm me. There is nothing that anyone can say to change those feelings. I know that it is something that I will have to discover within myself. I have to find the strength and courage to feel the fear and free myself.

A New Decision

Life can be so strange and ironic at times. I just finished a poem about the decision that I had made not to get back in contact with my dad, and the next day, my aunt calls, pleading with me to write or call him. She tells me that he has really turned his life around, and that he just wants a second chance to have a relationship with me. I already knew that from the letter that he sent me, but I wasn't so sure that he had changed. I feel like hearing that should make me want to change my mind, but for some reason, it just doesn't, and I wonder if that makes me a bad person. Why am I so unforgiving? My aunt also told me that my cousin will be getting married in November, and she wants all of us to come to the wedding. I would like to go, but that would mean seeing my dad. I don't know what to do anymore. I feel like I should try, but something is holding me back from writing or calling him, and I'm not quite sure what it is.

You know...that is not true. I think that I do know what it is. It is my own fear of anger, and being able to express it towards him. Anytime that he hurt me, I always said that it was okay. I was always looking out for his feelings. He always had an excuse for his behavior, and I always let him off the hook. I'm running away from my own anger. Maybe I at least need to tell him how much pain his neglect caused me, and how his neglect was the reason that I was raped while I was in his care. He needs to know this, and I have avoided telling him because I'm always trying to protect his feelings, and even that makes me angry. I always protected his feelings because I was afraid that if I didn't, he would go away, but it didn't matter, because he went away anyway. I think that I will write these things in a letter to him, and just see where that takes us. Blogging is so good for figuring things out sometimes:)

Stage Fright

Stage Fright

I don't know the answers
I don't know my lines
I can't hear the music
I can't find the time
The dancers are shoeless
The mime turns to speak
Stage left and stage right
behind the curtain they creep

Abandoned, alone
in the glare of the lights
All eyes are on you
It's your opening night
Blindly, you see
beyond the back row
of darkness
The echo of laughter
A single shadow of fright

Angela Minard 2009©