I have a little news I want to share, which I will do toward the end of this post. You can read everything or you can just scroll down to the bottom, whichever suits your fancy.
I have so much love and admiration for those artists who can see themselves doing nothing but the things that they know. I have even more admiration for the artists who actually make a living doing what they do best: making art. Whether it is physical art like painting, sculpting, or designing, or a more intellectual one like writing stories or producing music, it is hard as hell to make a living doing that.
I remember driving down the highway one day and the word gramercy was stuck in my head. I don’t remember exactly where I was, just that I was somewhere in the Northeast United States. I don’t know what triggered the thought. Maybe I saw a sign somewhere with the word on it. I wasn’t sure if it even was a word or how it was spelled until I looked it up. Was it “grammercy” or something else? Thanks to the internet, I learned that it is, indeed, a word. It is an archaic term, but I like old things. In French, it is “grand merci” which translates to “many thanks.” It is also “grand mercy.” I also learned that there are many businesses and residential communities that include “gramercy” or “grammercy” in the name. I’m sure one of those types of places is where I saw the word and internalized it without realizing it.
I was in a place in my life where I was starting over. I still feel like I’m at the beginning, but I know I’ve taken many steps since this particular day. I had left my daughter in the care of my sister while I took a job delivering loads all across the country. I missed my baby dearly, but I had to take the time to put us in a better financial position, and that job was the best way for me to do it at the time. I had been through so much by that time. WE had been through so much. I look back over the last few years in amazement at the fact that we survived it. I wrote this little poem to capture some of the emotions I felt once I learned the word was an expression of gratitude. I held onto it because I wasn’t sure if I’d ever know when it was appropriate to share it with anyone other than myself. But today feels right.
Yesterday was my birthday. I am 33 years old. Today is 11/11/22. I’m no expert in numerology, so I really don’t know what any of that means although I do tinker with tarot cards from time to time on my other blog. I just feel that this particular birthday is very significant. So to give honor to myself, not exalting myself above anyone or anything else, but thanking myself for continuing to fight, I wrote this little verse. I pray that whoever reads this is able to find something to be grateful for, as well.
This came to me in a dream/memory. One of my now fondest memories of my mother was from a late night when I asked her to detangle my hair after I had washed it. Usually, she would say no because I have very thick hair and her back and hands weren’t what they used to be. It would quickly become painful for her. I think I was about 28 years old at the time and this took place about a year and a half before my mom went into hospice. I was so grateful that she agreed to comb my hair. I fell asleep in the chair while she stood and gently detangled my coily hair, greased my scalp, and plaited my hair. I’ll never forget it. I’ll never forget her. You only get one mom.I was in a deep slumber when these words woke me up and I had to write them down. I went back to sleep as soon as I had finished writing but couldn’t remember what I had written until I read it again later. I’m just glad it made sense. I miss you, Ruby.
Times are tough sometimes. Mental illness is no joke and I only recently began to seek treatment for mine. I got to a really dark place mentally and this poem was the result.
It is so important to take care of your mental health. It was literally a life and death situation for me, which was why I finally got help. So many people have told me that I am brave for being proactive in seeking treatment for myself. I didn’t feel brave. I still don’t. However, as I piece my life back together once again, I keep moving forward. I take my small victories, even those that others may view as insignificant. I’ll live.
For the first time in several years, I got up in front of an audience and read some of my poetry. I have to admit, it felt good and made me think about what more I could be doing with my poetry. Life gets in the way of dreams sometimes, but this blog gives me a chance to express myself and share my art. Here’s the video of one of my poems Pain Killer. I hope you enjoy it.
Pulling away from what weighed me down and pushing up into a new way of
Thinking.
What I loved purposely left me weeping,
Tenderized
Pulverized heart,
But still a heart still worth keeping.
And it beats stronger… while the heaviness withers away and I shrink, I think, “How great it is to be thinner from ‘wait’ loss, patiently hoping for better days, and stronger from the discomfort of willing myself more life.”
Life in a Few Words 