have a little love and understanding

i grew up with grumpy, moody people.
i am drawn to those types in my grown up life.
i always have lots of them around.
i don’t always like it.
but we fit.
i understand the conversation, or lack of one.

my mom popped alot of pills when i was a kid, because of her illnesses.
not a street drug addict,
but somethin’… just sayin’.
i am drawn to addicts and alcoholics.
(these days i prefer the sober ones)
i’m at home when they keep me a little off-balance.
(sober ones too.)
i know the dance.
i try to get them to mother me, by mothering them.
it’s what i know to do.
and i’m good at it.
we fit.

i was fat when i was a kid.
i get vigilantly concerned when any of my off-spring, rounds out a bit.
scared that they might be me.
i imagine, what they might feel like.
assume, it’s what i felt like.
and then i act out.
i watch. i monitor. i worry.
has nothing to do with them.
it’s all about me.

it’s comforting.
its familiar.
its obsessive.
its nuts.

sometimes i complain about my place in all this.
the company i keep.
the struggles of others i am forced to endure.
the insanity of someone doing that “insane thing” one more time.
really gets under my skin.

forgetting, these are my lessons.
my healing.
a choice.

forgetting that the imperfect scenario or broken bird is exactly right.
and what i called forth.
(as my friend Belle would say)
(i don’t actually say things like that)
so i can do it again.
whatever it is.
and fucking learn from it.

this time, let the grump be grumpy without having to “make things better”.
this time, not take on the moods of the moody and slip down the rabbit hole with them.
this time, not interpret that your bad behavior is a direct result of something i did or didn’t do.
don’t try to get the alcoholic sober, understanding that i don’t know whats best for anybody…period.
just love them anyway.

i do all that shit.
and i will keep doing that shit, until i don’t need to anymore.

when your cloudy day no longer sits on MY chest.
when i can sleep even though YOU are in a precarious place.
when you can have it.
all to yourself.
and can fuck yourself up any way you damn well please without sweat on my brow.

when i can let you go.

i think i might like that.
this kind of neurosis has been my jag for a very long time.
i think i’m tired of blowing in your wind.

for today, i will keep the focus on myself