Image for the poem Music, is better than going to therapy…

Music, is better than going to therapy…

A heart is fragile & vulnerable yet fiercely assertive as it craves to be held in soft gentle hands, whilst being nourished accordingly.

To hold one’s heart, and know how to handle the vulnerability that comes with ones fragility irrespective of gender, is a testament to the power of love, understanding, trust patience and kindness.

Rare, are the ones that know what their heart is for, whilst potentially sacrificing them self in search of the solace that comes with a bond that nourishes & heals.

There’s always an imminent risk of heartbreak, however we embrace the thrills that emerge whilst navigating the perimeters of a lover and noting the boundaries to ensure a healthy bond can flourish accordingly.

Damn. It’s 5am and I’m on the cusp of checking out of this place, post delivering another presentation to a cohort of CEOs before returning to the workplace, later this afternoon.

Though, I may work from home in the afternoon as opposed to going into the office building.

I know that I’ve developed a smidgen of social anxiety during the lockdown as I couldn't wait to leave the black tie formal dinner proceedings last night whilst holding back the tears that eventually flowed.

A primary symptom of the 18-20 week COVID lockdown, no doubt.

On another note, I can’t possibly think that I’ll ever be OK with competing for one’s affections as I don’t have the motivation pertaining to the reserve energy that that entails, and the squandering of time to do so in between the existing workload, and bouts of suicide watch for an adolescent child (16) who’s doing better than 12 months ago.

No one prepares you for parenting, let alone parenting an adolescent child living with a number of complexities, including complex PTSD from childhood trauma.

I never knew carers fatigue was a thing until I became the poster girl for such with unpredictable moments that consist of shedding tears at the hint of a memory, or a song, or an aroma that triggers the memory centre pertaining to people I need to see and hear but have moved on from this earthly plane.

As much as I’m a people person, I’m trying to flip the script whilst battling with the post lockdown readjustments, and working through the people issues associated with a fluid but unpredictable workforce that report into me.

The blinding bright lights on a stage, whilst presenting content to a hundred or so people is enough to make me cry these days.

Right now, I’m in the midst of an internal debate about running a nice hot bubble bath, and soaking for a while, or going for a run through the golf course on the resort as soon as day breaks, in an hour or so.

My reflection upon the splash-back over the bath conceals the perplexed facial expression that seems to have emerged as a result of sleep deprivation.

A vibe triggering an intense orgasm isn’t able to fix the depth of the wild love affair I’ve been having with insomnia for the past two decades, and the unnecessary rumination that comes with such.

Hmm. Yeah, I’m one of those girls…
Written by shadow_starzzz
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