FIRST BLOG TITLE... HMMM OKAY....
I TAKE A LITTLE GETTING USED TO, GIVE ME A 30 DAY TRIAL AND I WILL REFUND YOUR READING TIME AND HAVE IT ERASED FROM YOUR MEMORY (TO0 LONG?..YEA)
The poem I am posting here, also the name of my blogspot, was started when I was twenty three. The relevance is multifaceted. When I wrote She Carried Dolls, it was the first time I wrote a poem where something in me connected with an unknown element all writers understand but ironically many writers have a difficult time describing. It is basically the connection any artist feels when the art is about more than it says. As a twenty three year old, this poem did something magically for me. I suddenly "felt" it as opposed to "understood" it. For many years prior I had crafted quite suitable and impressive rhymes which amounted to little or no meaning, at least not for me. And that does not leave the artist inside of me fulfilled.
As a matter of fact, poetry isn't exactly my favorite form of writing. I have written plays and short stories.I have had one play performed. And it was an awesome experience. Poetry is like an exercise for me. I would love to try to write a film. But my very favorite is form of writing is playwriting. Likely because I was raised around theatre arts and was in my first play by the time I was six.
However, I decided to name my blog after this poem and post this poem in my first blog. Being a writer, how could I resist tweaking it a bit. I mean, eeeekkkkkk! However I kept it very close to its original form. I added phrase related to current day culture and removed some phrases that dated the poem (and basically made no sense).
When I read it now and reflect on the title and the theme I believe it is perfect for my blog. I did not originally mean for this poem to be representative of me in any way. Hell, at twenty three, we are hardly carrying around the weight of humanity on our shoulders.
As a matter of fact, at twenty three I was very self focused and dramatic in my view of the world. I had already been through a lot of pretty brutal shit for a young one. And I would go through many years of blaming the the significant and complex trauma of childhood on every poor choice I made, before I finally, and somewhat harshly, had to grow up.
I intend for this blog to be about my journey. I am certain I will post some creative writing. However, my experiences are very vast. I am more interested in writing to offer help or suggestions to others. I have learned when I give anything, I feel good about myself. It will not be about one topic. I could not do that. All the experiences I have in my life overlap and intermingle with others, as this is how life works, in my view.
In my lifetime I have experienced trauma, joy, grief, professional success as a psychiatric crisis clinician, an addictions and trauma counselor, an advocate for wellness for individuals in any state of mental health recovery. I have been diagnosed with a chronic illness, Lupus, which I struggle with daily,today is not such a great day (in case you are wondering). I have not yet been able to successfully return to work for longer than eight months and am currently on permanent disability. I would like for that to change. I have hope. I have experienced the sudden death of the love of my life. This was almost five years ago and I have come to understand more about grief than I would like. I have been in unhealthy relationships and I have made many mistakes. I have been through addiction and am currently in recovery with almost three and a half years sober. I started my journey into recovery in the year 2007. I will certainly talk about this topic. I hurt many people and I am responsible for every harm I caused, despite the fact that addiction is a terrible awful disease. I am still responsible for the harms I caused and who I became during those years.
I raised three children who are now adults,(along with their fathers-yes two fathers) one of my children happens to be in mental health recovery and is also starting school to be in the field of counseling, one of them a member of the LGBTQA community, and the other well, he's the boy! No, that was a joke, he IS the boy, but he is actually anything but a typical, traditional boy, which is amazing.
I am a writer, actor, photographer, and sometimes I actually really do these things. I am serious.
I am a new Grandmother, with the unique and bitter sweet (but more sweet) experience of having my grandchild be legally adopted by my sister, as my daughter was 17 when he was born. She is now ready to go to college and my grandson will be one next month. This is yet another topic I never would have imagined I would have experience with. And I am referring to the an open adoption within the family.
I have less money than I have ever had, I have less material things than I have ever had, my health is not so great, I don't currently work and I live with family. But I am at more peace and happier than I have ever been in my life. This says a lot about learning from those I admire. By myself I don't know much. But what I have learned through my experiences with the world and interactions with others has helped me find gratitude.
I am also very spiritual. I believe strongly in a creator of some kind and I can not explain the details because it is about faith. Many people have a very hard time with the idea that I believe very much in a creator, yet I do not believe in any organized religion, I also believe in science and evolution. I believe religion is man made but this does not shake my faith in a creator or God. I pray and all that crazy, wild stuff too. It is a personal thing. And an inside job. I believe compassion and kindness are all I need to do to in life to be of service to my spiritual creator. I don't need to bother with what anyone else believes or doesn't, no one does.
I finally believe there is so much I have to offer. I started out in this world dealt a bit of a poor hand, not the worst, but not exactly so great. And I believe it was meant to be. I realize now, despite everything I will share in this blog, I would not change anything. As much as I am tempted to wish I could go back and make things different. I have strong faith in the cliche that I am meant to be where I am today by way of how I got here for a purpose I may someday understand.
I do hope people will read my blog. After this first blog, which was a very broad stroke of a half a century of experiences, I plan to write about specific topics related issues.
Trust me, I have some things to say.
She Carried Dolls ( first draft was written some time in the late 1980s)
She carried dolls with crystal faces etched through rivers of blood.
She carried dolls who stood in the yellow grains of Deep South
She tried to run sometimes
She carries them still
And so this poem was a turning point. I am now about to be fifty. This poem is pretty simple and straightforward compared to my typical writing styles. And it is certainly no great gem. But there is something to historical perspective and the context within my lifetime. It feels appropriate.
I am an old bitch now.
but first
here is the first poem I ever wrote... they get better after this.
I TAKE A LITTLE GETTING USED TO, GIVE ME A 30 DAY TRIAL AND I WILL REFUND YOUR READING TIME AND HAVE IT ERASED FROM YOUR MEMORY (TO0 LONG?..YEA)
The poem I am posting here, also the name of my blogspot, was started when I was twenty three. The relevance is multifaceted. When I wrote She Carried Dolls, it was the first time I wrote a poem where something in me connected with an unknown element all writers understand but ironically many writers have a difficult time describing. It is basically the connection any artist feels when the art is about more than it says. As a twenty three year old, this poem did something magically for me. I suddenly "felt" it as opposed to "understood" it. For many years prior I had crafted quite suitable and impressive rhymes which amounted to little or no meaning, at least not for me. And that does not leave the artist inside of me fulfilled.
As a matter of fact, poetry isn't exactly my favorite form of writing. I have written plays and short stories.I have had one play performed. And it was an awesome experience. Poetry is like an exercise for me. I would love to try to write a film. But my very favorite is form of writing is playwriting. Likely because I was raised around theatre arts and was in my first play by the time I was six.
However, I decided to name my blog after this poem and post this poem in my first blog. Being a writer, how could I resist tweaking it a bit. I mean, eeeekkkkkk! However I kept it very close to its original form. I added phrase related to current day culture and removed some phrases that dated the poem (and basically made no sense).
When I read it now and reflect on the title and the theme I believe it is perfect for my blog. I did not originally mean for this poem to be representative of me in any way. Hell, at twenty three, we are hardly carrying around the weight of humanity on our shoulders.
As a matter of fact, at twenty three I was very self focused and dramatic in my view of the world. I had already been through a lot of pretty brutal shit for a young one. And I would go through many years of blaming the the significant and complex trauma of childhood on every poor choice I made, before I finally, and somewhat harshly, had to grow up.
I intend for this blog to be about my journey. I am certain I will post some creative writing. However, my experiences are very vast. I am more interested in writing to offer help or suggestions to others. I have learned when I give anything, I feel good about myself. It will not be about one topic. I could not do that. All the experiences I have in my life overlap and intermingle with others, as this is how life works, in my view.
In my lifetime I have experienced trauma, joy, grief, professional success as a psychiatric crisis clinician, an addictions and trauma counselor, an advocate for wellness for individuals in any state of mental health recovery. I have been diagnosed with a chronic illness, Lupus, which I struggle with daily,today is not such a great day (in case you are wondering). I have not yet been able to successfully return to work for longer than eight months and am currently on permanent disability. I would like for that to change. I have hope. I have experienced the sudden death of the love of my life. This was almost five years ago and I have come to understand more about grief than I would like. I have been in unhealthy relationships and I have made many mistakes. I have been through addiction and am currently in recovery with almost three and a half years sober. I started my journey into recovery in the year 2007. I will certainly talk about this topic. I hurt many people and I am responsible for every harm I caused, despite the fact that addiction is a terrible awful disease. I am still responsible for the harms I caused and who I became during those years.
I raised three children who are now adults,(along with their fathers-yes two fathers) one of my children happens to be in mental health recovery and is also starting school to be in the field of counseling, one of them a member of the LGBTQA community, and the other well, he's the boy! No, that was a joke, he IS the boy, but he is actually anything but a typical, traditional boy, which is amazing.
I am a writer, actor, photographer, and sometimes I actually really do these things. I am serious.
I am a new Grandmother, with the unique and bitter sweet (but more sweet) experience of having my grandchild be legally adopted by my sister, as my daughter was 17 when he was born. She is now ready to go to college and my grandson will be one next month. This is yet another topic I never would have imagined I would have experience with. And I am referring to the an open adoption within the family.
I have less money than I have ever had, I have less material things than I have ever had, my health is not so great, I don't currently work and I live with family. But I am at more peace and happier than I have ever been in my life. This says a lot about learning from those I admire. By myself I don't know much. But what I have learned through my experiences with the world and interactions with others has helped me find gratitude.
I am also very spiritual. I believe strongly in a creator of some kind and I can not explain the details because it is about faith. Many people have a very hard time with the idea that I believe very much in a creator, yet I do not believe in any organized religion, I also believe in science and evolution. I believe religion is man made but this does not shake my faith in a creator or God. I pray and all that crazy, wild stuff too. It is a personal thing. And an inside job. I believe compassion and kindness are all I need to do to in life to be of service to my spiritual creator. I don't need to bother with what anyone else believes or doesn't, no one does.
I finally believe there is so much I have to offer. I started out in this world dealt a bit of a poor hand, not the worst, but not exactly so great. And I believe it was meant to be. I realize now, despite everything I will share in this blog, I would not change anything. As much as I am tempted to wish I could go back and make things different. I have strong faith in the cliche that I am meant to be where I am today by way of how I got here for a purpose I may someday understand.
I do hope people will read my blog. After this first blog, which was a very broad stroke of a half a century of experiences, I plan to write about specific topics related issues.
Trust me, I have some things to say.
She Carried Dolls ( first draft was written some time in the late 1980s)
She carried dolls with crystal faces etched through rivers of blood.
She carried dolls who stood in the yellow grains of Deep South
She tried to run sometimes
She carries them still
And so this poem was a turning point. I am now about to be fifty. This poem is pretty simple and straightforward compared to my typical writing styles. And it is certainly no great gem. But there is something to historical perspective and the context within my lifetime. It feels appropriate.
I am an old bitch now.
but first
here is the first poem I ever wrote... they get better after this.
She carried
dolls
She carried
dolls, her dolls were soft, with no fear
their small , cylindrical
hearts, beating to the sound of humanity's music.
She carried
dolls who spoke of hope, respect, deceit
She carried
white dolls, she carried black dolls, she carried dolls with cowardly
white hoods burning
crosses in deep southern woods of darkened night
She carried
dolls locked in chains, dolls trapped in cages
dolls crawling
inside a den of emptiness, living within the claustrophobic
inequitable
footprint of poverty
She carried
dolls to school with her,
where they would
beat her until she could read
She carried
dolls home where they would starve her until she would sleep
She carried
dolls who raised the flame of discipline and forced the
hand of prayer
Forced to endure
the endless self-proclaimed majestic rule of the
white man
She carried
dolls who slipped large hands between tiny
untouched legs holding
back shameful tears belonging to
someone once
trusted
She carried
dolls who threw blazing stones of fire
at men
loving men, women loving women,
the tarnished, broken ones, nurtured only by the poison of hate
She carried
dolls who shot at beautiful creatures, gifting them
with an early
death, so they may forever be mounted or lay as
floor décor
somewhere upon the red man’s stolen nature
She carried
dolls who screamed drunken
obscenities at
sports teams on big screen
televisions sets
and then beat their kids for
fighting and
cursing at school.
She carried
dolls who came to her late at night to
comfort her,
telling her “All lives matter” and then raping her
without mercy In
her distant dying world
She carried dolls she hated
she carried
dolls she feared,
mostly, she carried dolls she could not
mostly, she carried dolls she could not
stand to look
at;
but, the dolls
always followed
her home
today, they will not
go, they will not
forgive,
for they are who
we pretend not to
be anymore
unlike us
her dolls cannot lie
and they will be with her
until she one day dies
-Christine
Sutton
#writing #mentalhealth #lupus #poetry #grief #recovery #adoption #trauma #pflag #peersupport #writing #acting
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