i am born over and over

i am born over and over, struggling each time

fearful of, yet wanting the light with all my being. to
feel so drawn yet so repelled at the same time by something
is a terrible way to live.

so, denise. here you can pretend to be alone. here are only
the echoes of your own words, for you let no one in. here
you wander memories and get lost in the words of songs you've
sung, trace your memory's fingertips over the long-gone skin of
past lovers and hold tight the shadows of children you've borne.

you want to know what that's like? lately i'm in the grip of a most
overwhelming sense of unreality. as if any second i will wake up
and return to being the person i always was in Michigan. i watch myself
work, watch myself type, watch myself clean my house and get so
impatient. WAKE UP! i shout inside, but still i dream, still i feel asleep.

there is no promise of a "love that will save" me in the future. i have
closed myself off from that both physically and emotionally. i want
what i had. it's as simple as that. i want all those wonderful moments
with Bruce, with Bill, with Glenn, the only three men i've ever let anywhere
close to seeing the real human being i am.

and not a one of them wants anything to do with me ever again.

so this time i am being born as a single entity. alone. and sometimes i
don't think i can do it. like when i was delivering Jason and i told
Bruce and Dr. Yerian, "i'm done now, i don't want a baby. i'm going home.
this is TOO HARD!" screaming the last words at the top of my
lungs while the baby takes over and pushes its way out of me
without my consent. outside of myself, watching. and i would take
my own hand if i could. would reach out and hold myself, comfort
myself. but i'm so far away from myself, too far away to do anything
to effectively help during the struggle.

one of these times the struggle will be too great and i will be lost.
i see dead people all the time, it's common when you're a nurse.
the spark goes out and there is just this shell that lies there,
unable to do a single thing for itself, without feeling or sense or
emotion. just a thing. and someday that will be me.

please, not yet. cause i'm going to wake up soon and i'm going to
find myself in the middle of my life. maybe i'll be laughing or touching
or holding someone, something and i will realize that even the bad
was a part of me and something to cherish.

all i ever wanted was more than i had, but i never realized that all
that i ever wanted was exactly what i had at the moment i had it.

and isn't that one of the saddest things you've ever had to face
in the middle of a long night?

denise