Sunday Confessionals : Hello

Dear Heart,

When we first met my life was in transition but instead of changing I just went on pretending that I was a mountain. High and mighty. Immovable. Distant. Jagged and worn. I can endure just about anything. That is my superpower. I should have been fighting to save myself but instead I just went right on living the same way even though the life I was living had ceased to exist. It took me quite a long time to realize that the only home I have and perhaps ever well have is my own body. Wherever my body goes I follow. 

Knowing you has changed me, profoundly. We’ve gone on adventures together. We’ve played like children in the park. We’ve had firsts. You are the first man to take me on a snowmobile, to take me kick sledding, to let me drive a tractor etc. You invited me into your home. Into your family. You brought me with you to Norway. Sometimes you do not even deny that we are a couple. My emotions have more layers now. My personality is bolder and more nuanced. I have found reserves of courage and energy I did not know myself to possess. I have never known such depths of anger, joy, love, disappointment, despair, gratitude, surrender, freedom.

The hardest thing about all these new feelings to accept is that I am the one feeling them. I am the one living outside of my skin while you are safe inside yours, beside me but not totally immersed in the experience the way I am. When you look at me you don’t see forever. I am not a potential lover or wife. I am a woman who is accessible, loved, but unnecessary. I am not your ideal, even though you show up again and again on my list. I have no real power over you. It’s incomprehensible to me that no matter how deep your heart goes, your intellect will always be capable of digging it out again. When you do decide to find the right woman, you will go on, you will have a life without me and that life will be enough for you. I will feel your absence with every part of me. Maybe your absence will be the thing which finally breaks me. I think I could let you break me.

I have a lover who will never make love to me. I have a husband who will never marry me. I have a boyfriend who thinks kissing feels too much. I have a partner who searches for me in other people and tells me so. Maybe one day you will find a me, who is not me, and she will be to you what the universe is to a person, everything. 

I am the person you love most in the world. I am every hour of your day. I am a majority of the people in your life. I occupy every role, male and female. Sometimes you even forget that I am not you. When you leave it feels so final, so definite. Then you return again and I am there, full on and critical. Some days you love me with a sincerity and a ferocity which makes the impossible seem possible and I think now he really loves me, now we have surpassed “almost” and “what if”, now we are finally living our lives whole-hearted and then we are half-way all over again and I remember that I am the only person in the world. Everyone else is everyone else. I am only me and I don’t know how to handle a human heart.

Thank you for the almosts,

forever yours, forever mine



I am paper

in the hands of a child.

You touch me


Your eager fingers

smudge my skin

until all that is left

is a window of a woman,

a tragic sliver of white

in an ever darkening room.

I thin beneath

your constant erasure.

What I was

and what I am


and imperfect.

My needs are


my nerves naked,

my heart fuzzy and grey.

I am merely a product

for your amusement.

You do not care,

you only do

that which comes easiest

to you.

As I lie here exposed

I wonder if my pain

is in anyway

a reflection of the artist

or if the artist

is simply thoughtless.

You leave uncertain marks.

Marks which tear

at my insides.

Marks which lie


The stars weep

and you laugh

as I,

crowded and remade

a thousand times,

become a void.

You scribble

in my margins,

your shapeless sentiments,

your waxy, wavering lines


sometimes offensive.

You tear my edges

and crush me

into a ball

with your fist.

I am only a draft.

You will never

carry me to the end.

I will not become

a memory for you.

I am nothing precious.

In me there is only

the notion of a life.

How do you “human”?

What I am about to write to you is deeply personal and also humiliating.

As many of you know, I moved recently. I am currently living with a male friend in the Northern part of Sweden. I had hoped to start a relationship with him. I have tried to start a relationship with him and sometimes it seems as if we are in a relationship already. We’ve been living together for about a month now. We share a bed. We often sleep naked together. We’ve kissed. We’ve done many different sexual things but we have not had penetrative sex. Despite frequent erections and a lot humping (humping he initiates) he does not want to have penetrative sex with me. Despite telling me he loves me and spending hours and hours a day with me and alluding occasionally to marriage he has no romantic interest in me whatsoever. I have never met anyone like this and so it’s been really hard for me to understand that he just doesn’t have “feelings” for me. I still don’t understand. Realistically given all the opportunities and my clearly indicating a desire for sex the fact that we haven’t yet means only one thing: He doesn’t want to have sex with me and if he doesn’t want to under these conditions he’s never going to want it. He’s just not attracted to me. Sometimes he says he is very interested in me (the whole me) and sometimes he expresses that he just doesn’t see me in that way. He loves me but he’s not in love with me. He’s not going to fall in love with me like they do in rom coms. I know that at some point I am going to have to put myself out there and start dating. I am obviously hoping to find a partner who has both sexual and romantic interest in me. I had that in my marriage but it seems impossible that lightning should strike the same person twice. The problem is that for me, given my feelings, I am not able to see him as just a friend and I cannot even fathom the pain of him dating when he finally meets someone. He has been really supportive through a very difficult time in my life and I have been impossible and crazy lately. I don’t want to lose him and the beautiful friendship we’ve created but knowing myself I will just keep setting myself up for rejection again and again. I will just keep hoping. How do I navigate this situation? How do I get my sexual needs met in a way that doesn’t compromise my heart too much? Masturbation just isn’t enough I want that human connection. I also want that emotional connection and a relationship which can evolve and deepen and potentially lead to marriage. There were so many wonderful things about being married about being in a very close relationship with another person. I miss that. Is that wrong?

Love Language

Your heart is a secret,

a whisper in a crowded room,

a breathy lullaby

in a night both deep

and star-infused.

When I asked you

to be my lover

I wanted you to say “Yes!”

but instead you said “I guess…”

I undress you

from the waist up

and climb over

your reclining body

with a trembling smile.

I wonder if I can

seduce you

in the baring of my heart

or if I’ll have to lie.

I want to carry you

like a breath but I am afraid

if I hold you too close

you’ll lose awareness of me.

What’s the difference between

love and ownership,

between the you inside of me

and the you that keeps distance?

If I give you

too much freedom

you will either overtake me

or run away with someone else.

I don’t know if I am

really good enough

to have a man whole.

I could love you an ocean’s worth

but you only measure in percents.

Just once I want you 

to say “You’re Mine.”

even if it’s selfish.

I want you to mean it.

I want my absence to sting.

I want to be the one

you can’t stop talking about.

Love is two people 

split down the middle

like a plum.

A little sour, a little sweet.

You ruin my fantasies

and stir my heart like a fire.

My soul is more blood than air.

I am going to wear my clothes

when we make love

and strip you totally naked

because I want to feel powerful

and mysterious just once,

because if I let myself be

too vulnerable I will

lose myself in us.

Your love presses against me

like a kiss, soft but insistent

If I breathe too deeply

I will drown.

I’ll get desperate.

I’ll become obsessed

and I’ll never know

if a single thing

I feel is reciprocated.

Let me love you.

Let me love you.

Let me love you.

Wordle #249 “preview”

Two days

could be

the difference

between sterility

and an eternity

well spent.

We could live

or we could

sit together

backs turned

plotting out

an exact course.

I want to get lost

with you, in you.

I want firsts not rehearsals,

clumsy conversations

awkward hands,

clothes that break away

like wrapping paper

at Christmas.

Leave out the punctuation,

the mind fuckery,

the lists of possible complications.

For once in your life

fail to be perfect.

I want a celebration

a communion,

a moment with you

which hasn’t been

set in stone,


twisted like a strand of hair

around a school girl’s finger.

Leave your scent,

your fingerprints,

forget everything

but the exclamation.

You are patient.

I am fire.

My freedom

cannot be exchanged

for ambiguity,

for a 100 gallant promises

repeatedly broken.

If you would have me

then you’ve only

to speak the words

loud enough

that I can hear them.

Dear Self

Dear Self,

Even healthy habits can become toxic if done for the wrong reasons. Even healthy habits can become addictions when used to escape from pain/reality/self. Anything truly healthy starts from a place of self-acceptance and self-respect. Do what you love because it matters, because it is honest, because it is an expression of the world you would like to create/inhabit. Success for the sake of success is like swallowing a black hole. It’s heavy. It’s insatiable. It sucks up the light. Start with the heart the rest will follow. Don’t hide from vulnerability, embrace it. Vulnerability is the source of all beauty, of all love. Vulnerability is an art form unto itself. Surrender. Surrender. Surrender.


Hangman's Tree

The night sky

is already a graveyard,

a graveyard on fire,

a graveyard like me.

My nightmares do not dispel 

on waking, they take root.

My body is an iron maiden.

My blood is a wax emblem

tugging closed the pale lips

of a mouth that will never open.

My hands are two doves shattered

by their own reflections.

The more I struggle

the faster it all slips away.

That’s the thing about feelings 

they have to be felt

in order for the heart to open.

Most of the time I feel

too unreal to believe in anything.

Sometimes I crush my feelings

against my spiraling fingertips

and rub out my own

metaphorical constellations

in an attempt to be closer to God

and by God I mean you.

Sometimes I sob breathlessly

into your outstretched heart

as if I were a man riddled with war.

However, protracted the death

I always rise up

with the next intake of breath. 

I am my own legend.

Some weapons are made of blood

and some of the most violent wars

I know take place between

a man and himself 

when no one else is watching.

Thousands of tiny crucifixes,

my fears, burn through my boundaries 

It’s as if my body were made

entirely out of sin.

I write from the inside out.

I write until my fingers burn

and my naked heart chaffs.

I write on the burnt husks

of my exorcised demons

and sometimes I feel

so much that the threads

holding my organs in place

give way altogether.

Surgery and Recovery

So I thought I would write to you about my hysterectomy experience so far. I am going to be honest so it may be uncomfortable for people who don’t like to speak of bodily functions or medical things in general.


Day 1

I had an abdominal hysterectomy on Tuesday early in the morning. Before I went in to hospital I had to shower with this special soap Descutan which I read could cause severe allergic reactions in some people. I was concerned having sensitive skin but luckily I did not have any type of reaction. Bonus I have had no body odor at all since! I am sure it will come back but right now I don’t even need deodorant. I went in at around 7:00 am I was checked in asked to change into my surgical gowns, given some antibiotics, sent to the toilet and then I waited in a room by myself for sometime but I am not sure how long. I was then taken to the operating theater where I met a lot of nurses. Perhaps 4 and an anesthesiologist. The nurses were all extremely kind. They explained what was happening, held my hands, stroked my hair, and made me cry because they were so nice. I cry even now thinking of it because when people are nice it moves me to tears. Am I the only one? Anyways I was scared, mostly it seems that I wouldn’t wake up, that it would be like dying to be put under, of having no control over anything. I have been put under before once at 5 and again at 16 but for some reason that didn’t console me. They gave me meds to help me relax, drug unspecified. The worst part was the epidural because the anesthesiologist could not find the spot so I had to take several shots to the spine and nerve clusters in the middle of which my blood pressure fell to something like 83/38 and I became ill and they had to let lie me down a bit before resuming with the shots. The epidural I received when giving birth was much, much easier. After that I took a few deep breaths in the mask without anesthesia, then with anesthesia. I assume I went out immediately because I don’t remember anything really. I never saw the surgeon but I was told that the surgeon I had met previously did the operation and that one of my doctors was also present.


I woke up with the sense that I had been dreaming but I can’t say what I was dreaming about (Sam/a tree) it may have been the last thought on my mind because one of the nurses told me that if I thought about something nice when I went under I would wake with that same thought and that seemed to be the case. I don’t think they had problems waking me. First things I noticed was pain at the incision site, pain in the throat, thirst, trouble talking. I was easily able to move my legs. My blood pressure was still low and once I started to move a little I got dizzy and nauseous and vomited a couple of times. Nausea with anesthesia is common but even more common if you’ve had a gynecological surgery and if you have low blood pressure on top of it, so I had kind of an unfortunate mix. They did seem surprised that I felt pain exactly at the incision. I must have been in that room for hours and hours because I don’t think I made it to my actual room until like 3 something so my husband was in a panic because that was way longer than projected. I don’t think the surgery took longer I think it was the transitions that took a long time.

I stayed pretty numb that first day so the pain was not horrendous. I mostly felt the pain where they cut was and the rest of my abdomen and body felt just like normal honestly. I was horrible nauseous though. I tried to eat a small dinner, a sandwich, which I later threw up. I had to stay on fluids because I could not even hold water down and could drink so little water at one time that hydration was not possible. Changing from one position to another resulted in a lot of dizziness so they had to keep the catheter in that first day and night. I managed only to stand with assistance initially and my feet felt firm but the blood pressure issue made it really impossible to walk about. That said I did change into night clothes later that evening and I did walk to the bathroom. The nurse was present but outside and did not really explain how I was supposed to navigate the change with the catheter. It never occurred to me to sit down so I balanced on one leg and did all sorts of weird moves in my confusion. She did come in eventually and help but by then I had overcome the most complicated aspect of changing. Remember you can sit down and dress apparently! I usually dress standing.

I had to stay overnight, Sam stayed with me for a while but had to return home to be with Isadora. I could not sleep in the hospital but I was able to rest. At some point I began to itch a lot particularly in the nether area and the nurse brought tablets for that (which helped some) and a shot to thin my blood which she said could either go in the stomach or thigh. I picked the thigh obviously, as it was still numb. I can say morphine didn’t work as a painkiller for me. I still honestly had my knee pain which I always have and was so surprised that I should be able to feel my everyday aches and pains while on such a strong drug. During the night my pain became significantly worse but I decided to wait until morning to ask for painkillers. My right shoulder was also very painful, I am not sure of the cause it almost felt like it had been pulled out of its socket. The pain in my shoulder honestly competed with my stomach pain for a while even. I am not sure if I laid on it incorrectly or if it was positioned poorly in the operation but it is royally jacked up. I can also say the pain on the right side of my incision is much more intense than on the left.

Before I go on if you are planning on having a hysterectomy practice how to get in and out of bed and in and out of a chair a lot beforehand if you suffer coordination issues. I am having a hard time transitioning positions. Apparently I use my abs a lot naturally and it is super hard to unlearn fight against your natural inclinations. Also taking on and off socks is the worse thing ever!


Day 2

My catheter was removed in the morning. I was overjoyed! I was afraid of the catheter (outright phobic) but the numbness, had on the first day, made it only a minor inconvenience in regards to movement. I felt it more the second day but it was not painful. That said taking it out was uncomfortable/creepy. I then had to drink to see if I would be able to urinate. After drinking a few cups of water I got the urge and went to the toilet. I had read it was hard to void your bladder after surgery but I just went there was no trick to it really. I did remain on the toilet longer and adjusted my positions to make sure I had done a good job. I am not sure if I am emptying it as much as before but I seem to be emptying it a reasonable amount each time. I decided to go to the cafeteria for breakfast. I went just as it opened and had to wait sometime. I decided to carry the trey back with me which was maybe not a great idea since I had barely walked at that point but I succeeded. I did manage to eat and hold down food but my appetite is not the same and I can’t eat as much as before. Part of the reason, aside from nausea (which I have now to a lesser degree), is the gas. I have so much gas. The first day my stomach looked fairly normal, the 2nd day it was very bloated (still is). I can pass gas but it’s not easy. Actually that has never been easy for me, my bowels are pretty low functioning to start. Anyhow Sam came again around 8:30 after dropping Izzy off at school. I learned from the nurse that I would likely go home. Shortly after Sam arrived the doctor came in to see us. She told me the surgery went well. They took out the uterus, Fallopian tubes, and the cervix. They did not need to remove the ovaries and they did not see anything inside that looked concerning. They will send my uterus to a lab and I will get results which might explain the menorrhagia we have to wait and see. Later we saw the head nurse who showed Sam how to give me the blood thinner shots (he is not happy about it) and they removed my ports which I had in both arms. I was so happy to go home but Day 2 was a very high pain day. Much worse than Day 1. Very intense. Pain at the incisions, pain in my lower back, pain in the shoulder, pain in my usual spots, PAIN. I stayed up 8:30 but it was a difficult day physically and emotionally.

Day 3

After sleeping in my own bed I feel more rested but I am still pretty tuckered out. My pain has lessened thankfully. I have not taken painkillers yet today because they hurt my stomach so much and I can handle it at this level. My incision hurts when I move from one position to another but not so much when I am still. I have tried to be good about moving but it’s tough because of the fatigue and pain. My favorite exercise has to be mountain pose (I can stretch and assume good posture without force which counters the hunching and fetal sleeping position) and shoulder rolls. I have not been able to take as many steps as I want but I try to take them at least once an hour. We have stairs in the house so I have had to go up and down a few times. My fitbit does not pick up my steps that well because I have to be more cautious and I use the rails when on the stairs so I don’t actually know how many steps I am getting but I wear it because of the hourly reminders to move. The gas is quite bad and causes pain, if I did not have gas I think my stomach would really only hurt at the incision. I feel optimistic that tomorrow I will feel better than today.


Oh yeah I forgot!

I had a slight fever after surgery as is normal but I have absolutely no fever now. I have had some bleeding but not much at all, not nearly what I expected if I am honest. I haven’t experienced any difficulty breathing or taking deep breaths either. I can’t take off the bandage for like 7-10 days so I have no idea what the wound looks like only that on the surface the bandage is perfectly clean. I have dissovable stitches so nothing will need to be removed. No doctor visits either. I will get a questionnaire periodically and only come in if I feel something is wrong.

Wordle #140 “January 30th, 2016”

Week 140.png

My chest tightens, a deadbolt,
a sparrow rearranged in kudoclasm.
The nature of my misgivings
is as deep and voluminous as the story of man.
Who will seek me out
when I wed myself to darkness?

I slip into the periphery.
Electrified and abridged,
I bare my teeth at the sight
of your upturned heels.
There is no mercy to be found
between tricksters and thieves.
Who will bare my pain
when I fall absent?

Shafts of sunlight break over my naked heart.
I dream of aberrations, of waiting in silence
for possibilities that never fully appear.
Who will hear my screams
when they catch at the corners of my eyes?

I somaticize the intellectual,
the proverbial scraps
of a limitless unknown.
The promise of anything
less than absolute
does not diminish my grip.
Who will love me
in the wake of exposure?