There’s this space in my chest

that fills me. 

Existing heavily and thoroughly.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep 

making me crazy. 

My body existing around the abyss,

paradoxically consumed by its essence.

Inside of me but not of me. 

Of me, but my dreams are not part of the recipe.

My dreams absorbed or worn like skin, but just the beginnings survive. 

The ends may yet live in the blackness or just beyond it.

Inside of my hollow chest is weighted nothingness. 

Or inside of the hollow nothingness, I exist? 

How can one know if in the abyss? 

I’ve never known how to point to something

that was formless. 

I cannot wait to breath, yet all I do is wait for the next inhale. 

I want silence, but everything screams it’s presence. 

I want love but would settle for contempt.

I want peace but would settle for adrenaline. 

I want meaning but would settle for the end of it. 

Spitting bars about the end of it.

Whispering I just want a friend in it.


Made to Win

I cleaned my apartment today. It has been weeks since I really cleaned and organized my place. The clearest indication that I have been depressed is that my vehicle and house are unkempt.

As I organized my way out of the misery that I’ve allowed to take hold of my life recently, I stopped to appreciate the separate piles of books, clothes, mail, and trash that littered my living-room floor. Curious how my home looked worse than before I had started cleaning. And yet, I felt peaceful as I organized and worked through the piles I had created – deciding between what no longer served me.

It struck me as a metaphor for my life. During transition, my life always seems messier. On my way to better, I feel overwhelmed…periodically suffocated by chaos and growing pains. I think that must be the way God works…the place we grow is in the transition. We find peace not at the end of the tunnel, but in the middle where it is dark.

I’ve been forced to evolve and fight for myself over and over again in my life, but more so in the last two years. I’ve divorced, changed jobs and pay grades, moved to my own place, had my heart broken, gained and lost friendships, made mistakes, forgot and then remembered my self-worth, and felt like I was winning and dieing in the same week more than once in the last two years.

Today I unpacked boxes that have been sitting in my livingroom since I moved in this past July. Maybe it is just today, but I feel like it is finally okay to allow myself this win. I’ve made it farther than statics allow. I’m a single mom of a special needs child, with an unfinished college degree, divorced, who struggles with depression and anxiety. Society would have me collecting foodstamps and living on my parent’s couch. Yet, here I am, feeling some peace – however shortlived it will be – in the midst of the tunnel. I will not wait until my life is perfect to feel free. I will not wait until I have the savings I aspire, or the work schedule that I wish for, to feel accomplished. I have been blessed with perseverance. I was born a fighter because God knew my life was gonna hit back.

Anyway, I hope you take a moment to feel the power in your struggles, to feel the strength in your feet as you get up one more time, the peace in knowing that happy is not contingent on life circumstances. The courage in knowing that you were made to win.