You get to Choose
            yes Or no,
          with No pressure
              or Strings attached--the end.
                   Either choice is fine,
           and No one else can choose it for you--
                  This is what consent means, my friend.

In the notebook

 In a land of codependence,
   we've got blurry lines and creeping
   fingers in each other's feelings,
   trying to pull each other's strings--
the language of relating is control.

 Let's find interdependence land:
   we'll make consent our highest guide,
   each mind entitled to decide,
   separate, equal, side by side--
with mutual wellbeing as the goal.

In the notebook

Reach for what you need 
like a seedling toward the sun.
You’ve left the dark behind.
Keep rising, little one.

In the notebook

I feel like I’ve spent my whole life tiptoeing around family members’ rejection sensitivity. I’ve watched my partner do the same with his parents.

We exhaust ourselves and make weird decisions because we are trying so hard to keep them from feeling rejected.

But other people’s sensitivity to feeling rejected is not our responsibility to manage.

That’s what I’m trying to learn.

Your thin skin, so rejection-prone,
   is not actually my own
emergency to manage.
   I cannot heal your damage,
and I only harm me
   by trying to be your sunscreen.

Stay safe in this heat, everyone!

In the notebook

I’m already on a rugged climb:
Healing Mountain’s steep and rough.
But sometimes I’m too tired to try.
These days, the going’s extra tough.

Each gust of wind just knocks me down,
where prickly self-doubt shrubs are thick.
But for today, somehow I’ve found
compassion as a walking stick.

In the notebook

I'm down like a candle
   burning too long.
My mind feels melty;
   my will's not strong
enough to stand up 
   for what I need.
I'm a puddly hot mess.
   Let me be.
      Let me be.

In the notebook

Little indigo bunting, 
  with your blues deep and bright,

you've journeyed hard and far.

Your song has survived
   rough storms and dark nights.

Carry on, like the hero you are.

I’ve seen indigo buntings only twice and briefly. I think they’re beautiful. They’re migratory and travel large distances every year. Here’s a photo of one from Unsplash.com:

In the notebook

May I be my own witness--

notice more, govern less--

not censoring how I feel,

but holding me through what's real.

In the notebook

Yes, they gave you life,
  but they treated you with scorn
while pretending it was love.
  And you--confused, forlorn--
tried hard to play along
  and dodge their blasts of blame.
Now it's your turn to win--
  by forfeiting their game.

In the notebook

My dear, what happened to you was wrong
   and not your fault in any way.
The shame of it does not belong
   to you. You're free to grow away.

In the notebook

You dash around your loved ones' wounded hearts,
hoping to staunch their spills of blood in time--

but your bandages can't mend their inner harm,
and meanwhile you are burning out your light.

Stop.

No amount of self-abandonment
on your part can heal their woundedness.

The best way you can love them is to tend
yourself and what's on your side of the fence.

In the notebook

What boxes have you 
  broken yourself
     to fit into?

Perhaps a dull gray
  closet, when your
     heart was rainbow-hued?

I broke myself for altars,
  pews, and good-girl plaques.

Now I break the boxes 
  to keep myself intact.

In the notebook

"Overfunctioning"
   was my middle name
(except when I burned out--
   that's when it became
"underfunctioning").
   Now I claim the grace 
of "natural functioning":
   my body sets my pace.

In the notebook

Like a tamed, trained horse,
pleasing other people was
what we were shaped for. 

      spirits broken,
      pain unspoken

At last, we broke free.
Now we're running our own ways
in weird, wild glory.

     Come and join us:
     chase what's joyous.

Can you tell I love horses?

In the notebook

You 
   were never the problem.

Their love 
   was impossibly far

because 
   it was already broken.

You 
   were loveable—

     and still are.

In the notebook

Unless I ask,
  please don't presume
    to tell me what I need.
We're not the same,
  so you do you,
    and I'll look after me.

Worn and teary,
 torn and weary:
need to rest--
 read and nest.

In the notebook

You're a hero blazing trails,

sometimes through thorns and heavy rains.

What feels hard is not your fault.

These are your hero's-journey pains.

  
   Compassion and respect to you,

   my friend--and may your sky show blue.

In the notebook

For this one, I wrote out the basic gist of what I wanted to say, then poeticized it. I liked this process and aim to repeat it!

Slow down, body, we're okay--

no need for fight or flight right now.

To let our wise-mind lead the way,

let's take our time to hear its sound.

In the notebook

Little mind, life is not
  a puzzle to solve,
nor a mountain 
  to finally climb.

It's a sandbox you're in,
  with the sand you are given,
each moment 
  at a time.

In the notebook