Tag: thoughts

  • Searching for Identity

    As time passes, the veil falls away

    what I wanted to be and what was are two different rooms.

    I built a perfect scene out of hope and paper,

    a stage lit for someone who never walked on.

    In the backdrop I find no name for me,

    no introduction, no ceremony  only footsteps

    measured in stones that promised a path and stole my footing.

    There were flowers, yes, soft and bright at first;

    Being brave to bring the inside out.

    I stepped through them and watched them wilt beneath my soles.

    Memory blurs where longing crowded the light;

    the ache was haute couture, tailor-made illusion.

    Now the seams show. Now the truth is simple and blunt:

    I am not the audience, I am not the prize.

    I am the one who unties the curtain and walks out into my own.

  • Tell Me You Have ADHD

    Tell me you have ADHD

    without saying a word.

    It looks like three screens glowing at once

    phone, computer, Ipad

    all alive, all demanding

    all impossible to ignore.

    Notebooks Scattered

    pens uncapped

    pages scribbled with half born thoughts

    each one urgent

    each one waiting

    to be finished “later”

    But when is later

    What exactly have you begun

    and where does it end

    Your brain whispers this is fine

    this is how we work

    as chaos hums like background music

    Therapist nods, listens

    lets the words spill out

    and still you wonder

    if they will ever hand you

    the answer your mind

    has been chasing in circles

    Slowly, surely

    you try to stitch focus back together.

    But then comes the question

    if I tame this storm

    if I straighten the wires

    do I lose the spark that makes me, me

    So you sit, suspended

    between doing and dreaming

    between chaos and order

    asking the question

    that never lets go

    How am I supposed to be?

  • Routine

    Alarm goes off. 

    Open Eyes.

    Stretch.

    Ache.

    Wanting to stay,

    But must go.

    Clothes waiting

    Maybe

    If not 

    Trying not wear the same thing twice

    One leg

    Then the other

    Zipper

    Shoes

    Our own made armor 

    On our way 

    Start the mundane

    Punch in 

    Steps all seems the same 

    Break 

    Breathe

    Take a bite

    Clock back in

    Shift finally over 

    Head home 

    Try to decompress 

    Yet chaos slips in 

    to mess with the straight lines

    Finally sleep 

    Only to repeat it all again

    So when they ask

    “How’s Life?” 

    What’s your answer? 

  • Deep Breathe In and Exhale

    It’s been a whirlwind of a year, but maybe that’s the best way to begin because life rarely slows down long enough for us to catch our breath.

    For as long as I can remember, I’ve been everything to everyone. A caretaker, a listener, a supporter, a provider of strength. And while I’ve carried those roles with love, I often forgot the one person who needed me most, myself.

    This space, this blog, is my way of taking myself back.

    Of saying out loud that I am more than what others need from me. I am a whole being in the middle of becoming, learning how to live in the quiet lines between giving and receiving, between surviving and actually living.

    Here I’ll share my reflections, my poetry, my struggles, and the messy truths of finding myself again.

    I know I’m not alone in this there are others walking this same path, whispering the same reminder: that we deserve to be here for ourselves, too.

    So welcome to Lines Between Living. It’s not a perfect path, but it’s a real one. And I hope that somewhere in my words, you find pieces of your own story.