Into My House of Feelings (October 2020)
"It's gone too far," I said.
Sharing my house with Numbness for way too long, Complacency had started to build a wall. I didn't bother stopping it. And now, it was so high, I could no longer see out the second story windows.
Loneliness moved in and I had to give up my room to Self-Loathing. The newcomers made a mess and we all knew Complacency and Numbness would never touch a vacuum.
I sat in the mess for days, Self-Loathing reminding me that Failure was knocking on the front door. I did nothing about it, until eventually, Numbness let Failure in.
For days and days, we lived under one roof. The mess got bigger, and as much as I tried to block them out, they got so noisy, I wanted to scream.
Finally, I stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air.
I almost jumped when I met Courage standing by the front door.
We stood there for a few minutes, not doing anything, just being...together.
Then Rage showed up out of nowhere, like Rage tends to do, with Fear not far behind, and I stormed back into the house. "GET OUT!!!" I yelled. And I threw dishes across the room until they smashed against the wall, sending Fear running for cover.
I pushed them all out the back door, "Get out! Get out! GET OUT!" I cried, Desperation joining the crowd as I slammed the door behind them, and locked every door and window in my house. I needed to keep them all at bay. I needed to keep the noise out.
It was quieter now, sitting in my empty house.
But then I couldn't relax because every part of me knew I was still surrounded by the mess. And, as much as I wanted to be, I wasn't alone. I could still see them all standing outside the windows, enclosed by the walls built by Complacency.
I tried to take my mind off of them. I tried to sleep. I tried to work. I'd work most of the day away sometimes, but they were still there in the quiet of the night.
Finally, when I couldn't stand it anymore, I started to clean my house.
I scoured and scrubbed every inch of the mess.
I tossed, and purged, and recycled when I could.
I cleaned and cleaned until everything sparkled.
Then I sat alone in my clean house.
I sat.
And I sat.
Loneliness waved at me through the window.
I realized then that my house wasn't meant for me alone, and maybe a little mess was okay sometimes.
So I opened the front door, and there was Courage, hanging out with Surprise.
"Would you please help me take down this wall?" I asked.
They couldn't wait to get started.
Brick by brick, the wall came down. Until I could see Hope peeking out from
the other side.
Then Resiliency helped, and when we all got tired, Determination finished the job.
When the last brick came down, we found Vulnerability standing there naked—until Hope and Courage took it by the hands and led it into my house.
Joy and Excitement burst through the doors next. Followed by Gratitude and Accomplishment.
We celebrated into the night, the taking down of the wall built by Complacency.
Until two newcomers appeared to join the party—Grief and Longing. I can't remember the last time I let them into my house. I tried to push them back out, but Grief had a way of taking over. There was nothing more I could do. Shame and Regret followed suit.
Pain showed up too, and Agony and Anguish.
I searched outside for Numbness, for some familiarity, but it was long gone.
At times, it all felt like too much, but I managed to stay with them in my house.
I honestly can't remember how or why or when, but things became quiet. We were all still there. In the quiet...together.
Then Joy let out a giggle. And Awkwardness burst into a belly laugh. We all started to laugh then. Delight and Inspiration appeared out of nowhere, dancing in the space between Agony and Anguish.
At that moment, in walked Love, who had been waiting all this time for an invitation. "You know," Love said, "There's plenty of space in this house for all of us."
I didn't believe it at first. I didn't think I was ready to let Love in, let alone all of them. But maybe I was. Or at least I was willing to try.
"Yes," I said, "You're welcome in my house."
At that, I opened the doors. "Come in, all of you. Loneliness, be sure to hold Fear's hand. And, Apprehension, you can take the time you need; there will be dinner waiting for you in the fridge."
They all came flowing in, some I didn't even know the names of yet, into my house of feelings.
Love was right; there was plenty of space, more than I ever imagined.
"You're home," I said, as they began to settle in, "Welcome home."
Sharing my house with Numbness for way too long, Complacency had started to build a wall. I didn't bother stopping it. And now, it was so high, I could no longer see out the second story windows.
Loneliness moved in and I had to give up my room to Self-Loathing. The newcomers made a mess and we all knew Complacency and Numbness would never touch a vacuum.
I sat in the mess for days, Self-Loathing reminding me that Failure was knocking on the front door. I did nothing about it, until eventually, Numbness let Failure in.
For days and days, we lived under one roof. The mess got bigger, and as much as I tried to block them out, they got so noisy, I wanted to scream.
Finally, I stepped outside to get a breath of fresh air.
I almost jumped when I met Courage standing by the front door.
We stood there for a few minutes, not doing anything, just being...together.
Then Rage showed up out of nowhere, like Rage tends to do, with Fear not far behind, and I stormed back into the house. "GET OUT!!!" I yelled. And I threw dishes across the room until they smashed against the wall, sending Fear running for cover.
I pushed them all out the back door, "Get out! Get out! GET OUT!" I cried, Desperation joining the crowd as I slammed the door behind them, and locked every door and window in my house. I needed to keep them all at bay. I needed to keep the noise out.
It was quieter now, sitting in my empty house.
But then I couldn't relax because every part of me knew I was still surrounded by the mess. And, as much as I wanted to be, I wasn't alone. I could still see them all standing outside the windows, enclosed by the walls built by Complacency.
I tried to take my mind off of them. I tried to sleep. I tried to work. I'd work most of the day away sometimes, but they were still there in the quiet of the night.
Finally, when I couldn't stand it anymore, I started to clean my house.
I scoured and scrubbed every inch of the mess.
I tossed, and purged, and recycled when I could.
I cleaned and cleaned until everything sparkled.
Then I sat alone in my clean house.
I sat.
And I sat.
Loneliness waved at me through the window.
I realized then that my house wasn't meant for me alone, and maybe a little mess was okay sometimes.
So I opened the front door, and there was Courage, hanging out with Surprise.
"Would you please help me take down this wall?" I asked.
They couldn't wait to get started.
Brick by brick, the wall came down. Until I could see Hope peeking out from
the other side.
Then Resiliency helped, and when we all got tired, Determination finished the job.
When the last brick came down, we found Vulnerability standing there naked—until Hope and Courage took it by the hands and led it into my house.
Joy and Excitement burst through the doors next. Followed by Gratitude and Accomplishment.
We celebrated into the night, the taking down of the wall built by Complacency.
Until two newcomers appeared to join the party—Grief and Longing. I can't remember the last time I let them into my house. I tried to push them back out, but Grief had a way of taking over. There was nothing more I could do. Shame and Regret followed suit.
Pain showed up too, and Agony and Anguish.
I searched outside for Numbness, for some familiarity, but it was long gone.
At times, it all felt like too much, but I managed to stay with them in my house.
I honestly can't remember how or why or when, but things became quiet. We were all still there. In the quiet...together.
Then Joy let out a giggle. And Awkwardness burst into a belly laugh. We all started to laugh then. Delight and Inspiration appeared out of nowhere, dancing in the space between Agony and Anguish.
At that moment, in walked Love, who had been waiting all this time for an invitation. "You know," Love said, "There's plenty of space in this house for all of us."
I didn't believe it at first. I didn't think I was ready to let Love in, let alone all of them. But maybe I was. Or at least I was willing to try.
"Yes," I said, "You're welcome in my house."
At that, I opened the doors. "Come in, all of you. Loneliness, be sure to hold Fear's hand. And, Apprehension, you can take the time you need; there will be dinner waiting for you in the fridge."
They all came flowing in, some I didn't even know the names of yet, into my house of feelings.
Love was right; there was plenty of space, more than I ever imagined.
"You're home," I said, as they began to settle in, "Welcome home."
A Poem to the Men We Are Desperate For (November 2019)
Men,
This path you have embarked on is a warrior's path.
You who have been swallowed under the aggression of the patriarchy and still have the courage to stand with us.
Fight for us. Love us. Lead us.
Even when we blame you, shame you, castrate you, hate you,
Just because you're a man.
You who are our brothers, husbands, partners and fathers,
Who open doors for us,
Who help us lift our carry-on bags above our heads,
Who stand in line to buy us tampons and stop at the fish market on Friday nights because you know that fresh lobster tail will make us giddy with excitement.
You who cross the road to walk on the other side of the street so we don't have to feel unsafe when we walk alone on the sidewalk.
Who will defend us if you see us being threatened even if you don't know us.
Because you know chivalry isn't dead.
You who were born without a living, breathing role model for depth and yet choose to reconcile for the sins of your fathers.
Who take 100% responsibility for the downfalls of your relationships even when you can't save them.
You who work tirelessly to pay child support when all you want is more time with your babies.
You who cry and rage even though you were told you can't.
Boys don't cry
Suck it up pussy and fight for yourself for your family for your country
But don't fight your woman
Fist meets wall and restraint is in order
Close up Shut up Man up
But don't tell me what to do
Because I'm a radically independent self-sufficient woman.
I'll never know what it's like to be a man.
But I tried.
Put on my masculine armor wore my showhawk like a weapon,
Powered through the day to day to day hustle, get up and go, stiff upper lip shoulders, hips, ass, emotions on lock down too tired to fuck and couldn't understand why you didn't want to claim me.
I punished you, castrated you, told you how to love me and then shamed you when you tried.
And when you tried to lead me, I fought, defended and denied.
Then I laughed at you when you cried.
You who cried because you give an actual fuck.
So why give a fuck now?
You got shit to do.
10 minutes alone on the shitter might be the most peace you get in this world.
Been there. Done that. Drank the kool-aid, made the sobbing call to my mom, now please step aside so I can watch the game.
Dragging yourself to your shitty 9 to 5 striving to provide,
Overburdened by the will to survive,
Trying to be a good father husband brother but no matter what you do, it's never gonna be enough.
Jerk off quick to Pamela Anderson's Playboy Mansion
Baywatch
but don't look now because she's gonna fuck you over.
The last thing you need is another woman telling you to step up.
Well, brace yourself, because I'm another woman telling you to step up.
Because
When I look into your eyes, I see the Divine.
I see God. The entire fucking universe.
I also see your privilege,
And I resent you, hate you for it.
But you know deep down that your privilege is a gift.
And I know it too.
Yeah, deep down, what I really see is your power.
And with great power comes great responsibility.
You see, the truth is...
I need you.
We need you.
We need you to be a stand for depth. For consciousness. For good men.
Because we are starting to spread rumors that good men, conscious men, like you, don't exist anymore.
So we need you.
We need you to lead us.
We need you to free us.
We need you to help us remember that we are love.
Because we're imprisoned behind our own toxic masculine xerox brainwash and you are the ones with the keys.
You.
Yes, you.
You are the ones we are desperate for.
This path you have embarked on is a warrior's path.
You who have been swallowed under the aggression of the patriarchy and still have the courage to stand with us.
Fight for us. Love us. Lead us.
Even when we blame you, shame you, castrate you, hate you,
Just because you're a man.
You who are our brothers, husbands, partners and fathers,
Who open doors for us,
Who help us lift our carry-on bags above our heads,
Who stand in line to buy us tampons and stop at the fish market on Friday nights because you know that fresh lobster tail will make us giddy with excitement.
You who cross the road to walk on the other side of the street so we don't have to feel unsafe when we walk alone on the sidewalk.
Who will defend us if you see us being threatened even if you don't know us.
Because you know chivalry isn't dead.
You who were born without a living, breathing role model for depth and yet choose to reconcile for the sins of your fathers.
Who take 100% responsibility for the downfalls of your relationships even when you can't save them.
You who work tirelessly to pay child support when all you want is more time with your babies.
You who cry and rage even though you were told you can't.
Boys don't cry
Suck it up pussy and fight for yourself for your family for your country
But don't fight your woman
Fist meets wall and restraint is in order
Close up Shut up Man up
But don't tell me what to do
Because I'm a radically independent self-sufficient woman.
I'll never know what it's like to be a man.
But I tried.
Put on my masculine armor wore my showhawk like a weapon,
Powered through the day to day to day hustle, get up and go, stiff upper lip shoulders, hips, ass, emotions on lock down too tired to fuck and couldn't understand why you didn't want to claim me.
I punished you, castrated you, told you how to love me and then shamed you when you tried.
And when you tried to lead me, I fought, defended and denied.
Then I laughed at you when you cried.
You who cried because you give an actual fuck.
So why give a fuck now?
You got shit to do.
10 minutes alone on the shitter might be the most peace you get in this world.
Been there. Done that. Drank the kool-aid, made the sobbing call to my mom, now please step aside so I can watch the game.
Dragging yourself to your shitty 9 to 5 striving to provide,
Overburdened by the will to survive,
Trying to be a good father husband brother but no matter what you do, it's never gonna be enough.
Jerk off quick to Pamela Anderson's Playboy Mansion
Baywatch
but don't look now because she's gonna fuck you over.
The last thing you need is another woman telling you to step up.
Well, brace yourself, because I'm another woman telling you to step up.
Because
When I look into your eyes, I see the Divine.
I see God. The entire fucking universe.
I also see your privilege,
And I resent you, hate you for it.
But you know deep down that your privilege is a gift.
And I know it too.
Yeah, deep down, what I really see is your power.
And with great power comes great responsibility.
You see, the truth is...
I need you.
We need you.
We need you to be a stand for depth. For consciousness. For good men.
Because we are starting to spread rumors that good men, conscious men, like you, don't exist anymore.
So we need you.
We need you to lead us.
We need you to free us.
We need you to help us remember that we are love.
Because we're imprisoned behind our own toxic masculine xerox brainwash and you are the ones with the keys.
You.
Yes, you.
You are the ones we are desperate for.
Me. Fucking. Too. (October 2018)
Women. I'll begin here.
Where it all began.
Me too.
Me fucking too.
I ate the cum stained piss stained soul abolishing shit stained pill that was fed to me at birth.
The pill I didn't ask for sign up for wish for long for but the one that came with the welcome to this patriotic I mean patriarcic masogonistic post-feminist fake-it-til-you-make it strive to be the best you can be because that's really the only way you'll make it and you won't make it because you're a bad girl bad bad girl never be a good girl I mean woman so good luck with that and now I'm gonna fuck you because you're a woman world.
The blame myself because it was so fucking confusing and no one ever taught me how to say no really and I didn't ask for that but I must've asked for it because then it wouldn't have happened right so shame on me and my broken tainted pussy and now my body tremors with the after shocks of the trauma that shall never be named world.
Yeah. I swallowed that pill.
And I'm fucking pissed about that. Just like you.
Me fucking too.
And according to you and everyone else I have every right to be pissed. Sweet. That's cool.
But you know what I don't have a right to? I don't have a right to blame and shame and maim and fuck over men that were also fed a pill they didn't sign-up for.
The your species raped and fucked and raped and fucked and killed and raped and fucked and fucked and fucked women over and over and over and over again thanks for being born you fucking asshole pill.
No. I don't get to blame them for that. Just like how they don't get to blame me for not owning my no.
Because that’s not our faults.
That’s not our fucking faults.
No. We're all still innocent little pissing shitting spitting up give me the boobies milk drunk babies who have no fucking clue how to navigate this fucked up world and we're crying and screaming "Just put my face in mommy's boobies! PLEASE! PUT MY FACE IN MOMMY'S BOOBIES. PLEASE BOOBIES. GIVE ME THE BOOBIES. I NEED THE BOOBIES. I NEED THE BOOBIES."
All of us.
And what's left in its wake is close-hearted men are assholes I wish they would express their feelings but not anger or sadness or fear or or never mind I'm not doing their emotional labor because they're men and I don't owe them anything except that I'll rage at them and judge them and then get pissed when they won't hear it and why won't they listen to me men are fucking emotionless assholes who don't listen men are assholes.
OR I want them to lead me but not like that or like that or like that fuck it I'll just take care of myself and i can and I will because I can and oh yeah they're assholes because they're men.
You know what, though?
Me too.
Me fucking too.
I do that too.
You know what else?
We don't have to.
We don't have to.
We don't have to blame them shame them lock up our bleeding hearts and throw away the keys.
We don't have to.
We can be the change and I know why the fuck do we have to be the change when it's the men who need to change god fucking dammit why can't they do something useful for once fuck this.
I know.
But we need to.
Because.
Where are all of the good men?
The good men are dying. Dying.
Because we are killing them. Murdering them. Beating them down to a pulp until there is nothing left.
The good men are an endangered species threatened with extinction.
I'm not fucking around here.
I know you're hurt. I know you're pissed. I know. Me too.
But we have to do something.
We have to love.
I don't mean flowery, bedazzled pussy put on my sweet face love.
I mean from our bleeding hearts with everything splayed out on the fucking alter of love nothing else to lose love.
From the truth.
From our truth.
{{From our you fucked us for centuries and we are fucking pissed and we need you to lead us out of this please we need you help us god fucking dammit help us to remember that we are love truth.}}
They are dying for it.
They are dying for our truth.
They are dying.
They are dying.
They are dying.
We have to love. Please. I beg you. From my bleeding heart. I beg you.
We have to love.
We have to love.
We have to love.
And loving begins with our truth.
View Me. Fucking. Too. Spoken Word Dance Film by Awake Storytelling
Where it all began.
Me too.
Me fucking too.
I ate the cum stained piss stained soul abolishing shit stained pill that was fed to me at birth.
The pill I didn't ask for sign up for wish for long for but the one that came with the welcome to this patriotic I mean patriarcic masogonistic post-feminist fake-it-til-you-make it strive to be the best you can be because that's really the only way you'll make it and you won't make it because you're a bad girl bad bad girl never be a good girl I mean woman so good luck with that and now I'm gonna fuck you because you're a woman world.
The blame myself because it was so fucking confusing and no one ever taught me how to say no really and I didn't ask for that but I must've asked for it because then it wouldn't have happened right so shame on me and my broken tainted pussy and now my body tremors with the after shocks of the trauma that shall never be named world.
Yeah. I swallowed that pill.
And I'm fucking pissed about that. Just like you.
Me fucking too.
And according to you and everyone else I have every right to be pissed. Sweet. That's cool.
But you know what I don't have a right to? I don't have a right to blame and shame and maim and fuck over men that were also fed a pill they didn't sign-up for.
The your species raped and fucked and raped and fucked and killed and raped and fucked and fucked and fucked women over and over and over and over again thanks for being born you fucking asshole pill.
No. I don't get to blame them for that. Just like how they don't get to blame me for not owning my no.
Because that’s not our faults.
That’s not our fucking faults.
No. We're all still innocent little pissing shitting spitting up give me the boobies milk drunk babies who have no fucking clue how to navigate this fucked up world and we're crying and screaming "Just put my face in mommy's boobies! PLEASE! PUT MY FACE IN MOMMY'S BOOBIES. PLEASE BOOBIES. GIVE ME THE BOOBIES. I NEED THE BOOBIES. I NEED THE BOOBIES."
All of us.
And what's left in its wake is close-hearted men are assholes I wish they would express their feelings but not anger or sadness or fear or or never mind I'm not doing their emotional labor because they're men and I don't owe them anything except that I'll rage at them and judge them and then get pissed when they won't hear it and why won't they listen to me men are fucking emotionless assholes who don't listen men are assholes.
OR I want them to lead me but not like that or like that or like that fuck it I'll just take care of myself and i can and I will because I can and oh yeah they're assholes because they're men.
You know what, though?
Me too.
Me fucking too.
I do that too.
You know what else?
We don't have to.
We don't have to.
We don't have to blame them shame them lock up our bleeding hearts and throw away the keys.
We don't have to.
We can be the change and I know why the fuck do we have to be the change when it's the men who need to change god fucking dammit why can't they do something useful for once fuck this.
I know.
But we need to.
Because.
Where are all of the good men?
The good men are dying. Dying.
Because we are killing them. Murdering them. Beating them down to a pulp until there is nothing left.
The good men are an endangered species threatened with extinction.
I'm not fucking around here.
I know you're hurt. I know you're pissed. I know. Me too.
But we have to do something.
We have to love.
I don't mean flowery, bedazzled pussy put on my sweet face love.
I mean from our bleeding hearts with everything splayed out on the fucking alter of love nothing else to lose love.
From the truth.
From our truth.
{{From our you fucked us for centuries and we are fucking pissed and we need you to lead us out of this please we need you help us god fucking dammit help us to remember that we are love truth.}}
They are dying for it.
They are dying for our truth.
They are dying.
They are dying.
They are dying.
We have to love. Please. I beg you. From my bleeding heart. I beg you.
We have to love.
We have to love.
We have to love.
And loving begins with our truth.
View Me. Fucking. Too. Spoken Word Dance Film by Awake Storytelling